Disclaimer: I do not own Brooklyn Nine-Nine or its characters. Such is the property of Dan Goor, Michael Schur, Fox, and NBC Universal Television. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

42ndWeek

…

Amy Santiago-Peralta was a little inconvenienced.

That was inaccurate.

Amy Santiago-Peralta was mildly annoyed.

That was putting it gently.

Amy Santiago-Peralta was generally concerned.

That was a gross understatement.

Amy was freaking out to all holy hack!

She waddled out of the elevator, into the bull-pen. Ignoring the weight-stress in her feet and ankles. One arm curled under her full-term pregnancy belly, the other arm cradling a very thick binder –not only with cascading tabs- but subject dividers and color-coded contingencies. To spite the swollen pregnant belly, and the almost cartoonish waddle, anyone who saw her would instantly forget that she was on maternity leave and see only Detective Santiago on the warpath.

The end of that path: Detective Jake Peralta.

She slammed the binder down on his desk. The tabs bouncing slightly with the impact. A shockwave of air scattering the disorganized mess of documents and case-files surrounding his keyboard. Jake smile up at her.

"Hey… Aims… So, I'm sensing your mad about something…" He noted the binder she nearly broke is desk with. It was her 40thweek binder –Amy had a binder for every week of her pregnancy. Standard human pregnancy was 40 weeks, so she prepared 40 binders.

They were in week number-

"Forty-Two!" She snarled at him. "We're into week 42! Jake Peralta-Santiago Peraltiago!"

They were off the binders now.

Amy was out of binders.

Somewhere off to the side Jake heard Charles squeal and whisper "She called him 'Peraltiago'!"

"This is your fault." She growled, voice low and threatening. She might have bent over his desk to get in his face, but bending was not a thing she did the past twelve weeks. It was noted in the binders. "This baby is late. No Santiago have ever been late in their life. Ever! This is your genes at work. Your tardy, disorganized, slovenly, lazy genes!"

Cautiously, so as not to further upset his already upset wife, Jake backed up from his desk.

Then turned to the rest of the bullpen. "That's my wife, everybody!" he announced, trying to cover up just how nervous he actually was over the whole thing with humor and bravado. "That's my baby she's describing!"

For half a second, the very pregnant, hormonal, and overdue Amy looked like she was about to pick up the Week 40 binder and slam it down on Peralta's face.

But before she could, Holt opened the door to his office and leaned out. "Peraltiagos! You will stop this distracting juvenile display and take yourselves to the hospital and just induce labor." A pause. "Sargent Jeffords, go with them for when Peralta inevitably breaks down into hysterics and becomes more of a hindrance than a help."

"Yes, sir!" Amy was quick to nod with enthusiasm that she was still receiving orders from her commanding officer even while on leave.

"Shouldn't we just wait for her to come out when she's ready?" Jake asked, his juvenile devil-may-care façade cracking just a bit to show the maturing concerned father he actually was.

"Jake, get your coat!" Terry snapped, putting on his own.

…

END