Who cooks

"Why would you agree to host Thanksgiving dinner? Do you remember what happened two years ago? If I recall, you substituted baking soda for salt in your mashed potatoes."

"Shut up. You weren't even there," Amy retaliated, slapping her boyfriend on the shoulder.

"Well, I might not have been there to suffer through that dinner, but I have had to suffer through some of your other attempts at cooking," Jake said with a smirk. "Honey, I love you. You're a great detective and amazing at so many things, but cooking is not one of them. Just face it, you can't cook."

"Well you're one to talk, Mr. I'll-just-call-for-take-out-and-pretend-that-I-really-cooked-it."

"Okay, that's different."

"How so?"

"First of all, I didn't realize you knew I did that. Second of all, I do that because I'm lazy, not because I can't cook."

"You can't cook," Amy stated back to him. "Our meals at home consist entirely of take-out, sandwiches and frozen dinners. Hate to break it to you babe, but you can't cook."

"Oh, I can absolutely cook," Jake stated confidently, his competitive side coming through.

"Well then, if you're so confident, prove it. Cook Thanksgiving dinner," Amy challenged.

"Fine I will." He looked up at Amy who was failing at hiding her laughter.

"That was too easy," she teased.

"Damn it," Jake said, cursing his and Amy's competitive nature. He loved that Amy was just as competitive as he was, but far too often it got him into trouble.

"I can't believe I got you to agree to make Thanksgiving dinner for the precinct. Well, actually, I can believe it," Amy smirked.

"You're lucky you're cute," Jake said before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in for a kiss.