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therealjordan23 · 3 years

Note

i know u usually dont write in the b99 fandom, but can u do some charles boyle angst?

Sure anon :) Takes place after S7E3, Pimemento

ooo

"Boyle?" a voice asked behind him.

Charles swiveled around in his chair to find Rosa staring at him, her expression concerned and confused.

"Hey, Diaz," Charles commented, not bothering to give her another glance, keeping his gaze focused on the case sitting on his desk.

Rosa frowned: it wasn't unusual for anyone to call her Diaz, but coming from Charles? It made her feel uncomfortable, so she set a hand on his shoulder. She noticed him tense up from the contact, and she immediately guessed something had happened between him and Jake.

"What are you doing?"

He let out a groan. "A case, what else?"

Now she was sure something had happened between Charles and Jake. She gripped his shoulder tightly, and spun him around so that he was facing her. To her surprise, Charles didn't shy away from her intense scrutiny like he, or anyone, usually would. He glared right back at her, giving her a harsh look, but Rosa didn't flinch: she knew he wasn't going home, he spent his free days at work, and his wife and son were getting worried. It was also pretty visible that he wasn't acting like his usual self: he was growing out a heavy stubble, there were bags underneath his eyes, and he usually smelled of alcohol. Rosa noticed that he never wore his usual plain shirt, khakis, tie, and dress shoes anymore, opting for a simple NYPD hoodie and jeans. While it wasn't a bad outfit, she knew it wasn't approved by Captain Holt, along with the fact that it was out of character for Charles.

"Take your hand off my shoulder," he mumbled, his voice cold.

"No," Rosa said curtly. "I know something's up, and I want to know what it is. You're never like this."

He let out a harsh laugh, standing up, ripping his shoulder away from her tight grip. "I think that's the problem! Maybe I should be like this more often." With that, he headed towards the evidence room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Rosa spent the day watching the surveillance footage from the evidence room: Charles sat down at the spare desk, finishing cases with alarming speed. He would grab another one off the shelf, and would solve it so fast, she was positive that even Jake couldn't keep up.

Knowing she wasn't going to get to Boyle, she decided to go talk to Jake.

"Peralta," Rosa frowned, crossing her arms, looming over him. "What's up with Boyle?"

Jake frowned. "How should I know? I haven't seen him all day."

"He's in the evidence room, because he doesn't want to face any of us," she said plainly, and his eyes widened.

"Damn," he groaned. "I knew he would make it a big deal."

"Make what a big deal?" Amy asked, stepping over to them.

Jake sighed. "Rosa, remember when Amy told you we were going to try for a baby? Well, Charles didn't know, until last week, when Pimento came in with his memory loss. I told Adrian, because I assumed he would just forget what I told him. But… he didn't, and ended up telling Charles."

Rosa glared at him. "Jake—"

"I know it was wrong, but Amy didn't want him to know. Charles was really hurt, and he said he couldn't remember why we were even friends," Jake ran his fingers through his brown locks. "He was also angry that I kept blowing him off."

"But I thought you fixed all this." Amy frowned.

Jake sighed. "We did… I don't know what the problem is now! If anything, he's the one blowing me off!" Jake cried dramatically.

Rosa nodded. "I'll go talk to him."

She walked towards the evidence room, and knocked on the door. "Boyle, open ip. It's me. I need an old case file."

Rosa heard him trudge towards the door, and he slowly unlocked it, not bothering to look at her. He walked back to the spare desk that lied in the evidence room, keeping his eyes on the case. Rosa shut the door, locking it behind her.

"Alright. We need to talk."

Charles stared at her in disbelief. "You lied to me just to get in here?"

Rosa rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Tell me what's wrong, Charles. This isn't you."

He smirked. "Well, maybe I'm sick of being myself. Maybe… maybe if I wasn't myself, Amy would have trusted me with the news of her and Jake trying for a baby. Face it, Diaz, I'm just not one of the gang. I'm not you, or Holt, or Amy, or Terry, or Gina! I'm just… on the sidelines, connected to Jake: somebody who doesn't even want to be connected to me." Charles shut the last case he was working on, and let out a small groan.

Before Rosa could reply to the shocking words he had just said, he added, "Can you tell Holt that I'm going to go home? Niko will still be at school, and Genevieve won't be home for another 2 hours. Maybe I can get a quick shower in."

Rosa felt her heart shatter at the sight of the man who knew her best falling apart—she wanted to help, but how could she? These were Boyle's own feelings of not feeling adequate or as "in" as the rest of the group. He felt like a black sheep, and that was understandable. How was she supposed to help? What was she supposed to say? It was usually Charles reassuring the group, Charles holding them together, Charles giving them advice: they had been so busy with their own problems, that they were completely oblivious to Boyle's misery.

They were selfish.

Boyle grabbed his things, and before he could exit, he turned to her. "You know? After my divorce, there were only a few things keeping me from falling apart: my parents, my dogs, and… and this precinct, including the people in it. I care about everyone here more than myself… it just hurts to know that they don't feel the same way."

With that, he left her alone inside the evidence room. She eyed the desk where he had been working, and sat down at the vacant chair.

ooo

There was a gentle tap on her shoulder, followed by another persistent tap.

"Rosa?"

Rosa blinked. Where was she?

"Amy? God… where am I?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"The evidence room. You've been in here for almost 2 hours." Amy frowned.

Rosa stretched. "I guess I was just… thinking."

Amy leaned on the desk. "About?"

"Boyle," Rosa answered. "And how awful we are to him."

Amy snorted, and opened her mouth to protest. "Rosa—"

"Amy!" Rosa snapped. "He keeps this precinct glued together! He makes sure we're okay, he supports Jake to no end. In fact, his and Jake's friendship is one sided! Have you ever seen Jake supporting Charles, to the extent that Charles supports him?!" she began ranting.

Amy was taken aback. "Rosa, you need to calm down—"

"No!" Rosa snapped. "He took 2 bullets for me! We spent 2 years calling him Mr. Grapes, which I know was a joke, but it must have been hurting him! He… he loves us, but we haven't been great about showing him that we love him back. That's why he's been down! That's why he's been avoiding us, his family, and it's also why he's been staying here, solving more cases than you and Jake solved during your little bet!"

Amy scoffed. "That's impossible… Charles isn't even that smart, he can't—'"

Rosa shoved one of his finished case files into her hands, and she opened it, studying the contents. Amy's eyes widened: his notes were clean and detailed, his writeup went above Holt's expectations…

"He said he was too afraid to 'take anyone's thunder'." Amy managed weakly, the truth of Rosa's words sinking into her.

"Because he puts other people's needs in front of his own," Rosa said quietly and bitterly. "Remember that airplane ride back to Brooklyn? After you gained intel on Figgis? Who was reassuring you?"

"Boyle was."

"Who convinced Jake to carry on with your relationship?" Rosa prompted.

"Boyle did."

Rosa seethed. "Who set up your goddamn wedding?!"

Amy grew annoyed. "Boyle did!"

Rosa chuckled. "And you couldn't trust him with the fact that you and Jake were trying for a baby."

Amy felt tears prick her eyes. "I didn't know it would hurt him that bad!"

"Because we don't care about his emotions!" Rosa cried. "He cares about us, but we don't care about him… what kind of friends are we?"

With that, Rosa left Amy inside the evidence room. She grabbed her motorcycle helmet: if Amy was right about the fact that she had fallen asleep for 2 hours, Boyle should have just been leaving his house, especially if he didn't want to be discovered by his wife and son.

"Detective Diaz!" Holt called, but Rosa ignored him. She ran towards the stairwell, dashing for her motorcycle. She needed to see him. She needed to talk to him.

Amy ran out of the evidence room. "Where did she go?"

Jake frowned. "She left, and took her motorcycle helmet and left. What's wrong?"

Amy grabbed her keys. "I just watched the surveillance footage, before Boyle left the building. He looked really hurt. I think he's in trouble." Before Jake could ask anymore questions, Amy left the precinct, and Jake was quick to follow.

ooo

Rosa pulled up to the Boyle household, inspecting the building: his car was still out, so he had to be here.

"Charles!" Rosa snapped, pounding the door.

When there was no answer, she felt a sinking feeling in her gut, and she didn't hesitate to grab her gun. She found herself shooting the doorknob, and kicking the door down.

She heard soft sobs coming from Nikolaj's bedroom, so she quietly crept her way towards it.

"I'm so sorry, buddy," Charles whimpered, clutching his son's shirt. "I thought I'd be strong enough for this, but I… I can't do this." he sniffled.

Her eyes widened when she spotted a knife near him. When he reached for it, she didn't hesitate to kick the door open. She tackled him, and punched him across the jaw—he didn't get angry like she expected, in fact, he didn't respond at all. He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his tears to flow freely, and Rosa pulled him into a hug: they stayed like that, with her holding him, running her hands through his hair. He buried his face into her chest, and she felt her jacket become wet with his tears, but she didn't care.

That's how Jake and Amy found them: with Charles clutching onto Rosa for dear life, a knife just a few feet away from them. Jake slowly walked inside the bedroom, dropped onto his knees, and wrapped both Rosa and Charles in a hug, gently resting his chin on top of Boyle's head. Amy was quick to join, wrapping her arms around Boyle's waist, pulling him in close.

No context was needed.

ooo

I love Charles and Rosa’s friendship.

I know I made Jake and Amy seem like antagonists here, but the sad part is, it isn’t even that far off from their usual behaviour towards Charles. It doesn’t sit right with me when he’s treated like shit, so... guess I just made my own form of justice for him.

#brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine-nine #b99 #charles boyle #jake peralta #rosa diaz #amy santiago #pimemento #ask #fic #angst

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vernonfielding · 4 years

Text

I’ll keep it (our secret)

Jake agrees it's best they don't tell Charles they're trying. It's just really, really hard. (Yep, it’s a missing scene from Pimemento.)

Thanks to @fezzle for the beta! She’s just the best, you guys. And thanks also to @exploding-snapple, who inadvertently inspired this story, somewhat, from a conversation we had last week.

Read on AO3.

The morning after their first foray into baby-making sex, Jake is sitting at his desk when a woman walks into the precinct holding a baby on her hip and weirdly, his first thought is, ‘That was fast.’

It’s followed immediately by his second thought, which is that the baby, of course, is not his.

“Can I help you?” Jake says to the woman.

“Someone broke into my apartment last night,” the woman says, and then bursts into tears.

Jake’s not bad with people who are crying; he’s not great with them either. But the bullpen is currently empty of detectives other than Hitchcock and Scully, who appear to be playing cat’s cradle with their toes, so he leads the woman to the chair by his own desk and waits for her to calm down enough to tell him more. He gets why the woman is freaked out -- she woke up this morning to find her living room in disarray, her TV and laptop and purse all gone -- but it’s a relatively boring case. When he’s done getting the basics, the woman -- her name is Caroline Wu -- dabs at her eyes and sniffles dramatically.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess, it’s just my wife is out of town and this is my first time alone with the baby,” Ms. Wu says, gesturing to the kid on her lap. He has black hair that sticks up straight all over, like a cartoon character who’s just been shocked, and he’s been drooling steadily for the past half hour.

“It’s okay,” Jake says. “We’ll take care of this.”

The woman gives him a weak, watery smile and rubs at her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen and her cheeks are a splotchy pink and he feels bad for noticing that she’s kind of a wreck. He feels worse when she sighs and says, “I’m such a mess. Is there a bathroom I can use?”

“Yeah, down the hall,” Jake says, and nods in the right direction.

The woman stands, shuffling the baby back onto her hip, and then she bites her lip and shuffles her feet before saying, “I hate to ask, but- would you mind holding my son? I’ll just be a minute.”

Jake feels himself go wide-eyed for a moment, then shakes himself and says, “Sure, yeah, here,” and holds his hands up for the baby. Ms. Wu passes him over and thanks Jake and heads down the hall, her sneakers squeaking against the linoleum.

The baby is heavy in his arms, and Jake sets him on his knee and bounces him a little. The kid could be three months old or three years, Jake honestly has no clue. He blinks up at Jake, looking totally unbothered to be left here without his mom, and Jake wonders if it’s too early for a “stranger danger” conversation.

“Can you talk?” Jake says to the baby. The baby drools. “Okay, well. I’m Jake. I guess you can’t tell me your name.”

He’s held babies before, of course: Ava and Iggy, Amy’s niece Dolores and her nephew Reggie, Cagney and Lacey, though not when they were this small. He’s never really noticed before how warm babies are, and how sturdy. This baby’s eyes are so brown they’re almost black, and he’s looking at Jake like he can see straight into his soul (and hasn’t yet made up his mind about whether he likes what he sees).

The baby jams a fist in his mouth, and in the same instant he grabs for the badge around Jake’s neck and yanks, hard. Jake lurches forward in his chair and throws his arms around the baby to keep him from slipping off his knee to the floor, and that’s when he hears the shutter-click of an iphone camera and looks up into the gleeful face of Charles.

“This is so beautiful,” says Charles, who may or may not be crying. “I’m sending it to Amy.”

Jake hears the “swoosh” of a sent message, and less than a minute after that his own phone vibrates on his desk. Jake shuffles the baby to his other knee so he can pick up the phone. It’s a text from Amy, all caps: DO NOT TELL HIM.

Jake sighs and sets his phone face-down on his desk. The baby has stuffed Jake’s badge in his mouth, and Charles is still taking photos. This is going to be impossible.

+++

It’s not like Jake actually tells Charles everything. He kept the proposal a secret -- never even let on that he was buying the ring. He doesn’t talk about his sex life (it’s too private, and Charles’ brain and/or heart couldn’t take it anyway), or about how sometimes Amy’s tendency to schedule every minute of their shared days off makes him want to burn her special weekend binders (just a little burning -- like a light char).

But this feels different. A baby -- that’s such a huge step, and Jake’s excited, his whole body practically thrumming with a nervous, joyful anticipation, but he’s still scared, too. And now that they’re committed to this, like actually having the unprotected baby-making sex (and oh god, Amy could be pregnant right now), Jake doesn’t want to lay all his fears on Amy. She needs him to be all in, and he is all in, he truly is, but it’s possible to be all in and also terrified, he’s realizing, because that’s where he’s at.

He can’t even articulate to himself what he’s scared of, exactly. He knows by now that he won’t be his dad, that he would never abandon Amy or their child and that he’ll always do his very best. But what if his best still isn’t good enough? What if he lets them down in some way he can’t even begin to imagine right now, because he never had a dad to let him down (other than the obvious let-down of total abandonment -- but aside from that)? Jake doesn’t even know what he doesn’t know about being a good father.

Charles would say, ‘You’re Jake, any baby you father is going to be the luckiest baby in the world.’ And then he’d say, ‘You’re going to be top ten, maybe top five dads of all time, like probably not better than Mufasa or Full House’s Danny Tanner, but right up there.’ And then things would start to get weird and Charles would talk about how he wishes Jake was his father, and Jake would have to hang up on him or walk away or whatever, but the other stuff? Jake kind of really wants to hear that right now. He wants Charles’ uncomplicated, unrelenting confidence in all things Jake.

+++

“You can tell Charles if you really want to,” Amy says that night, after their second round of baby-making sex of the evening.

Jake’s feeling pretty spent as the sweat cools on his face and chest, and he idly winds his fingers through Amy’s hair. She’s tucked up against him, her head on his shoulder, and he can feel her heart still beating fast.

“Are you really talking about Charles?” Jake says, and Amy chuckles.

“I was thinking about how right now one of your little sperms might be swimming to my egg and this could be it,” Amy says, and Jake feels a nervous, happy flutter in his belly. “And then I realized that was exactly the kind of thing Charles would be thinking about, which, by the way, is why we’re not telling him. But he’s your best friend, and-”

“Ames, you’re my best friend,” Jake says, and pulls her closer to him. “It’s fine if we keep this just between us.”

“And Rosa,” Amy says.

“And- You told Rosa?” Jake sits up a little, and Amy rolls onto her back and gives him a sheepish half-smile.

“I’d told her when I thought I might be pregnant. You were dealing with the manhunt and I was freaking out a little and I needed her help,” Amy says. “And then the next day she asked how you’d taken it and I kind of just- told her we were trying. I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Jake says quickly, leaning over to kiss her briefly. “At least we know Rosa won’t tell anyone, ever.”

Whereas Charles -- well. “I just don’t want everyone to know,” Amy says. “We don’t know how long this will take, or if there might even be problems along the way. And if we tell Charles you know he’ll start bringing in some kind of animal placenta soup and trust me, there will be plenty of time for morning sickness later, I don’t need the nausea now.”

“I get it, babe,” Jake says. He lies back down alongside her, and this time he rests his head on her shoulder, and he traces his fingers over her flat stomach. “Just us. And Rosa.”

Amy laughs, and Jake feels it under his fingers and imagines a baby there. He lays his palm over her skin and concentrates.

“I love you,” Amy says.

“Love you too.”

+++

The next morning Jake gets a call from Terry before Amy’s first alarm has even gone off. He’s got a suspected kidnapping case, and he needs Jake and Charles at the scene ASAP.

“Please tell me this is kicking your paternal instinct into overdrive,” Charles says, as soon as they’ve walked into La Petite Bebe daycare center, where a dozen children of various sizes, shapes and colors are toddling and squatting and crying and chewing on things.

Jake hisses, “Not now, Charles,” and squares his shoulders as a middle-aged woman with her hair pulled into a messy ponytail rushes toward them and introduces herself as Lena, the owner of the daycare.

One of the children has gone missing, Lena says, and shows them the ledger where she keeps track of drop-offs. She points out the name of the 5-month-old who was delivered by her father that morning at 6 a.m. and is now nowhere to be found.

“Could she have left on her own?” Jake says.

Lena stares at him, and Jake feels his cheeks start to burn. “She’s 5 months old,” she repeats. “She can’t even crawl yet.”

“So, no,” Jake says.

Lena leads them to a sofa where they can talk while her aide watches the remaining kids. She gives them a description of the baby: short brown hair, blue eyes, wearing pink leggings and a white onesie printed with “Welcome to the Shit Show” (“I don’t dress them,” Lena adds quickly). The parents are married and don’t seem to have any conflict. She’s called them both and left messages but they haven’t replied yet -- they don’t know their child is missing.

Charles takes notes and Jake is doing a fine job of not getting distracted by the total chaos around them, until a small child suddenly crawls right up to him, uses his knee to leverage herself to her feet, and makes a grab for his badge. She’s shoved it in her mouth before Jake can figure out what he’s supposed to do.

Lena sighs and picks up the child, who wails when Jake’s badge slips out of her mouth.

“Sorry about that,” she says.

“It’s okay. I haven’t even cleaned it since the last one,” Jake says.

Five minutes later, the mother calls and tells Lena there was a miscommunication with her husband -- little Leslie wasn’t supposed to go to daycare at all that day, so they came by and picked her up and took her home and oops, forgot to tell anyone. She’s sorry for the inconvenience.

“Parents,” Lena says, shoulders slumping with relief or exhaustion, or both.

“Quick question,” Charles says, eyes darting to Jake and then back to Lena, “do you have a waiting list? And would it be presumptive to get on that waiting list before the child has been conceived?”

Jake stands up so quickly he pulls a small muscle in his back, and yanks Charles to his feet.

“Have a nice day, ma’am,” he says and hauls them both out the door.

+++

They get sent to a kid’s first birthday party in the afternoon, after a man who had been stabbed multiple times stumbled into the parents’ Greenpoint backyard. Fortunately none of the babies saw anything.

“You have to feel like the universe is sending you a message,” Charles says, after the paramedics have hauled the man away. He and Jake are following a blood trail, which starts at the sidewalk in front of the house and ends just beneath the pinata strung to a tree branch. Jake’s pretty sure 1-year-olds are too young to be swinging bats at pinatas, but he’s not a dad (yet), what does he know?

Jake takes off his sunglasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. He does actually feel like the universe or whatever is trying to tell him something, but he doesn’t know what. Behind him, he can hear children squealing and parents laughing, and then everyone starts singing “Happy Birthday.”

In a year and nine months, it might be his own kid’s first birthday. The image of it flashes before his eyes: A brown-haired baby with bright laughing eyes and a huge smile, chocolate cake smeared all over its face. Amy is crying a little, and Jake is too, and Charles makes them stand on either side of the high chair for a photo. Charles is, of course, bawling.

Jake realizes he’s smiling to himself and bites his lip to stop. He puts his sunglasses back on and turns to Charles, who is watching him expectantly, rocking back on his heels.

“It looks like the stabbing happened out front,” Jake says, wincing a little when Charles’ face falls. “We should start there.”

Later, the father of the birthday boy invites them to the party for cake, and they both politely decline. But when they’re alone again Charles says he knows of a place nearby that has a pork-and-beans cupcake he’s been dying to try and Jake opens his mouth to say yes, of course (even though -- no, absolutely not).

But he thinks about dodging Charles’ comments and questions about babies and biological clocks and fertility windows and he knows he’ll never survive.

“Sorry, bud. I’ve got plans.”

“Sure, okay,” Charles says, voice gone flat and horrible. “Some other time.”

+++

Jake’s standing at the kitchen counter wiping down his badge with Purell when Amy gets home that evening. She raises a questioning eyebrow but doesn’t actually ask what he’s doing.

They have salads for dinner because Amy read an article about fertility superfoods and apparently spinach and kale are the superest. When Jake doesn’t even raise a cursory protest, Amy asks him if he’s feeling okay.

“Yeah, fine,” Jake says, and stuffs a forkful of deep green spinach in his mouth. It tastes chalky and bitter and he swallows it down with grape soda (he’s trying to branch out a little).

Amy tells him about Gary’s latest accidental attempt at a coup among the beat cops -- “I know he doesn’t mean to undermine me, but he really needs to shut the f up about color-coding the weekend rotations” -- and Jake tells her about the not-missing kid from the morning and finding a man bleeding to death under a pinata.

They’re cleaning up together, Amy wiping down counters while Jake gets the dishwasher going, when Amy asks how it’s going with Charles. “He must have been losing it with all of those babies in the vicinity,” she says, and though she’s laughing a little Jake senses that she’s concerned.

“He was fine,” Jake says, and off Amy’s skeptical smirk, adds, “Okay, he was Charles.”

Amy tosses her sponge into the sink and rests a hip against the counter, and he can feel her gaze on the side of his face as he crouches over the dishwasher. He sets it running and then wipes off his hands on a towel and steps over to her. He loops his arms around her waist, tugging her to him, and kisses her, gently at first. When she hums against his lips he opens his mouth, tilts his head just so, and slides his tongue alongside hers. They make out for a while, Amy’s hands curling over his neck and his fingers reaching up under her shirt to stroke over her back.

Then the dishwasher gurgles loudly and they break apart, laughing.

“C’mon,” Jake says, letting go of her waist to grab her hand and pull her toward the bedroom. “I think it’s time for me to put some bludgers in your golden snitch.”

He hears Amy sigh behind him. “That’s not how Quidditch works, Jake.”

+++

Pimento, at least, takes Charles’ mind off of babies. It helps that they’ve gone more than 24 hours without a single child sighting.

Which is why Jake’s glad he’s alone in the main hospital waiting area when a couple emerges from an elevator. They’re young and their eyes are bruised with exhaustion and they both have the shell-shocked look that Jake usually associates with people who have just survived near-death experiences, but there’s a glow about them that he recognizes too. The man is holding a tiny pink bundle in his arms, and the woman keeps peeking over at them both, like she can’t help herself, like she can hardly stand to look anywhere else.

Jake’s heart is beating too-fast, because that will be him -- he’ll be the man with the bundle, the father taking his little girl or little boy home for the first time, and Amy will be right there too, and it’s going to be incredible.

And when they get home, after they’ve settled in a bit, Charles will bring them so much soup and so many casseroles and they’ll even eat most of it because they won’t have time to shop or cook for themselves. And Charles will take photos and change diapers when they both need a break, and he’ll tell Jake he’s doing great, he’s doing his best, and that’s all any kid needs, after all.

“We can go up and see him now,” Charles says, breaking into his thoughts. Jake jerks and looks away from the new family, just as they disappear out the main hospital doors.

“Huh?”

“Pimento, we can see him,” Charles says. “Are you ready?”

Jake thinks about that for a moment and then grins up at Charles and stands. “Yeah,” he says, “I’m ready.”

End Notes:

The title is from Feed the Beast (Bash Brothers, of course).

A note on the timeline: I THINK this fits with what we have so far from the season? I notice some people are thinking that a couple of months have passed since the first episode, but I’m going with this being Jake and Amy’s first round at baby-making. If I missed some canon detail, please let me know!

#b99 fic #jake/amy #jake and charles #jake peralta #amy santiago #charles boyle #missing scene #pimemento #babymaking!#jakes gonna be a great dad

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