He makes her feel like a kid again. He makes her forget the world, forget herself. Carefree. Light as air. No troubles. When they're running through the crowded streets and Jake's pulling her along by the hand she doesn't have a care in the world. She forgets that she's Amy Santiago and she has a stack of paper work waiting for her finish so she can hand them in on time next week. She forgets that she needs to go shopping for groceries and needs to buy some flowers for her mom's birthday in a couple days.

Amy always likes to get things done as soon as possible. If she puts things off when she has a deadline coming up it's always on the back of her mind until she completes the task and she can stop worrying about it. She's one of those people that always has a keen sense of the world always happening. Even when she's having the time of her life, she's always aware of expectations that she needs to fulfill later. The world is always happening. Life is always happening. It's not a bad thing. She's been that way her whole life, and she never realized there was a different way to be until she felt the absence of the world for the first time. Clear mind.

Jake makes her forget. He makes her forget about deadlines and worry, about responsibilities and anxiety. He made her forget herself for the most beautiful moments. The only thing that mattered was his hand in hers. They were the only things in existence. He stopped her mind from running and she was just a kid again, innocent and happy. He helped her leave the world behind like magic.

"Jake! Jake! You're going too fast!" Amy shouted through fits of laughter as they wove through the crowded summer streets. It was hot and muggy that day, and even in her sun dress she was sweating like crazy and begging for a cool breeze to pick up to make the heat a bit more bearable.

Despite her sweaty palms Jake was pulling her along no problem with a tight grip as he sprinted through the crowd, going too fast to even apologize to the people he pushed past. Amy couldn't even catch the dirty looks she knew they were getting by the bystanders who had to make room for two adults running around like total maniacs.

"No, you're going too slow," he turned his head back and grinned, but his long legs gave him an unfair advantage when it came to strides, not Amy Santiago going too slow. She set the record for the 400 meter dash in high school, still undefeated almost 15 years later. Jake Peralta, meanwhile, would probably take half an hour to run a mile and collapse dry heaving before he reached the finish line. His long legs and the sugar rush he undoubtedly had from all the candy he finished off ten minutes ago were the only reasons he was winning. The heat was also dragging her down, and she wasn't even wearing the proper footwear. In any other situation she would beat him without even trying, because she was faster than him dammit.

But this wasn't even a race. He was sprinting and tugging her along when he wouldn't answer where he was taking here.

"Where are we even going? I thought we were gonna watch the fireworks," Amy reminded him, struggling to be heard over the slap of her flip flops.

"We are. Hurry up! We're almost there!" Jake looked at her like she was dead weight slowing him down for whatever destination he was so impatient to reach.

Amy was just about a minute away from giving up and just stopping in the middle of the sidewalk in pure frustration at his secrecy (her feet were starting to hurt too since she wasn't planning on sprinting that day, which was her mistake for wearing flip flops on the hottest day of the summer yet). "If we're going to see the fireworks then why are we running in the opposite direction of where everyone is staring?"

"You'll see," he promised.

She was about to go into another protest when he stopped without warning and Amy slammed into him before she could slow down, in turn causing him to stumble forward from absorbing her momentum. She gave him an apologetic smile though it wasn't her fault at all when he was the guide and didn't give her any fair warning to stop sprinting at nothing.

"C'mon, in here."

Jake tilted his head at a small convenience store that was absolutely nothing special. Just a little mom and pop shop that had been there for a good 50 years by the looks of it (though she had never seen it before in her life). She couldn't figure out what was so important about this store that they couldn't buy anywhere else. It was lackluster at best, dingy at worst.

Jake went straight to the freezer section and pulled out two generic popsicles, handing her the orange one and taking a purple one for himself to pay for at the counter. Simple as that. He didn't grab a bunch of junk, or some specialty candy that they only sold here that would justify the trip. All he wanted was two regular popsicles, when they passed at least ten convenience stores on the way to get to this one.

Amy just stared at the 50 cent treat in utter disbelief that they came all the way here for a stupid popsicle. Not even the kind that had a colorful package with fun sounding names. Just a transparent packaging that probably came in a huge box not meant for individual sale.

"The fireworks start in five minutes. We had the best view with none of the buildings blocking our way. And now we're a mile away and I know somebody stole our spot, and we came here for popsicles? These better be magic for all this effort," she griped with shoulders slumped in defeat, since she already knew the answer. These popsicles weren't made of magic. They were made of disappointment. Hot, sweaty disappointment.

"Nope. Just regular popsicles," Jake grinned like he did something he was proud of. Amy dragged her feet through the store and banged her head on his back as he pulled out the coins to pay for the popsicles (just because they were cheap was no excuse. She would rather have popsicles that cost two dollars a pop if it meant that they would still be in the seat she scouted out before hand for the show). She banged her head on him through the whole transaction with the cashier groaning like a zombie for wasting all this time.

"Stop that. You're being so immature right now," Jake scolded her, holding her head at bay, like he had any right to lecture her about immaturity. "Besides, we're not here for the popsicles."

"Really?" She perked up at the good news.

Wordlessly (his mouth was occupied in an epic struggle to tear open the package with his teeth) he led her to a door at the back of the store that opened to a stairwell that seemingly headed to nowhere. The stairs were encased in what would probably look like a brick tower from the outside that winded up and up without end, but from the inside it was just musty and dim (and full of dust). It was almost creepy, but she was far too intrigued to stop now. So she followed him. Really, she would follow him anywhere. Even if they ended up taking the long way 'round, he never led her astray.

Metaphorically speaking, of course. Jake swore he knew all these shortcuts when they were driving, but she refused to listen to his directions after so many times of him getting them lost or making them late to wherever they had to be. His sense of direction was frustrating as hell. In the life metaphor, the journey with Jake Peralta was worth it.

Just like the dusty stairwell was worth it. Jake shouldered open the heavy door at the top to reveal a beautiful open skyline painted orange by the setting sun, utterly breathtaking. She didn't hesitate rushing to the edge of the roof to peer down at all the busy people milling around on the streets below, sidewalks crowded with thumbtack people like paintings of New York that got printed into puzzles and flimsy postcards.

"This is the best view," Jake said from behind her, leaning forward to kiss her cheek and wrapping his arms around her. "Before was pretty good with nothing blocking our line of sight, but now we don't even have any buildings in our peripheral vision. Worth it?"

It was a rhetorical question, because without a doubt this view was worth anything, and he knew it.

Amy exhaled pure wonder as they stood on that rooftop, the whole world below them. In their own little world, the old one left behind for a bit as they just existed in the perfect moment.

Until she felt something drip on her shoulder and she realized that his grape popsicle (that he was holding with his mouth) was melting on her. Hot and sweaty was manageable. Hot, sweaty, and sticky, not so much.

"Oh gross, Jake. You're dripping on me," she grimaced. He wiped off her shoulder with his shirt, but she decided to step away from his embrace and sit down on the edge of the roof instead of risking more popsicle run off. Jake didn't waste any time settling in beside her, swinging his legs over to dangle them off the edge of the building. She grabbed his hand just to be safe (he wasn't sitting that close to the edge, but better to be safe than sorry). It wasn't like she needed an excuse to hold his hand anyway.

"You look like a sunset today," he said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Your dress. It makes you look sunset," he explained with a goofy smile, and god she loved his smile. She loved everything about him. Loved kissing him. Loved the way he looked at her in her pale yellow dress like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

She loved holding his hand. Loved how his fingers fit perfectly with hers. His hand was made to hold hers.

She twisted his wedding ring around his finger, their ring on his finger, the one that matched hers, and she knew nothing could get better than this.

Nothing could get better than running through the streets in the heat of summer without a care in the world. Nothing could be better than the happiness she had every day with him. Nothing could be better than the effortless and breathless laughter as she forgot every worry in the world.

Her husband was the only one who could make her feel like a kid again.

"You know, people don't do this," she sighed with her head on his shoulder. The sky was still fading into twilight and it wasn't dark enough just yet for the burst of colors and sparks, but the night sky was a beauty all on its own.

"Don't do what?"

"Normal people don't do stuff like this. Adults. They don't go running through the streets hand in hand to buy 50 cent popsicles and watch fireworks on some random rooftop. Normal people don't even try, or want to. Normal people are busy and stressed. They fantasize about maybe just running away for a day and getting lost, but no one ever does it. Authors write novels about normal people who go on a big adventure, make a movie about spontaneous road trips and learning how to have fun, magic nights around a campfire, but it's just an escape for the audience. We get to watch people have adventures and it all works out for the characters cause all it is is an escape. We get to watch people escape for a bit and pretend it's us, cause in the real world that's the closest we can get to magic. Normal people don't go on adventures. Normal people don't do this, Jake. And neither would I if I didn't have you. Thanks for taking me on adventures. Thanks for giving me a bit of magic in my life."

She kissed him at the end of her impromptu speech and after all these years she still gets butterflies when their lips connect. A warmth still fills her bones that traveled from her head to her toes when he pulled her closer. When she sees his smile she still knows it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. Much better than a sunset, and better than any fireworks.

"Thanks for coming along for the ride," he grinned wide enough to break his face. They smiled at each other in silence like nervous, love struck school kids before the first boom of the fireworks broke out and red sparks scattered across the sky.

It really was the best view. Watching the colors fly and explode in the wide open night air was something magical all on its own.

Amy wrapped her arm around his waist and settled her head on his shoulder to get comfy for the rest of the light show.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

AN: I know the title is kinda weird, but I just like it. It's not a quote or anything, not inspired by something or another. It's totally original. I just put that string of words together and I liked it. I just like the imagery I thought it created of running hand in hand with someone during a heatwave, and even though it's 105 degrees out and you're sweating like crazy you don't dare let go of that person's hand. Any other situation you'd probably be grossed out by sweaty hands, but when you're laughing with someone you love it doesn't matter at all. Plus, you and the other person are both contributing to the sweaty hands situation. Sweaty hands are only a problem if one person's hands are sweaty when the other person's hands are decidedly dry in a situation that sweat is unexpected. Running in the summer with your significant other is a whole 'nother ball park.