prompt: jake being the sweet and caring husband he is when amy gets her period, sometime during trying/before ding dong
The first thing Jake notices is the empty tampon packaging in the trash can in their bathroom, the blue cardboard sticking out amongst the tissues as he discards the last of his contact solution.
It’s presence doesn’t surprise him - it’s the same brand that Amy’s been using for years. Cross referenced with the other brands with her typical Type-A regularity for value, availability and reliability; she will often conclude her findings with a satisfied grin, pleased with the knowledge that she is in fact still using the best available option on the market. It’s packaging is a sight that’s as normal as all the rest, and having grown up with his mother and occasionally getting to the stage of regular stay-overs with various girlfriends over the years, Jake is no stranger to finding such things in the trash.
He’s been expecting it for days actually, which probably sounds odd but he’s known Amy for so long that he knows how to read the signs. Breast tenderness was one - and she’d pulled away slightly from the hug he’d given her a couple of days ago, eyebrows knitting in silent discomfort as she’d readjusted her position in his arms before tucking her face into his neck, and it made him realise that a few weeks had (somehow) already passed.
(It had been a hug of commiseration, the latest negative test in what felt like an endless tally of negatives still clutched in her left hand as she wound her arms around his waist, and he knew that she’d been hoping that all the signs her body had been sending her way would be related to a brand new life growing inside her, instead of an indicator for the opposite.)
Another sign (and admittedly, the more obvious one) was the tiny red dot that Amy marks on their calendar each month - in the same location as the ones she marks on her planner - and in true Santiago style, it was right on time. So the empty carton comes as no surprise - but if he was to be completely honest, there was still a tiny part of him that had held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, after they’d given up the rigid scheduling and just started trying to try, that maybe this time the test would be wrong, and they’d have finally gotten it right.
But they hadn’t, and now her body has the receipts.
He knows that Amy thinks it’s her that is failing them, and even though he makes the joke, he wishes that she’d acknowledge the likelihood of it being his. After all, you only need to compare the difference between their genes to know which one of their bodies is way more likely to turn up for their duty on time and ready to go, and which is likely to be a few minutes (too) late. Whether she can’t see it or simply doesn’t want to, Jake isn’t sure. But he’d give anything to be able to make it easier.
Amy’s already in the process of swallowing two Advil at their kitchen sink when he walks in, and as she stretches forward to wash out her glass Jake wraps his left arm around her middle, pressing his chest against her back as he squeezes. Letting out a soft hey, she leans into his touch, and even though Jake can feel the smile on her face when he presses a kiss to her cheek, he can hear the resignation in her voice. He lowers his head to leave another kiss along the side of her neck, wrapping both arms around her middle and resting his forehead against her shoulder when her hands move to cover his. She sighs, and slowly he nods.
“You smell good,” she whispers to break the silence, and eventually Jake shifts his hands from her middle to their kitchen counter, giving her room to turn in place. He catches her gaze when they’re finally face to face, finding all of the sadness that she’s trying so valiantly to mask, mirroring her response when she shrugs in a total loss for words. Her hand moves to rest against his cheek, a touch that is so familiar but still feels so perfect every time she does it, and when he leans in for proper kiss all he can think is how he’d give her the world, if he only knew how.
“I’m just about to call my mom,” Amy mumbles, resting her hands on Jake’s waist and letting them linger as he begins to step back. “I’ve been putting it off for days.” It was something that used to be a lot more regular - until the conversation began to turn towards ovulation schedules and conception suggestions - and as the months went by it just became too difficult for Amy to hear how easy it was for others to do the one thing she was struggling so hard to get right.
Jake nods, deciding in the interim to do a run to the nearest corner store and grab a few necessities. (This phone call, he knew, was going to need space - and he rather give it to Amy before she needed to ask.)
He can hear the hey, mom from their bedroom as he peels the list from it’s magnetic pad on the fridge, and blowing Amy a kiss even though he knows she’ll never see it from the kitchen he heads out, closing the door just loudly enough for her to know that he’s definitely gone.
The Sampson’s Grocers is a relatively new addition to their neighbourhood, a family owned business that sits five and half blocks away from their apartment but always has the best produce. The aisles are familiar to Jake, the layout remaining unchanged each time he comes here with Amy, and he grabs a basket from the door and begins filling it up as he moves through the store.
Because it was written by his wife, the list in his hand has been itemised according to aisle, and it takes him no time at all to gather all of the items, deciding to do a second lap just in case there’s something they’ve both forgotten to put down (and perhaps also to buy Amy and Camila just a little more time).
Because he loves his wife, he stops past the sanitary products in aisle seven, grabbing a twin pack of each level of absorbency and making a mental note to collect the chocolate she likes on the way back to the register.
Because he believes in their future, he gathers another three packets of Amy’s favoured pregnancy test - the ones with the 99.9% certified accuracy - and places them in the basket next to the tampons.
(And because they’re on sale, he grabs an extra packet of sour gummy worms that may or may not end up making it all the way home.)
Normally, for the first few days of her period Amy would be seeking all of her favourites - warm blankets, hot chocolate, takeout and a marathon run of old Jeopardy episodes, all in no particular order. Long since mastering the art of filing up water bottles with one hand while ordering takeout online with the other, Jake hesitates outside their favourite Thai restaurant before deciding to forgo.
(These past few months have been different, and he has the strongest instinct that today is going to be the same.)
She’s on the couch with a blanket covering her feet by the time he walks in the door, eco-friendly bags hanging in his left hand as he closes the door with his right, and gives him a soft smile as he heads towards the kitchen to put everything away. Her positioning leads Jake to think that the pain relief has kicked in but he still moves quickly, eager to return to Amy (it is their day off together, after all), and as he’s finishing up he calls out if she needs anything.
“No. Just you.” Comes her reply, and maybe there’s still a couple of items left on the counter, but clearly out of the two options (out of ANY two options, really), Amy is going to be his priority, and he makes a beeline straight to the living room, capturing her smile and storing it away in his heart with all of the others when he gets there. Grabbing his left hand, Amy pulls it towards her and leaves a kiss against his palm, and when Jake shuffles along the couch to move closer she snuggles into his side, resting her head against his shoulder like that is it’s second home (which, to be fair, it kind of is).
Amy’s hand slides around his waist, toying with the belt loops of his jeans, and after a pause she glances up. “My mom suggested a hormonal assistance program I could start taking that .. actually sounds kinda promising. I’m going to call my doctor tomorrow and see what she thinks.”
He nods, running his right hand along her forearm. “That sounds like a great idea, babe.” She nods into his hoodie, and when the silence stretches out he continues. “Do you want me to get you a hot water bottle or anything?”
Her grip around his waist tightens, as though Jake’s sentence alone was enough of a threat for her, and shakes her head before tucking her nose into his neck. “No. Just you.”
He nods again, resting his head against hers as she takes in a deep breath. This has been the change in recent months, now that the beginning of her period doesn’t just mean persistent aches from all the cramping and no chance of sex for five to seven days. Now, it told her that even though they’d tried their hardest - and then for a little while, didn’t officially ‘try’ at all - that despite her best efforts, nothing had worked, and they (she) had failed again. Now, the pain wasn’t just from the contracting muscles in her uterine walls (he’s read a lot about conception and biology in the last six months); now, the pain is compounded by the confirmation that once again, there would be no mini Peralta-Santiago arriving in nine months time.
She asks him if he thinks everything is going to work out; her voice so soft you almost wouldn’t hear it (but he hears her, even when she thinks he doesn’t), and he nods, shifting to press a kiss to her forehead to seal the promise. There’s no way for him to know for sure - and he’s well aware that as time presses on things will only get harder - but he believes in them with every fibre of his being, and if there was anybody that could come out of this battle a winner, it is Amy Santiago.
So he tells her yes, tells her that he loves her and that everything will be okay, and because she loves him her body relaxes against his, knees curling up until they’re resting just along the outside of his thigh.
“You know, I could actually kinda go for some chocolate,” she mumbles, twisting her neck until her cheek is resting against his chest, and Jake smiles in victory because he knew this was coming.
“Ask and you shall receive, my darling wife.” His left hand disappears from her thigh, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie and grinning brightly as he reveals a family sized block of her favourite - thankfully unmelted due to the slightly cooler weather outside - and her eyes light up in glee. She gives him a chocolate flavoured kiss a few minutes later, telling her she loves him with her actions just as much as her words, and honestly, all of world’s problems could probably be solved by a little chocolate.
It will only be a few more weeks before there will be no need for the recently purchased packets of tampons, and they will get stashed away to the back of the cupboard for their eventual need in nine or ten months time, but for now the day passes with the two of them stretched out on the couch.
There is so much proof of their love within these four walls, and the greatest proof of all is yet to come, but for now all they need is a couple of Advil, a block of chocolate, and the arms of the one you love.
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