Work Text:
love is a battlefield
Jake can feel his heartbeat turn erratic as he assesses the situation unfolding before him, resting his weight against the wall behind in an attempt to tamper down his excitement. At least, he thinks its excitement - it could very well be nerves. Or, the result of all four cups of coffee he’d had today finally catching up on him. Possibly a sugar high from that packet of gummy worms.
Whatever, it was hard to tell.
All he knew for sure was that his heart was beginning to race at a mile a minute, and it was starting to get very difficult to concentrate on anything apart from what waited for him on the other side of the door to his left.
An hour ago, this very scenario would have been completely outside his imagination - and yet, here he was. He supposes, as his fingers flex their grip around the firearm in his hand, that this was just the nature of the world he lives in.
His breath hitches in his chest slightly, and Jake squeezes his eyes closed. Employing a distraction technique that he learned from one of the best a long time ago, he begins to focus on what he knows.
One. The weapon in his hand is familiar, and just light enough to mean that he can move quickly without feeling encumbered.
Two. Said weapon is well-stocked with ammunition, with an additional clip attached to the side for a hopefully seamless refill.
Three. He’s been listening to the activity on the other side of this wall, and he’s absolutely certain he has the element of surprise on his hands.
And then, his phone rings, the shrillness of his ringtone cutting through the silence like a knife.
Damn it. “Boyle!”
“Jakey? Why are you whispering?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have time to explain. I’ve come home to a Nerf gun in a box at my front door, and a note.”
“A note? A gun? Wait, is Amy okay?”
“Nerf gun. And yeah. She’s fine.” Jake looks down at the note he’d found attached to a cardboard box outside their apartment five minutes ago, recognising the perfectly spaced curls of his wife’s cursive handwriting. Babe written on the outside, and on the inside: ‘Here is your weapon. I have one too. Loser has to cook dinner. Good luck. xo’. Smiling, he folds the note with his palm and tucks it into his pocket. “She’s amazing, actually.”
“I’m not sure I understand. Do you need backup?”
Hearing a bump from inside their apartment, Jake pushes his shoulder away from the stuccoed hallway wall, standing to attention. “I’ll explain later but I’ve gotta go. Everything’s fine. No backup. Talktomorrowloveyoubye.” There’s a muffled version of his name coming through the phone speaker, but Jake’s thumb is already hitting the red disconnect button. He can call Boyle back, once the combat was over. Right now, he had a bigger issue at hand.
His feet flex against the floorboards, carefully avoiding that one panel that always manages to squeak, and he presses his left hand to his hip as he starts to think. Time is running out - he’d normally be home by now, and he knows that Amy will be watching the clock. The way he sees things, he has two options.
- Burst through the door, completely dominate this Nerf war, and forever flaunt the victory in Amy’s face.
- Pros: Winning, obviously.
- Cons: Amy cooks dinner. He loves her, lord knows he loves her, but cooking has never been her forté. Winning tastes amazing, but he’s not confident that it will once it’s been burnt to a crisp.
- Burst through the door, dominate round one, throw the rest and declare defeat.
- Pros: Cooking dinner - and not so much for the whole ‘cooking’ thing, but a lack of threat for future food poisoning is always going to be a definite plus. He’s pretty sure there’s still some Dino Bites in the freezer; he could chop them up, mix it with the leftover fried rice from last night’s takeout, and call it Rice à la Raptor.
- Cons: Amy wins, and forever flaunts her victory in his face.
The two sides of his mind are just beginning to launch into a highly unstructured debate when Jake hears the quick double rap of Amy’s knuckles against the other side of the door.
“I can hear you out there, detective. No sense in hiding. It’s time to come accept your fate.”
Damnit. Scrambling, Jake strengthens his grip around the bright orange gun, jutting his chin towards the door that separates them before speaking. “I call unfair advantage. You’ve had all this time for recon, and there’s no way I can be sure that you’re not going to take me down the minute I walk through the door.”
Amy scoffs, the rolling of her eyes almost audible. “Recon? You know our apartment just as well as I do.”
“Our apartment, filled with books and love and Die Hard? Our precious shelter from the world outside? Yes. The potential combat zone that waits behind this door? Completely new.”
There’s a moment of silence that stretches through the wall between them, and he just knows that she’s got her mouth twisted to the side in careful thought.
“Fair call.” He hears Amy clear her throat, and cannot contain the grin that takes over his face as she begins using her best authoritative voice. Truly, of all the personas his wife can take on, Boss Amy is the best. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to give you three minutes, starting from now, to get yourself inside the war zone. I want a fair win, so I’m not going to be at the door. Three minutes, and then it’s game on, Peralta. Do you understand?”
Jake grins, and before he can stop himself his voice takes on a cocky tone. “Three? I could do it in one.”
“Fine. One minute it is.”
Choking on the feeling of his heart leaping into his throat, Jake presses his left hand against the door, willing itself to touch the woman on the other side. “No, wait! Three minutes is perfect, title of my sex tape!” There’s total silence from inside their apartment, and as Jake’s wedding ring begins to dig into his skin from pushing harder against the wood, it feels like some kind of psychological chastising. “… Babe?”
There’s a slight squeak from the door as Amy shifts away from the frame, her voice fading as she moves further away with a chuckle. “You’d better move quickly tough guy, you’ve only got thirty-seven seconds left.”
He’s turning the doorknob a second later, wedging the front of his piece into the gap and assessing the scene before opening wider and glancing around the room. As promised, Amy was not in front of him; but the scent of her perfume lingers in the air as he pushes their door closed, waiting for the click of the lock before scampering across the floor until the base of their couch covers most of his position.
Out of instinct Jake turns his head in both directions, assessing the scene in front of him to prepare for any possible scenario. To his right, he notices that the white ceramic lamp that has provided illumination for the both of them night after night has been relegated to the floor. A framed photo of them on their honeymoon, that once sat beside said lamp, is now wrapped in a blanket and wedged between it and the base of their lounge chair. To his left, he sees the alcohol has been moved away from the top of the liquor cabinet, all items securely tucked away for safe keeping.
Before him, Jake realises that even the vase that sat on their dining table - the one that just this morning had been proudly displaying the flowers he bought Amy two days ago - has been moved to a more sheltered location. The table itself has been shifted a few inches to the right, with the dining chairs facing oddly outwards, and his wife’s collection of ceramics have all been pushed to the back of their display shelves.
Everything breakable, he realises, has been either secured in place or removed from harm’s way, and Amy’s preparedness was both impressive and incredibly arousing. Clearly, Sergeant Santiago has spent her afternoon preparing for contest.
God, this is hot.
The countdown that has been playing in the back of his mind runs down to the final numbers - but still Jake cannot be certain that his beloved wife hasn’t decided to bestow him the courtesy of her originally offered three minutes - and his sense of looming threat only heightens with every passing second. Resting his weight on his right heel, Jake drops his left shoulder and hikes up his weapon, pointing it in the direction of the library. If there’s any room that Amy would consider an ideal place for shelter, it’s there.
Once he’s sure that one minute has definitely passed, he makes a quick judgement call to raise himself slightly from his kneeling position. Time to show off those cat-like reflexes, Peralta.
His head has only just risen above the height of the back of their couch when he hears a soft intake of breath to his right. Swinging his weapon in the direction of the sound, Jake ducks immediately as a bright blue and orange tipped foam bullet whizzes past his head.
Whoa. That was close.
“Nice try, babe.” He tries to keep his tone cool, but realistically knows that Amy can see right through the facade, and so Jake pauses to take a deep breath. “Great shot, though.” Credit where credit’s due.
“Damn right it was. Your move, babe.”
Jake can feel his shoulders growing tighter as he lengthens his spine slowly, lifting his head just above couch height - this time turning his attention to the direction of the earlier attack - and that’s when he sees it. Amy, crouched down in the corner of their kitchen, using the lower cabinets for cover as her back faces the sink. A conveniently placed fern sitting along the open bench conceals her sight line as she holds her weapon at the ready, the edges of her eyes crinkling into a smile pointed in Jake’s direction as he takes it all in. It’s a smart position, and one that he himself had been intending to get to.
He takes in a calming breath, finally recognising the race of his heart to be related more to the joy that Amy constantly brings to his life, than any kind of nerves that a battle like this could have brought on. “In case I forget to tell you this later, Ames - this is totally awesome, and I love you.”
He hears his wife giggle softly from her position, and honestly it’s always going to be one of his most favourite sounds - right up there with how soft her voice gets every time she says I love you - but now more than ever, it feels like a slice of heaven.
This right here is what they needed, after six or more months of trying just about everything under the sun to conceive. Things had seemed so simple at first: clinging to the notion that it was something that would happen easily enough once they started trying, and sure - they might encounter some speed bumps along the way, but nothing that they couldn’t handle.
And then over time, it had become more apparent that the tiny molehills were turning out to be mountains. The negatives began to pile up, spontaneity gave way to routine, and he could feel them beginning to slowly glaze over the very things that made them such an incredible match. It had felt like the world was against them, as everyone around them seemed to procreate at the drop of hat, and the claws of defeat were definitely beginning to dig in.
The thing that the universe seemed to forget, though, was that mountains were the very thing that both he and Amy have moved in the past in order to stay together.
(Obviously not in the literal sense. That would be awesome insane. He’s just been watching more of those period dramas that Amy loves lately, and has really become a fan of figurative speech.)
Now, it felt like they had come out on the other side - not in the pregnant sense, because that was still a work in progress - but more relaxed about their options for the future. Life, after all, is unpredictable, and not everything is in their control.
But, as a beautiful woman once told him: with the right person, you can handle anything.
“I love you too, Jake. I am going to take you down, but I love you all the same.”
He grins at Amy’s response. She really is the best person he knows.
“Game on, Santiago.”
Lowering back towards the base of the couch, Jake narrows his eyes as his plans for counterattack begin to form. If this apartment had vents in the ceiling, he could finally live out his ultimate Die Hard fantasy, but for some stupid reason it doesn’t, and so he’s just going to have to get creative. And as far as he’s concerned, nothing works better than the art of distraction.
Propping his pistol against the top of the seated cushions, he props up his body on his right elbow and stretches his left foot out towards one of the throw pillows that managed to remain in place during Amy’s battlefield setup. Nudging with his sneaker against the seam, he rotates his ankle in a lifting motion until the pillow falls towards him, snatching up with his free hand before it can hit the ground.
Listening carefully, Jake hears Amy’s back shuffle against the counters, smirking when he recognises the groan of the cupboard towards the left corner. He recognises the sound - he’s made it before, after he rested his lower legs against it last time he propped Amy up onto the counter for an impromptu makeout session - and knows that it means that his darling wife has shifted positions and no longer has eyes on him.
Moving into a crouch, Jake grips the base of the Nerf gun in his right hand, using his tip of his fingers to grip the edge of the decorative pillow that was closest to him. With his left, he grabs the other newly acquired cushion, and even though his knees are definitely protesting, he uses his calf muscles to slowly raise himself into a nearly standing position. Pausing, Jake waits for total silence before throwing both pillows in opposite directions: one towards their hallway, the other a weak chuck towards their dining table - both thankfully landing with enough noise to make Amy think that he’s definitely about to ambush - but from where?!
He sees his chance as soon as she stands, squaring his shoulders and pointing his toy towards the kitchen, squeezing the bright green trigger in rapid succession but he’s too late. Amy has already begun to move, and he swears she’s like lightning.
Switching the weapon to her right, Amy plants her left hand onto the counter with a heavy slap - resting all of her weight onto her arm as she leaps up off the floor like a goddamn superhero, twisting her torso perfectly as her body clears the bench like it’s the most natural thing in the word. Three blue nerf bullets hit the cabinets behind her, falling neglected to the floor to bask in their utter failure.
Jake, on the other hand, stands in the middle of the living room with his mouth open in shock, plastic pistol long forgotten and hanging limply by his side.
With her feet landing squarely onto the hardwood floor, Amy shifts her weapon back to her dominant hand, flicking her ponytail away as she reverts to her attack stance. She grins when she takes in Jake’s response to her move, knowing that she’d absolutely nailed her transition from kitchen to dining room, then bites her lip in barely contained glee. “Your butt is mine, Peralta.”
Instinctively, Jake knows that he should mirror her position - now that his target was in complete sight, his chances of victory have increased dramatically. But right now, he needs to pay homage to what he just witnessed. “Ames. That was amazing.”
Amy shrugs, trying her best to seem nonchalant before busting out the nerdy grin that Jake loves so much. “I’ve kinda always wanted to do that.”
“You looked like a gymnast. Or a … gazelle. A sexy gazelle.”
“Gazelles can run at upwards of 60 miles per hour, Jake. They’re ALL sexy.”
He nods. “Right you are, babe.” Flexing his right shoulder, he lifts his piece into position as he reassesses his plan of attack … and that’s when he takes in the rest of his wife’s outfit. And in all honesty, a younger version of Jake - largely, the 15 year old sophomore that has just discovered the digitally glorious character known as Lara Croft and still exists in a dusty corner of his mind - lets out a tiny squeal of excitement.
Lowering his weapon, Jake stares openly. “I know that by now this probably could go without saying because it’s pretty much the case every day but … I just have to tell you that you are ridiculously hot, Ames.”
It would be a relatively fair call to say that there’s a very good chance that Amy is:
A) completely unaware of the existence of a computer game character like Lara Croft; and,
B) also unaware that the majority of her outfit today has made her look almost exactly like her double. But Jake is not one to make complaints about such happy coincidences.
Opting for her well-fitted yoga pants instead of short shorts, and a smaller, brighter yellow & blue Nerf gun strapped to the outside of her thigh with a hair tie for safe keeping, she looked prepped and ready for war. Add in her grey tank top, combat-efficient pony tail and the don’t mess with me look in her eyes, and Amy Santiago was something out of every teenage boy’s fantasy.
Made all the more sexier by the fact that the woman before him is the love of his life, who has more than likely dressed this way purely for Optimum Takedown Preparation.
As her ready-and-willing victim, Jake couldn’t be happier.
Blushing, Amy glances down at her outfit, and Jake seizes the opportunity by firing two more foam bullets in her direction, groaning in frustration when she dodges them with smooth precision.
“Quit trying to distract me!” she cries out, snatching the spare weapon strapped to her leg with her right hand, and Jake dives back down to the floor, crawling on his belly until he’s reached the edge of the sofa. She fires a quick round from one gun as he peers around the corner, tsking when she misses; and as Jake pulls himself up from the floor - fully prepared to scale the couch and take advantage of their difference in height - he realises that Amy has already jumped onto the dining chair, and is grinning victoriously at him in his now completely prone position.
(So that’s why the dining chairs had been facing outwards.)
Pointing both Nerfs directly at him and locking her frame into place, Amy raises her eyebrows in a silent dare, and Jake drops his gun to the floor. He takes a heavy swallow, raising both of his hands towards the ceiling in surrender, and tries his very best to stop his blood from rushing to other places as his wife stands above him in Total Domination.
Cocking her head to the side, Amy studies his pose before speaking. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
Don’t say sexy timez. Don’t say sexy timez.
Jake clears his throat. “Sexy times?”
Her smile flicks upwards quickly, and she takes a steady breath. “You’ve got to declare defeat first, babe.”
Lowering his hands, Jake takes slow and careful steps towards his wife, the smile on his face growing wider with every closed inch between them. The gleam in her eye spurs him forward, the combination of victory and glee and total arousal making his heartbeat stutter all over again. “Amy Santiago. The first of her name, ruler of officers, the keeper of binders and sole owner of my heart. I stand before you in total surrender.”
Amy’s defences have completely fallen by the time Jake stands before her, the plastic guns rattling their protest loudly against the floorboards as they slip forgotten from her hands. His fingers land on her hips, thumbs stroking the skin underneath her tank gently as she stands above him, and with a contented smile Amy’s arms come to rest on either side of his neck. Tugging gently, Jake pulls Amy towards him, and as her legs wrap around his waist he presses his forehead against hers so that he can whisper “You win, Ames.” Truth is, she won a long time ago.
Grinning brightly, Amy leans in for a celebratory kiss. “Don’t think this is going to get you out of cooking dinner, husband.”
Laughing, Jake tightens his grip before carrying Amy out of the living room. “I’m a man of my honour, babe. Rice à la Raptor will come in due course. Just gonna make sure you’ve worked up an appetite first.”
“Rice à la what? … Oh, the Dino bites!”
A few weeks later, Jake’s playing (and yes okay, losing) Mario Party when Amy stands before him with the brightest smile he’s ever seen, holding a positive pregnancy test, and the world as they know it will never be the same ever again. And sure, maybe Nerf Gun Battles hadn’t been exactly what their doctor was thinking of when she told them to ‘relax, and have fun for a little while!’, but hey - the method worked.
And in another year’s time, as Jake is rocking his son to sleep, he quietly begins planning for the future - for Round Two of the Peralta-Santiago Nerf War, where he and Mac can join forces to take down Amy/Mommy.
(Spoiler alert: Amy still wins.)