Combined, Rosa and Gina were masters of the guilt trip, and so Amy found herself at their mercy, a vodka cranberry shoved into her hands as she was manhandled into one of the booths at Shaws'. Rosa eyed her over her beer, while Gina seemed disinterested, swirling her fruity concoction. Amy was nonplussed; why insist on dragging her out if they weren't going to say anything?

About an hour into the night, her burner cell alerted her to a text. She pulled it out to see Jake was checking in for the night. She appreciated the constant contact, it kept her certain that he was safe and not compromised.

From Contact 1:
Ligar?
(Hook up?)

Because of that spectacular blow up, their undercover identities logically couldn't keep seeing each other. Jake had suggested she get a new burner phone and they devise a new system, but Amy had a solution. She'd drawn up an extensive list of come ons in Spanish, each one referring to whether he was a) compromised or in danger, b) unable to meet at their usual place and time under the bridge that week, or c) just checking in so she knew things were fine. Then she had fun coming up with responses, none of which meant anything in particular, but were fun to offend him with.

From Spanish Hottie:
Gilún
(Dumbass)

Narratively, Jake was a guy who couldn't give up and kept pestering her for sex no matter how many times she insulted him. It worked perfectly.

Satisfied that things were okay, Amy tucked her burner phone back in her pocket and raised her head. She blinked when she saw she was under the scrutiny of both Rosa and Gina.

"What?" Amy asked.

Gina grimaced out an insincere smile. "Hey Amy, come to the bathroom with me." She demanded, setting her drink down and standing up.

"But I don't have to go." Amy protested.

"Yeah, you do." Rosa said, just a few degrees shy of glaring. "Girl code. Go to the damn bathroom." Gina was manhandling her out of the booth as she mumbled out an okay.

The ladies room door closed behind them and Amy tugged her arm out of Gina's vice-like grip. She prepared to loiter by the sink and check her hair, but Gina wasn't going to the stalls. She was just staring at Amy like she knew some deep dark secret.

Amy shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, don't you have to, you know..."

"You know what's up with Jake, don't you?" Gina declared, shocking Amy silent. Anxiety rippled up her spine.

"How... What makes you think that?" She replied, voice flat and incriminating. Gina crossed her arms.

"Well, you've suddenly got two phones, your regular smart phone and an old bulky flip. Whenever you get a text from the flip phone you get this little smile at the corners of your mouth." Amy automatically raised her hand to cover the smile that was no longer there. "You're a lot slower with your paperwork," Gina continued, "And Rosa says you've been accepting help on your cases more and more from your secondaries. Plus, whenever Boyle gets all sad and brings everyone down by mentioning Jake and how much he misses him, you rush out of the room."

"That is all untrue and I find this whole interrogation insulting." Amy said loudly as she proceeded to turn and try to rush out of the room. As she opened the door, she smacked straight into the leather-clad back of Rosa. The detective looked at Amy over her shoulder with a real honest glare.

"Girl. Code." She grit out, and Amy quickly shut the door.

"Answer the question, Prissy Prissy Princess." Gina added tauntingly.

"Fine! Yes, I am." Amy didn't want to elaborate, to actually say 'I'm in contact with Jake Peralta, the NYPD detective who was supposed to have quit and cut all ties to his precinct to begin a life of crime.'

"You tell me how he is right now," said Gina with a fearsome scowl, "Or so help me the brass will be asking why all your paperwork is covered in drawings of dicks."

"Jake is fine." Amy told her quickly. "He's… managing. You know, not being a cop."

Gina eyed her for a moment before sighing. "He's undercover, isn't he? That idiot."

"What, no…" Amy sputtered, knowing she sounded unconvincing. "Why on earth…"

"Please," Gina said, with a roll of her eyes, "The Jake I knew in middle school only called cops 'pigs' or 'bacon' when he got roped into playing robber in Cops and Robbers." Amy's shoulders slumped. That did sound like him. "You're part of this though," Gina went on, "Why aren't you helping him come home?"

Amy huffed, sheepish under the accusation and trying not to show it. "Clark won't talk extraction with me yet. He says we don't have enough."

"Well he's a no-dick jerkwad who doesn't care about our Jakey." Gina says, her nasally voice rough with anger. "You've gotta know what the Feds are aiming for, right? If they had their way, Jake would spend years working up to second in command, with his sticky little fingers in every single pie, just to bring down the king rat and send the rest of the mice scuttling away."

Amy couldn't resist quipping, "Sorry, is this analogy about pastries or rodents?"

"I'm Beyonce level serious right now." Gina replied, her gaze sharp and unwavering. "For kicks, I like to go through old invoices, and the joint FBI operations are always in it for the long haul. Usually it's fun to picture myself lounging in a glitzy Trump hotel room paid for with NYPD funds, but it's not a vacation if it's for a whole year." She pinned Amy with a shrewd look. "Jake isn't at Trump tower, is he?"

Amy's mind flashed to the address the FBI provided for him in Bed-Sty, the apartment which she'd never visited but nonetheless knew the layout of like the back of her hand.

"No, not exactly the Ritz." She admitted, watching Gina's expression turn briefly smug.

"You gotta get my homeboy outta there and back where he belongs."

"Believe me," Amy replied, eyes shining, "There's nothing I want more."

"I never got why they called this place DUMBO." Jake remarked as they leaned casually against the graffitied brick wall. Amy sipped her coffee, smirking a little around the to-go cup rim. "I always thought it meant something about the elephant, you know, from the Disney movie?"

She snorted into drink. "Why would you even have heard of this place? Was your playground right under the Manhattan bridge?"

"Brooklyn bridge, actually." He said with a smirk. Amy laughed in earnest and Jake was clearly gratified.

"How're you holding up?" She asked after a moment, diving into the serious matter at hand. "Unusual paranoia? Any nightmares?" Amy knew the symptoms to look for. She'd been studying the effects of undercover work for the last few months, trying to prepare for when the strain might show. At those signs she would have no choice but to recommend ending the mission. So far Jake was surprisingly resilient.

"Just the recurring nightmare of showing up to my bar mitzvah naked, one about this evil marshmallow that tried to suffocate me but it turned out it was only my pillow, and the one where everyone I know is dead." Jake delivered off-hand. She glared at him and he relented, holding up his hands. "Kidding! Mostly. Okay, I made up the thing about my pillow."

"Ha ha." She deadpanned.

"Right, right, sorry," He muttered, holding up his hands placatingly, "No more jokes, all business, gotcha." Jake raised his head, and there was a lightness in his expression that took her by surprise. It took Amy a second to realize that was optimism. "I've got some huge news." He said, drawing out the word in his excitement.

"Fill me in." She demanded, his mood infectious and making her eager.

"You know how Leo wanted that intel on the Nine-Nine?" He waited for Amy to nod. "It turns out he's really into the locations where the NYPD stores the drugs recovered from busts. The Iannucci's are planning a reverse-bust. They're gonna hit one of the Nine-Nine's 'storage warehouses'," Jake held up air quotes, "And steal back the drugs. He's banking on the NYPD not responding immediately out of embarrassment. Sounds like he's familiar with a certain Deputy Commissioner Pedalsky, right? That would be just like him."

"But he's definitely going to hit one of the," Amy mimicked his air quotes, "'storage warehouses' that I gave you?"

"Yup." Jake popped the p happily. "Hope the FBI's art department went all out because that stage is gonna be our featured set."

The reality of what he was hoping for dawned on her, and Amy's smile fell.

"Jake, the FBI doesn't want to shut this down yet. I've been talking to them about it, but they keep refusing until we have enough concrete evidence that will hold up in court." She could see him about to argue, and she stopped him with a raised hand. "They're not gonna go for this, no matter what I say."

Jake blew out his breath. "My gut's telling me we have to move now." He told her, and he couldn't know that that one statement was almost enough to convince her. If there was one trait that she admired in him above herself, it was that Jake had strong intuition and was confident enough to stick with his hunches. Amy's face must not've revealed her weakening resolve, because he continued forcefully, "They're gonna ferry those drugs out of state the very next day. This raid is when we'll have nearly the entire crew in one spot, redhanded, and we can probably turn enough of them to bring down the whole organization."

"That's a lot to hang on a probably, Jake." She insisted, putting in the effort of refuting him.

"Come on, I know these guys, and we're not gonna have this opportunity again. They're gonna go dark and lie low and then it'll be another couple of months that we're waiting for something good." His gaze bore into hers with impassioned determination. "I really, really don't wanna be here until then."

Her chest tightened at his implication. She knew the mission was wearing on him, it was wearing on them both. There was the lingering agreement that they skirted around, that once they were both back at the Nine-Nine, they would explore the possibility of a romantic relationship.

"Let me talk to the Captain," Amy conceded, "I'll see what I can do."

"Hurry," He said, taking a step closer, his expression revealing the slightest hint of worry, "This is going to go down before Friday." She could've said something, something like 'understood' or 'roger that'. She could've left it like that, said goodbye after his grim reminder. She could've asked futilely that he stall the Iannuccis, sparking an argument and leaving them on familiar footing.

But Jake was standing close, and the streetlight threw his face into sharp relief, and the chill wind carried the smell of gun oil and gummy bears towards her. So Amy did the irrational, impractical thing and threw her arms around him. She buried her face in the side of his neck, feeling his Adam's apple bob against her shoulder as he swallowed any protests.

"Stay safe." She mumbled into his skin, his warmth seeping into her.

His hands splayed along her back. "Gracias, mi amiga."

They held each other tight for a long time. It was an indulgence, to embrace each other where someone watching from the shadows might see. Still, it was an indulgence they took.

From Contact 1:
¿Quieres Joder?
(Wanna bone?)

Amy'd chosen Rosa's favorite euphemism as the signal. She looked up at Captain Holt, his hands clasped around his gun in front of his vest. Holt nodded, and the anticipation seemed to ripple through the assembled squad members.

"On my mark." Amy reminded them all. The rustle of kevlar was the only response. Her heart hammering, she sent the final text.

From Spanish Hottie:
Cáchate
(Go fuck yourself)

As soon as the message was sent, she began the countdown aloud. Ten seconds was all the time they'd allowed Jake to extricate himself from the danger. She hoped it would be enough.

Sooner than she'd realized, she'd hit one, and they were moving. Diaz and Boyle were flanking around the warehouse, and Sarge and the Captain were bursting in the front doors. Amy had taken the responsibility of finding Jake and making sure he was okay. As per their arrangement, Jake should've run to the back of the warehouse.

Her gun didn't shake as she found the back door, exactly where the FBI photos had shown it. Turning the handle, she pushed through, her gun swinging around as she assessed the room. Empty. No Jake, but no perps, so it could be worse. It was a small office, with a vacant desk against the wall next to a closed door leading out into the main floor. Shouting and crashing could be heard that way, but no shots, which was a relief. Amy stalked towards the door, preparing to sneak out and get eyes on the situation.

"I think there's a way out here, Leo!" His too-loud whisper carried to her, and Amy knew that had to be his intention. Jake's voice had a barely noticeable tremor. Something had gone wrong and he was working on the fly.

Thinking fast, Amy ducked down and crawled under the desk. It was terrible cover, there were no sides, anyone who looked down would see her in a second. She was banking on the perps being so intent on getting out that they didn't look back. No sooner had she tucked her feet under her did the door spring open.

"See, told you man, we're all clear." Jake sounded even shakier now, maybe more frightened now that he was in the apparently empty room. His sneakers appeared, shuffling with reluctance and dragging on the floor, closely followed by the shiny black boots Amy attributed to Leo Iannucci. They crossed to the exit and fled out of sight. Amy tried her best to unfold herself silently and pursue.

Creeping just inside the doorway, Amy looked out cautiously. The two figures were about halfway to the end of the alley. There wasn't any cover, and not much room to maneuver between the wall of the warehouse and the chain-link fence. The way Jake was walking one pace ahead of Iannucci, Jake's rigid neck, and Iannucci keeping his right elbow tucked into his side made Amy think he was probably armed.

She could chase them, but that just meant more time for Jake to get hurt. Confronting them meant losing the element of surprise, but she'd have Jake on her side. If she took the shot, incapacitate Iannucci quickly, that would solve everything. But at this distance, with Jake so close, her aim would have to be perfect. In that moment, honestly, she trusted Jake to help her more than she trusted her aim.

Amy raised her gun, training it on the back of Leo's head. "NYPD, turn around, hands up!" She demanded in a harsh shout that carried down the alley. Her finger tensed on the trigger as she saw his arm shoot out and snag Jake's sleeve. Iannucci whirled them both around in one deft move and held Jake in front of him. Jake cried out as his arm was twisted up behind his back as Iannucci used him as a human shield.

Jake looked at her bewildered, like he hadn't expected Iannucci to do that. Amy cursed herself internally, wishing she had just taken the shot. All she'd done was make it so she had to stare Jake in the face, to see his anxiety, even as they both struggled to stay calm. Over Jake's shoulder, Iannucci's eyes landed on her and grew round with shock.

"It's you," The crime boss said in a disbelieving whisper, "The firecracker." Amy could see him starting to put the pieces together, and she hoisted her gun a little higher.

"Let him go and put your weapon on the ground." She said, hoping to distract him.

"Leo, you better listen to her," Jake added, "She'd got a mean arm, believe me, you don't wanna be on her bad side."

"Oh no," Iannucci snarled, turning his gun to press against Jake's jaw, and Amy nearly lost her restraint on the trigger, "Don't play like you didn't know she was a cop! This has got your Peralta stink all over it."

"Okay, okay, okay," Jake blurted out, his adam's apple jumping as he craned his neck away from the gun that always followed, "You're right. This has been over for a while, there's nothing you can do now."

"My partners are emptying the building as we speak." Amy broke in, following Jake's lead. "They'll be moving into position to surround you. You've got nowhere to run." Contrary to her words, the crime lord took a couple steps back, forcing Jake to shakily mimic his motions.

"Yeah bitch, but I've got a hostage now." Leo said, turning to add sardonically in Jake's ear, "One ex-ex-cop, isn't that right, Jakey?" He yanked on the arm he still held, nearly sending Jake toppling over as his body contorted unnaturally.

"You think they won't shoot just 'cause you've got me?" Jake replied a touch more desperately. "You said it, Leo, 'brothers in blue' is a joke. Loyalty in thieves, remember?" His eyes kept flitting between the gun held to his jugular and Amy, and she thought she got what he was trying to get across.

"I said I would be the one to get you, Iannucci, and I will." Amy declared, letting some of that ruthless Santiago competitive streak shake her voice. Her hands clasped the gun more eagerly as she advanced, reducing the distance Leo kept putting between them. She hoped her face was a mask of bloodthirsty venom as she uttered what ought to be her damning line, "Even if I have to shoot through Peralta to do it."

There was a chilling moment where she wasn't sure he was gonna take the bait. Her gun was trained right where Leo's heart should be, but all Amy could see was Jake's shoulder, his leather jacket that she had laid her cheek on not one week ago. Her finger was too tight, too close to doing what she dreaded but she didn't dare move. In her mind she heard the bang, saw the blood fly, watched the flesh be torn through, only for the sound to repeat and send the visions cycling back.

Leo Iannucci, the notorious crime boss, looked between his once supposedly loyal muscle, and the girl he'd belittled and objectified without suspicion. He raised his arm with the same unsuspecting stupidity. The barrel of the gun left Jake's skin and started it's change of direction, but never completed its arc of pointing at Amy.

All in all, it was over in the blink of an eye. Amy watched it happen as if in slow motion, because she knew Jake's motions like she knew her police codes. His foot hooked back and swept Leo's leg out with him. Unbalanced, Leo began to tip backwards, his grip on Jake's arm weakening. Though she could not see it, Amy knew Jake was jamming his elbow back into Leo's solar plexus. With his free hand, Jake grabbed for the gun, and, thoroughly discombobulated, the fingers around the grip went slack. Landing his foot back on the ground, Jake spun around with the gun clasped in both hands just in time to see Leo crash to the ground.

Her breath came in harsh bursts, the adrenaline still pulsing under her skin as she rushed forward. Her gun was holstered and her cuffs were out without thinking about it. Amy pushed Leo, still dazed and immobile, onto his stomach as she restrained him. Jake's steady presence above her, keeping her covered, was more calming than anything. This was natural.

"Nice one, detective." Amy said, her voice sure and strong. She hadn't even really thought about the word choice, but when Jake looked at her with exuberant warmth, Amy realized just what he'd been missing. She stood, hoisting Iannucci with her. "Come on," She said with a gratified smirk, "The squad's waiting for us."

"The FBI is not happy." The Captain told her as she sat in his office, the procedural elements of her debriefing already concluded. "As you CO it is my duty and my pleasure to bear the brunt of their complaints." Amy winced, but Holt did seem unruffled by whatever the FBI was throwing at him. "I hope you had no aspirations of going federal after becoming Captain."

"It was worth it." She said, meaning it wholly.

"You and Peralta did admirably." Holt told her, and Amy did her best not to preen. "I trust I'll be seeing more from your partnership of this caliber."

That seemed to be a loaded question. His eyebrows were raised and the corner of his mouth was pulled up slightly. This was enigmatic fatherly expression #2. Amy wasn't sure what he was getting at for a moment, then she blushed. It took her a minute to decide on a response.

"Yes, I think Peralta and I… Jake…" She stared back at him, sticking through her answer. "It's only up from here, sir."

He nodded. "I'm glad to hear it detective."

He was not mentoring her, Amy reminded herself. He was not the Jack Donaghy to her Liz Lemon. Still, she couldn't deny this felt good.

"Does this mean everything's okay with Peralta's status?" Amy asked, professionally restraining the hope in her voice. "He can come back to work?"

Holt leaned back, "Under the circumstances, with the FBI reluctantly confirming Peralta's place in their Op, and in light of evidence of Deputy Commissioner Pedalsky accepting expensive gifts from the now dubious Lucas Wint," Amy suspected the Captain had a hand in unearthing that evidence, "I am fully prepared to push for Peralta's reinstatement to the Nine-Nine."

"Thank you, sir." Amy knew her grin was wide and toothy, probably with full on gum action, as she rose to leave.

"I have to say, I reviewed your reports." She turned to see that the Captain had stood with her. Unsure what to expect, and fearing she'd accidentally slipped in hints of their impropriety, Amy schooled her expression quickly. "I am impressed with your ingenuity." While the Captain hadn't seemed displeased, he was practically beaming at her now, and Amy relaxed. "I'm curious, what made you think of idioms as code?"

She cleared her throat, glad to have someone to tell this to. "My grandfather, sir. He had a unique way of imparting wisdom, but you always knew what he was saying." Amy conceded with a tilt of her head, adding, "Eventually." The Captain hummed his acknowledgement, and even maybe some amusement, and Amy knew she was free to go. Feeling freer than she had walking in, she pushed through his door out into the squad room, pausing beside Gina's empty desk.

Despite his dislike of cliches, the Captain and her grandfather were quite similar. Amy liked to think she was close enough now to Raymond Holt that they were capable of having implicit understandings. She thought perhaps he knew what she was planning, and that he approved enough not to talk her out of it. If she was wrong, well, she'd abide by a cliche: easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

He was in the center of the room, his hip propped against their desks as if from muscle memory. Surrounded by Rosa, Charles, Gina, the Sargent, and Hitchcock and Scully, Jake chatted away with a bright grin overtaking his face. The squad seemed to drink in his presence, leaning closer like moths to a brilliant blinding light. Something he was saying made him laugh, and Amy held her breath as the lines around his eyes creased.

She was moving before she was aware of it, striding towards him. Jake noticed her approach, and his eyes were wide as he guessed her intent. Paying no mind to their friends as she walked past, Amy reached his side and guided his lips to hers with a gentle hand on his freshly shaved cheek. It was soft, tender, and Amy drew one deep breath, taking in the familiar scent of him. His warmth, his lips, his breath, it was all the same as she remembered and yet completely different. This is what they'd wanted, what they'd deserved. This was Jake and Amy, one bet, one boyfriend, and one big freaking bust later, together through it all.

The whole squad was staring at them as they broke the kiss. Jake took her hand, igniting a fierce blush beneath her cheeks. He looked serenely at the slack shocked faces of their friends.

"En bocas cerradas, no entran moscas." Jake recited in perfect spanish, smug as he drew Amy away. She followed his lead, an uncontrollable bubbling giddiness in her heart.

Behind them she heard Rosa translate, "Shut your mouths or bugs'll get in. Since when does Peralta know Spanish?"

The End

Wow, I'm sorry, I posted the last chapter on AO3 yesterday but forgot to update it here. My bad! Oh well. This took so long to finish, a month between chapter 2 and 3, I feel so guilty. Hopefully enough of you stayed on till the end.

If you enjoyed this fic to tide us through the hiatus, let me know, please. I hang on your every word as I can only hope you hang on mine.

Yours truly,

Laury.