#that thing has a bar on the floor that prevented me from scooching as close as i needed to use the keyboard or tablet comfortably

[coconutcoconutcoconut]

i cannot BELIEVE i made it this long with such a cramped computer setup (prolly part of why i was finding it hard to draw) but having a normal sized one feels luxurious now as a result

[peralta-guaranteed]

(I misread / misunderstood an anon prompt a while ago and it did NOT sit right with me... especially since I had an idea for the original meaning of the prompt. SO here it is, Amy and Jake sharing a bath at cop con:)

“It’s me, babe!” Jake shouts into the empty room, as if anyone else would just enter their shared hotel room anyway. But they’ve had their share of drunk pranks at cop con, so it’s best to be prepared.

“In the bathroom!” Amy shouts back, and Jake toes off his shoes, slips out of the stupid tie he still has to wear even if Holt isn’t even there this time, and drops his flannel on a chair before following her voice.

She’s sunk deep into the bathtub, surrounded by foam mountains, her hair floating on top of some soap bubbles, her eyes closed. Beautiful, he thinks, like always, and is reminded of some painting they’ve seen on yet another documentary she made him watch. But that one didn’t have too happy of a story behind it, he recalls, so maybe it’s best not to associate it with his naked girlfriend in a bath.

“Hey babe.” He sits down on the wide edge of the hotel tub, scratching along her hairline in lieu of a hello kiss. “How was your afternoon?”

Amy hums deep and dissatisfied, her closed eyes scrunching up even more. “Doesn’t matter. It’s bath time now.”

Jake eyes the empty glass and bottle on the floor next to the tub.

“Seems like it’s wine time, too. You know the party isn’t until tomorrow evening, you don’t have to pre-game that hard.”

“Ssssshshshsh.” She waves a hand and splashes some water on the ground. “Bath time.”

“I take it the discussion panel about Women-Led Mini Task Forces and the talk about Organisational Improvements in Evidence Tagging weren’t what you expected?” She’d ditched their little squad group this afternoon for these ‘really interesting’ events that none of them could fake interest for, especially not if a hall full of cool cop gear was calling their names.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Bath. Time.” She insists once more, and he accepts that, getting up to bring the glass and bottle out of danger-range once she gets out of the tub.

“Do you want more wine? I think there’s a red one in the mini bar, too.”

“Mmmh, we can share it later.” She answers, and slips a wet finger through his beltloops to prevent him from leaving. “You’re too far away.”

“I’m right here, Ames.”

“Too far.” She pulls on his jeans again. “C’mere.” She tries to pat the water like she would the mattress beside her, which - doesn’t quite work. Jake huffs a little laugh before pulling his under-shirt over his head.

“Alright, scooch forward.”

She does so while he gets rid of the rest of his clothes and slips into the very hot water behind her, trying hard not to yelp. Amy loves to boil herself alive, somehing he’s learned from their shared showers as well, but it’s a bit easier to stomach if it’s just a steady stream from a showerhead and not a full bath enveloping them.

He waits a minute, until enough water has flown out to not soak the entire bathroom floor if he moves, to pull her back against his chest, feeling her sigh and melt against him immediately.

Beautiful, he thinks again as he gets a slightly skewed bird’s eye view over her hair-splayed shoulders, the foamy water sadly high enough to cover her chest, and her dainty knees poking out between his own a bit further down. 

“How was your afternoon?” She asks quietly, close enough that he’d hear her if she whispered.

“Pretty good, but I don’t wanna hold it over your shit day.” He swipes her hair away from her back, plants a little kiss right there against wet skin.

“Mhh.” She hums again, drawing idle circles on the side of his knee and up his thigh with her fingertips. “Distract me with it.”

“There’s just so much cool gear we’re probably never gonna get.” He reaches over for the peeling glove she’s brought along, because Amy Santiago travels to a two-day-convention with her entire bathroom ensemble, and he kinda loves her for it. “They had that sonic sound blast thingie again. I think Charles might be permanently deaf in his left ear now.”

Her hum turns into a low, continuous noise of content as he starts rubbing across her arms and shoulders, soaping up her back and massaging the spots he knows always tense up on bad days.

“They’ve got this weird robot dog too, I think the NYPD might be getting it. It’s so freaky. I think some googly eyes would make it seem friendlier, but that’s probably not what they’re going for.” He continues, answered by another hum, and he’s pretty sure she’s only half-listening during her massage, her hands shifting up and down his thighs and squeezing once in a while.

“I think Rosa missed you, though.” He smiles as he thinks back to their friend, who’d never admit that out loud. “She kept turning around to show off something cool and would look at me and Charles all dissappointed.”

“Aww.” Is the first reply he gets. “I’m not gonna ditch you guys tomorrow, I promise.” She reaches her arms up to link behind his neck, finally giving him a good view of her frankly perfect chest covered in suds, and he decides that her back is more than clean enough to focus the peeling glove on her front. He’s rewarded with a definitely tipsy giggle as he kisses that spot right behind her ear, too.

“You want me to do your hair?” He asks when he’s pretty much slathered her front in soapy bubble streaks, and she growls.

“Yes, please. But don’t tell Charles.”

He laughs as he clambers up to perch on the back of the tub, for a better range to reach her head.

“Don’t worry, babe.” He shampoos her hair and starts trying to emulate what he remembers from hairdresser appointments, digging his fingers into the back of her neck and her temples, earning himself some very low groans and hums, so he must be doing something right. He also tilts her head back and holds a hand over her hairline when he rinses the shampoo out, to make sure none of it runs into her eyes, and it’s these tiny, barely there things he does to take care of her that make Amy’s heart flutter, even after a whole bottle of wine. Maybe especially then.

She turns around and sits up on her knees when he’s done, enjoying the soap-covered show of him on the bathtub edge as much as he probably enjoyed the view earlier, and grins.

“Your turn, babe.” She purrs, but he only snickers and shakes his head.

“I’m all good. Probably gonna take a shower later, anyway. After, you know.”

“After?” She tilts her head in question, despite knowing exactly what he means.

“Yeah.” He pulls her up for their first proper kiss today, and he makes sure it’s a proper one. Her toes curl only slightly under the water. “After.” She feels whispered against her lips.

(He makes sure to towel her off, before carrying her to the incredibly comfortable hotel bed, so they don’t soak the sheets. At least not with soapy bath water.)