A/N: this is my first brooklyn nine nine fic, i just love the show so much and amy and jake are killing me. I hope you enjoy this and i would love any feedback you have!

i.

Amy Santiago has had to deal with her fair share of idiots throughout her life – being a detective, it often comes with the territory.

But usually it's the perps who get on her nerves. She never expected that she would be partnered with someone quite as immaturely idiotic as Jake Peralta. The day they met, she remembers thinking that someone was playing a prank on her. Surely, this man-child was not an actual detective?

Of course, she later went on to find out that he is in fact a detective and is actually quite good at it, too. Not that she'd ever admit that to him. He's cocky enough already.

That was a while ago now, though. Amy's known Jake long enough to realise that he's more childish than any adult should be and that's something that isn't about to change any time soon.

So she shouldn't really be surprised when she's sitting in a fancy restaurant across from a gorgeous, green-eyed hunk and Jake suddenly appears out of nowhere. Mason, her date, continues talking obviously about his Aunt's shoe-making business but Amy isn't paying attention; she is looking over his head to where Jake is lurking. He's wearing a shirt and tie and a pair of glasses – although she can't figure out why.

Amy blinks a few times, checking that she's not seeing things. Nope, that is actually Jake Peralta. And he's heading over to her table. She sends a silent prayer that he isn't stopping but, naturally, it isn't granted.

" –so I would help her out on the weekends," Mason finishes enthusiastically. Amy nods eagerly as if she had been listening, although she isn't entirely sure what he's talking about anymore. Jake is getting closer. What the hell is he doing? Amy feels her heart rate begin to pick up. She's sweating.

"Good evening," Jake greets as he arrives at Amy and Mason's table, giving Amy a knowing smirk.

She scowls at him.

"What are you doing here?" Amy snaps.

"I need to talk to you –"

"Well I'm kind of busy, as you can see," she gestures to Mason impatiently.

"Amy, who's this?" Mason asks in confusion.

"I'm Jake Peralta, Amy's doctor," Jake explains casually.

"No he's n –"

"I apologise for interrupting dinner with your father but this is urgent."

Amy's mouth falls open. She knows that he is trying to wind her up but she can't help herself from getting mad anyway.

"He is not my –"

"Your test results came back and I thought you would want them as soon as possible," Jake presses on; his expression serious but his eyes are dancing with amusement.

"Test results?" Mason repeats sounding worried. "Amy, you never said."

Every time Amy tries to explain, Jake interrupts her. She wants to throttle him.

"I don't –"

"It's bad news, I'm afraid," Jake concludes. "The venereal disease you were worried about… I'm afraid you do have it after all."

Amy chokes on her breath and Mason's eyes bulge open.

"V-venereal disease?" Mason echoes.

"Syphilis to be exact," Jake clarifies, struggling to hide his smile.

Amy chokes again; so hard she starts to cough.

"What the hell?" she manages to splutter out.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" Mason exclaims looking hurt.

"I didn't – I don't –"

Amy can barely speak.

"I'm sorry but I think I'm going to leave," Mason decides, promptly getting to his feet.

"No, don't leave –"

"Have you two already had intercourse?" Jake inquires.

"No," Mason says. "This was our first date."

Jake wipes his brow, pretending to be relieved.

"Well thank God for that. I wouldn't go anywhere near her downstairs if I were you," he advises Mason, nodding at Amy. "Nasty things are going on down there."

Mason shudders and turns on his heel, practically running out of the restaurant.

"Mason, please!" Amy gets to her feet and calls after him but he doesn't even turn around. She stands and watches him go, still in a state of shock.

Then she hears Jake trying to muffle his laughter and it brings her right back to reality.

"What the hell was that you son of a bitch?" Amy yells, shoving him as hard as she can.

A few people sitting around them turn to stare.

"You should have – seen your face," Jake chokes in between guffaws of laughter.

"I was on a date!" Amy's voice cracks as she tries to stop herself from screaming.

"I know," Jake snickers. "Why do you think I did it?"

"Is it your life mission to make me miserable or something?" she demands.

Jake sighs.

"Cool it, Santiago," he says, still seeming thoroughly entertained by his prank. "It was just a joke."

Amy grabs her purse and shoves her chair aside, fuming. She can't believe here date has been completely ruined. She just wants to go home.

"Hey, wait," Jake grabs her arm; she shakes him off.

"What?" she growls.

"Well, I was thinking," Jake shrugs, "since you have this table reserved we may as well stay and have dinner –"

Amy throws her hands in the air in utter exasperation, turning and storming away from him.

"In your dreams Peralta."

She turns back to shoot him a death stare as she leaves.

He's still laughing.

ii.

Amy sits with her back straight against her chair and her eyes alert. She's in the briefing room with the rest of the Nine-Nine, paying close attention as Captain Holt works his way through the morning bulletin and gives them all a run-down of the cases that are the most pressing this week.

"Santiago," the Captain addresses her in his deep voice, which reeks with authority.

"Yes, sir?" Amy answers, raising her eyebrows inquisitively and sitting up straighter.

"You're working the drug crew case –"

"I already have more than one lead that I have lots of faith in," she informs him, adding, "I'm all ready to solve this thing!" pumping a fist into the air to seem eager.

She sees Jake out of the corner of her eye, laughing under his breath at her. She ignores him.

"I'll get the guy eventually," she finishes.

"Story of Santiago's life," she hears Jake mutter behind her, much to the his own amusement.

"Good," the Captain continues, obliviously. "Detective Boyle, what case are you up to?"

"There was a robbery down on Second Street," Boyle replies, perky as ever. "Jake and I are going to check it out."

The Captain gives a look of approval, moving onto his next topic of conversation. Amy pays close attention, ensuring that she nods every now and then to show that she's listening.

It's only a moment or so later that she feels a repetitive nudge on the back of her chair; gentle at first but gradually turning into something far more irritating. She turns around in her seat, frowning, only to find – no surprises there – Jake Peralta kicking her chair leg under the table.

"Will you cut that out?" she hisses to him.

"Cut what out?" Jake replies blissfully, grinning to himself.

Amy forces herself to take a deep breath and ignore him. There's no point retaliating, she knows that. But the smug look on his face makes it so much harder for her to ignore.

Heaving out a sigh, Amy turns back to face the Captain, listening to him instead of giving Peralta any of her attention. Jake only kicks harder, until the feet on the legs of the chair squeak slightly against the vinyl flooring. Some of the detectives sitting around her turn their heads, making Amy clear her throat in embarrassment and swallow. She can hear Jake chuckling behind her and it takes all her energy not to snap at him.

After the Captain has finished his talk, the detectives push out of their chairs and begin to shuffle out of the room. Amy leaves the room as soon as possible, eager to get to work as ever. She still feels slightly irritated that Jake manages to undermine her at every possible opportunity, though.

As she walks past his cluttered desk (seriously, how does he find anything amongst all the candy wrappers and dishevelled stacks of paper?), Amy notices that one of Jake's favourite foods is laid out on the table ready for him. Gummy bears wrapped in a fruit roll-up. Or in Jake Peralta terms: a 'breakfast burrito'.

She narrows her eyes as she assesses the abandoned snack and, making sure that Jake is not around, quickly scoops it up in her hand and tosses it in the bin in the corner of the room. Feeling pleased that she's managed to get at least a little payback for all the crap he gives her, Amy sits down at her own (much more organised) desk, tucking her chair under the table and taking a breath. Right. She has a lot to get through today.

Of course, she doesn't even get a chance to get started on sorting through her paperwork before Jake reappears in the room, grinning as usual and sauntering over to where Amy is sitting.

"Lots of work to get on with today, Santiago?" he calls teasingly.

"Yes, thank you," she replies in a clipped voice. "More than you ever seem to do anyway."

"Excuse me?" Jake answers, pretending to be offended. "Why are you in such a bad mood this morning?"

"I –" she huffs out a breath as she realises that she is a little snappy this morning. "I didn't sleep very well."

"What happened? Were you up all night reading Wuthering Heights?" Jake teases.

Amy groans at his terrible jokes, returning her attention to her work. Jake is about to sit down at his desk when he notices that something has changed since he was last here. One of his eyebrows raises in confusion.

"Hey," he cries, "what happened to my burrito?"

Boyle comes over to see what the fuss is all about.

"What's wrong, Jakey?"

"My breakfast burrito! It's gone!"

"Oh," Boyle nods. "Amy threw it in the trash."

"What?!" Jake exclaims in disbelief.

"Boyle!" Amy sighs, irritated.

Jake marches over to the bin and stares down at it in horror when he sees the remains of his ridiculous excuse for a breakfast, most of which has spilled out and been ruined.

"What the hell, Santiago?!" he yells, throwing his arms into the air in complete exasperation.

"You shouldn't have left it lying around," Amy shrugs, biting down on her lip to stop herself from smiling. "Maybe you'll learn to respect me a little more from now on," she suggests.

Jake only glares at her, not seeming like he has any interest in taking her advice.

"Oh no, Santiago. You started this. Now it is on."

iii.

Amy smiles falsely through gritted teeth at the people who surround her, attempting to hide her irritation and blend in.

"Oh, sorry," a short stout man apologises as he bumps into her, pausing when he sees her face. "Oh! You must be Hope! Right? Rex's lady? He's been telling me all about you!"

Amy stifles a groan and struggles to stop herself from frowning. Going undercover to solve a case can sometimes be fun – playing someone completely different to who she usually is. But when she is forced to spend the night pretending to be Jake's wife Hope while Peralta plays one of his many alter-egos 'Rex Buckingham', who unfortunately isn't any less irritating than plain old Jake, it can get a little tiresome.

"Ri-ight. That's me," she says slowly, pursing her lips. "Rex's lady."

Before she can ask for the name of the gentleman who she is speaking to, Amy hears Jake's loud guffawing laughter and, sure enough, in the next second he is grabbing her arm and pulling her close to him.

"Hope!" he exclaims, almost convincingly. Amy sighs. "I've been looking all over for you."

As soon as he arrives, Jake kisses Amy loudly on the cheek and nudges her. "Baby, where have you been?"

Amy feels her cheeks heating up, the warmth from Jake's lips still lingering on her face. Ew. Why did he have to do that? She knows that they have to stick to their identities in order to be believable but he seems to be taking advantage of the fact that Hope and Rex married to purposefully embarrass her.

"Just, you know, around," she mumbles in answer to his question, trying to forget the fact that he just kissed her. You are not Amy Santiago. You are Hope Buckingham. This is your husband. Get it together.

"I see you've met Lord Thompson," Jake continues. "Lord Thompson, this is my wife, Hope." He lowers his voice and adds in a whisper, "and yes, she's as good in bed as she looks."

Amy chokes, attempting to cover it up with a series of coughs.

Thompson just laughs, asking, "is that really something you should be telling me?"

"I just want everyone to know how saucy my little love-monkey is," Jake assures him, sounding very pleased with himself.

"Rex, please shut up," she snarls under her breath.

She and Jake been trying to blend into the classy setting that they've been forced into; Amy has on a floor length dress and black heels which make her even more nervous because she can't particularly run in them. Jake has thrown on a blazer with a white shirt that, to Amy's surprise, actually looks clean. She can't even see any holes in it.

Jake shoots Amy a subtle look that she narrows her eyes at. "Lord Thompson," Jake repeats, stressing his name, "is one of the wealthiest people in the room."

Amy catches onto his tone immediately. Her eyes widen. They had decided to split up almost as soon as they entered the room to talk to as many people as possible. Unfortunately, they have no idea what the guy they're looking for, who has been embezzling money from his family company, looks like. The only information that they have is that he is some kind of affluent aristocrat. Does Jake think this the guy they've been looking for?

"He is?" Amy asks, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I was trying to find you earlier to tell you about it," he murmurs. Then he turns his attention to the rounded Lord standing before them, the buttons of Thompson's crinkled blue shirt widening around his stomach. "You were telling me about your fortune before."

"I know it makes me seem a little boastful," Thompson replies, shrugging his shoulders, "and people sometimes get jealous. But you don't seem like one of those people, Rex. I can tell from looking at you that you're an eager businessman."

Amy scoffs under her breath, wondering what crap Jake has been spewing to him.

"Well," Jake waves a hand dismissively at Thompson's comment.

"So how did you make your millions, exactly?" Amy jumps in. "If you don't mind me asking."

A flash of suspicion on Thompson's face makes her wish she hadn't said anything but Jake is quick to reassure him.

"Now, now honey," he smiles, wrapping his arm around Amy's waist and pulling her closer to him. "What have I told you about being nosy?"

Amy swallows her irritation and bites back an insult, instead faking a smile (although she's worried it comes out as more of a grimace).

"Sorry, sweetie," she replies, a hint of acidity seeping into her tone. "You know me. I just like to get to the bottom of things."

Jake squeezes her again, making her squeak.

"That's one of the things I love about you."

Thompson just chuckles at the minor exchange, oblivious to the anger radiating off of Amy and the childish entertainment coming from Jake.

"I'll let you into a little secret," Thompson smirks, lowering his voice, "because you seem like the kind of man who'd understand."

"Oh?" Jake prompts.

"You know, what with the company I own being so big… nobody ever notices when small sums of money go missing… if you know what I mean?" he winks.

"Are you in inferring that you… steal the money?" Jake encourages.

"Well, stealing is a strong word. I like to think of it more like borrowing. Without ever replacing."

"So you take money without replacing it," Amy finishes, nodding at Jake.

"Boom!" Jake cries out triumphantly, pumping his fist into the air. "That was exactly what I was hoping you would say." He reaches into his hidden holster under his belt and pulls out a pair of handcuffs, securing them around Lord Thompson's chubby writs. "NYPD, you're under arrest for embezzlement. We're cops, moron!"

Amy can't help biting her lip and smiling slightly at the pure joy in Jake's voice. She reaches under her dress and pulls the tape recorder out from where it is tucked away under her garter. She waves it in front of his face mockingly, laughing when she sees his bewildered expression and Jake's wide grin.

"You just got Peralta-ed! Suck it!" Jake only smiles wider when he notices Amy rolling her eyes. "You've got to admit, you were a tiny bit attracted to Rex Buckingham, the super-spy stroke businessman."

Amy shakes her head in amusement and says nothing.

iv.

It's somewhere between two and three in the morning on a Friday night; Amy is lying awake in bed staring at the ceiling in the darkness of her room when her phone starts to buzz beside her. She reaches over, groaning, and squints at the caller ID.

Incoming call from Jake Peralta.

Half of her wants to sigh; the other half wants to smile. What does he want?

"Peralta?" she snaps, answering the call.

"Santiago!" he exclaims in a sing-song down the line. "I can't believe you answered! I thought you would have been in bed by nine."

His words slur together slightly and there's a hum of background noise that she can't quite place.

"Are you drunk? Where are you?"

"I wanted to see yo-oo-ou," he drawls, extending the word 'you' for so long it almost makes her laugh.

"Why?"

"Because. You're my partner." Jake pauses for a second and then snorts with laughter. "Partner. That makes us sound like we're ma-aa-aarried. Oh my God, can you imagine if I was married you? We would probably knit doilies and play scrabble every night and go to bed so early and eat salad all the time and have no fun at all and –"

Amy stops listening to his stupid list as she hears a pounding on the front door of her apartment. She frowns, wondering who would be calling round at this time of night.

"Peralta, I've got to get the door, hold on."

She takes a few steps down the hallway, where the knocking is becoming more persistent and loud, when Jake's list draws to a close and he seems to notice what she just said.

"But it's me! It's me at the door. I came to see you!"

He sounds so ridiculously excited but Amy just shakes her head.

"Are you kidding me?!" she barks at him, finally getting to the front door and thrusting it open.

Jake stands right outside as promised, leaning against the doorframe unsteadily with his phone in his hand. His hair is a mess and his eyes are half closed like he's going to pass out any moment

"Santiago!" Jake bellows as he steps over the threshold and tries to grab her into a hug. Amy just bats his hands away. "Nice shorts."

Amy looks down, only just noticing that she has nothing more on than the oversized T-shirt and shorts that she was wearing to bed. She ignores his comment despite blushing slightly.

"What are you doing here?" she hisses. "And keep it down, I have neighbours!"

"I told you, like, a hundred times already. I just wanted to see you," Jake mumbles, staggering down the hallway and into Amy's living room.

She follows him and watches as he collapses down on the couch, face down.

"I was at the bar and everyone had left and I was bored and lonely," he begins, his voice muffled by the couch cushions, "and I kept getting more drinks and thinking I should stop soon. Then I realised Amy never comes to the bar with us." He's speaking to fast it's hard to keep up. "And then I was thinking, Amy says loads of funny stuff and it's fun to mock her so she should come more and we would have a better time." Amy shakes her head silently. "And then I thought – I should go over to Amy's! Because Amy always cheers me up when I am bored and lonely even though she doesn't mean to and doesn't even realise she's doing it. And now I'm here."

A couple of beats of silence follow.

"I cheer you up?" she asks, unable to stop herself from feeling slightly flattered.

"Yeah. I told you, it's fun to mock you."

Amy quickly loses her smile.

"Right. Whatever."

Jake notices the minor annoyance in her tone and pushes himself to his feet.

"Don't get offended!" he slurs, tripping towards her. "It is fun to mock you. But you're also kind of nice." He stays quiet for a second, staring at Amy intently. "Your hair looks pretty," he finally adds.

Amy does a double take, not expecting for a second that he would comment on her hair. It's thrown up in a messy bun which is how she usually wears it to bed. She raises her eyebrows accusingly.

"Are you mocking me again?"

"Nooo! No, no no, I wasn't mocking you! Jeez, so sensitive. I'm being see-eerious. I like it like that."

Amy sniffs at him hesitantly.

"Really?"

"Yeah! You should wear it like that to the Nine-Nine! Then all the perps will fall madly in love with you." He tries to wink at her but ends up just blinking repeatedly due to his intoxication and impaired motor skills. Amy tries to – unsuccessfully – hide her laugh.

"O-kay. Well, thanks, I guess."

"I thought you would look super lame in your old lady pyjamas," he carries on, taking a breath in between each word so the sentence takes three times as long as it should. "But you don't. You look cute. Kind of dorky, but still. Cute."

Amy can definitely feel herself blushing self-consciously no matter how hard she tries to stop it.

"Why are you saying this?"

Jake just shrugs.

"I like you."

"You… like me?" she repeats, dumbfounded.

"Sure I do. You're my partner."

Partner. As in work colleague. Amy feels a small pang of – what? Disappointment? Snap out of it! she orders herself. This is Jake Peralta we're talking about. Of course he only sees you as his partner. That's all you are.

Suddenly, Jake stretches and groans, seeming unsteady on his feet.

"I'm tired," he moans.

"You can't stay here tonight."

He pouts dejectedly.

"No, Peralta! Absolutely not! You can't! I'll call you a cab. Sit down and wait for me there," she instructs pointing at the armchair nearest to him.

Amy grabs her phone from her bedroom and dials the closest cab company that she knows, asking them to come as soon as possible. Then she quickly shuts the door and changes into some jeans and a T-shirt so that she looks at least marginally presentable.

"The cab's coming," she announces, walking back into her living room where Jake hasn't moved from his spot on the overstuffed chair. "Come on, time for you to go home."

"But I want to stay heeeeeeere," he complains.

"Well you can't!" she huffs, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him to his feet.

Thankfully, his drunken state means that he's unable to fight back, so it's relatively easy to pull him towards the front door. Amy grabs his cell phone on the way out, which he'd left on the windowsill, as well as her purse.

It's harder to lead him down the stairs of her apartment without him falling over than she had anticipated but she manages eventually, shoving him out the front door of the building and into the street. The night is colder than she thought and she ends up shivering.

"Look, the cab's here!" she says excitedly, walking over to where the yellow taxi is idling at the side of the road as quickly as she can, with Peralta in tow.

As soon as she approaches it, she opens the back door and points inside. Thankfully, Jake does as he's told, sitting down on the worn leather seats. Unfortunately, as soon as he does so, he then tries to grab her and pull her into the car with him.

"Jake, stop! What are you doing?"

"I want you to come with mee," he frowns.

Amy feels the corners of her mouth tugging upwards slightly.

"Look, you're smiling!" Jake cries. "That means you want to come!"

"No it doesn't!" Amy defends. "You've got to go home and sober up. Alone."

Jake still looks disappointed but doesn't say anything else.

"Night, Peralta," she says in amusement, shutting the car door behind her.

Amy walks over to the cab driver who has his window rolled down.

"Is he alright?" the cabbie asks sceptically.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," she assures him. Amy then tells the driver Jake's address and hands over as much money as she hopes will cover the journey.

"Just do me a favour and make sure he gets in safely," she requests.

The cabbie glances between Jake slumped in the back and Amy's expression of concern and sighs.

"I'll see what I can do," he nods.

"Thanks."

As the cab pulls away from the curb, Amy sees Jake waving at her through the window. She laughs under her breath and waves back, wondering just how much of tonight he'll actually remember.

v.

The precinct elevator doors open and Amy promptly steps inside. She is heading down to the basement of the precinct where she needs to have a look at the evidence lockup one more time before she gets to the bottom of her drug crew case.

Suddenly, Jake appears in front of her, grabbing the door just before it closes and grinning.

"Hey," Jake greets her cheerily as the doors slowly slide shut.

Perfect, Amy thinks as she reaches over to push the button that will direct them to the basement.

"Weren't you wearing that shirt yesterday?" she asks him in response, wrinkling her nose.

"How's the drug bust coming along?" he carries on, ignoring her comment.

"Very well," Amy answers, sure of herself. "Just a bit more work and I'll be closing it."

"Impressive." Jake turns to her, "but you weren't the one who just solved the case of the three missing old people, were you?"

Amy stares at him in confusion.

"I'm sorry, what? Missing old people?"

"Yeah, didn't you hear about it? These three pensioners escaped from their retirement home – and guess who found them? Me. That's right. Your awesome detective partner! Up top," he grins holding his hand up for a high five which Amy completely ignores until he drops it.

"Do you really think that's a more important case than the one I'm working on?" she questions him tiredly.

"Well –" Jake begins to argue with her but before he can get the words out, the elevator shakes and the lights flicker. There's a loud clonk and the elevator compartment stops moving abruptly.

They stand in silence for a second.

"What the hell just happened?" Amy asks in a whisper, her eyes wide and concerned.

"Uh… it would appear that we have stopped moving," Jake shrugs.

"I can see that you moron! Why did we stop? What happened? Oh my God."

"Just chill out," Jake orders, shaking his head at Amy's panicking. But she can't help it. She's never been stuck in an elevator before. "Let me see if I can start it moving again."

Before Amy can ask what exactly Jake means by his vague proposal, he starts jumping up and down on the elevator floor, putting all of his weight into his landing.

"Peralta –!" Amy tries to stop him but, as predicted, he takes absolutely no notice.

Just as his feet re-touch the ground, the elevator groans audibly, shuddering down a few more inches and then getting stuck again.

"Stop jumping!" Amy commands him. "You're going to break it!"

"Duh," Jake replies, rolling his eyes, "it's already broken."

With a deep sigh, Amy slaps her palm to her forehead and tries to calm herself down.

"What are we going to do? We're stuck here."

"I'll call the office," Jake decides, gesturing to the floor above them where their friends are all still working obliviously. However, after pulling his phone from his pocket a frown etches its way onto his face.

"What?" Amy demands.

"I have no reception down here."

"Dammit," she mutters, grabbing her own cell phone and looking at the screen. "I have one bar!" she exclaims with excitement.

"Great!" Jake cries. "Quick, call them before it goes!"

Amy nods, quickly digging into her contact list and calling one of the phones that lies upstairs. It connects, thank goodness, and she waits listening to the dial tone with an expression of horror.

"NYPD, what?" a voice answers sounding vaguely irritated.

"Rosa? Thank God! It's me, Amy," she explains quickly. "Jake and I are in the lift but it's stuck halfway between the ground floor and the basement. Can you tell Holt?"

"Sure. Hold on."

The line goes quiet.

"Rosa's telling Holt," Amy mouths to Jake who is watching expectantly from beside her. A few moments later, Rosa returns to the phone, her tone unchanged.

"He says he'll call the fire brigade."

"Okay. Thanks, you're a lifesaver!"

Amy hangs up the phone, turning to Jake in relief.

"They're phoning the Fire Department," she tells him.

Instead of seeming pleased though, Jake lets out a low groan.

"What? No! You know I hate those guys!" Jake barks.

"You do?"

"Have you ever met Fire Marshall Boone? His head is so far up his own butt."

Amy can't help laughing a little at Jake's description.

"Come on, they're not that bad."

Jake glares at her.

"They're complete jackasses! They think they're so much better than all of us here."

"Well," she sighs, "someone's got to get us out of here. It doesn't look like this elevator is going to miraculously start working again."

Jake scowls but doesn't add anything else. She stays quiet, crossing her arms across her chest and tapping her foot impatiently. She still can't quite believe her luck. As if being stuck in a lift wasn't bad enough; she's stuck in here with Jake Peralta of all people.

Amy's phone vibrates in her hand which makes her jump. She sees that it's Captain Holt phoning and quickly hits the answer button.

"Sir?"

"Santiago. We've called the Fire Department. But unfortunately there's been a huge fire down at the Brooklyn Mall and almost all of the Marshalls are on call. They have said they won't be able to get here for at least thirty minutes. Maybe even an hour."

Amy's jaw drops. She can't help it.

"An hour?" she parrots, her voice raising a few octaves in horror. Jake's eyes snap up to her when he hears the dread in her voice. "I can't stay in here for an hour! There's got to be someone else who can get us out! I mean, what if –"

"I'm afraid this is your only option." Holt pauses for a second. "I hear Peralta is down there with you?"

"Yes," Amy answers dejectedly.

"Well. Help is on its way. Remain calm and phone me if you have anything to report."

Amy is tempted to throw her phone down onto the ground and step on it. Why isn't anyone else freaking out? She doesn't want to be stuck down here!

But, of course, she forces herself to remain professional, despite her tone being blatantly infuriated.

"Right. Thank you, sir."

And she hangs up the phone.

"So, what?" Jake pesters her the second she removes her cell from her ear and tucks it back in her pocket. "They're not coming for an hour? Is that what you're saying?"

"It looks that way."

Jake grins widely, seeming pleased with the situation for some reason.

"Something amusing you?" Amy snaps at him.

"Yeah. You're stuck down here with me until further notice. That's gotta be, like, one of your worst nightmares, right?"

Amy glares.

"Well I'm glad this is all so entertaining for you," she says in response.

"I was just kidding," Jake defends, bending down and sitting cross legged on the floor of the elevator. "But come on, it's not the end of the world."

Amy arches an eyebrow.

"Some of us actually had work to do."

"Harsh," Jake comments.

A second or two of quiet passes but Amy knows that it won't last. Jake reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small packet of fizzy candy, ripping it open and throwing some into his mouth.

"Want some?" he offers through his noisy mouthful.

"No thanks," Amy responds. "I'd actually like to keep my teeth until old age."

Jake rolls his eyes.

"A bit of candy isn't going to make your teeth fall out."

"Yes but it's all you ever seem to eat! Seriously, why are you even carrying that around with you?"

Jake shrugs as if that's a stupid question.

"In case I get hungry."

"Have you ever tried snacking on something like, I don't know, an apple maybe?"

Jake snorts with laughter and shakes his head.

"I thought you knew me better than that, Santiago."

She takes a deep breath and exhales. The sugary smell is making her feel faintly sick.

"Why don't we play a game to pass the time?" Jake proposes, still sounding chirpy despite the circumstances.

Amy is about to growl a definite no, but then she catches herself and comes up with a better reply.

"Okay, fine. Here's a game. I'll list the top five things that I dislike about you," she declares as a suggestion, pressing on with her list before he can get a word in. "You're the messiest person I know," she starts, holding a finger up on her hand with each statement she gives. "You take pleasure in making other people's lives miserable." Another finger goes up. "You are more immature than any other grown man I've ever come across." Third finger. "You undermine everything I say. You don't take anything seriously." She holds up five fingers to signify that she's finished.

Jake seems speechless for a moment.

"I can go on if you want me to," Amy offers.

"There's no need to be mean," Jake finally reacts. "But fine, if that's the game you want to play. I'll list the top five things I dislike about you."

Amy shrugs, "go ahead."

"Fine. You're uptight, you don't know how to have fun, you have absolutely no life outside of your work, you think you're better than everyone else, you always get mad for no reason, you are nowhere near as awesome as me, you –"

"Alright, alright, that's more than five," Amy cuts him off feeling slightly wounded – although she's not completely sure why Jake Peralta's opinion means anything to her.

Jake smiles, seeming satisfied that he's annoyed her. He stares up at where Amy stands with her arms crossed, frowning at the ground. "Are you just going to stand there?"

"Yes."

"Sit down," he suggests.

"There is no way I am sitting on this floor. Look at it," Amy gestures around her, "there's crap all over it. You have absolutely no idea what's been on here. For all you know someone –"

"Jeez, Santiago, I knew you were OCD but seriously, you need to lighten up. You're not going to catch some life-threatening illness by sitting down in an elevator."

Amy says nothing, continuing to assess the floor beneath her. It looks disgusting.

"Here, what about this?" Jake murmurs, reaching behind him and pulling his jacket off. He holds it up, handing it to Amy.

She takes it gingerly, puzzled.

"What?"

"You can sit on it," Jake encourages, "and then you won't have to directly touch the floor. There. Problem solved."

Amy considers denying his offer and handing it straight back but then she thinks again. If they are going to be stuck in here for an hour, she doesn't particularly want to spend the whole time standing up.

"Alright," she answers, laying the jacket down on the floor and carefully sitting down on it so that she's eyelevel with Jake. "Thanks."

Jake mock salutes her.

"I'm not OCD, by the way," she mutters in reply to his earlier comment.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm not!"

"You are the most insanely organised person I know," Jake argues.

"Being organised doesn't make me OCD, it just means that I don't like living surrounded by chaos unlike you."

Jake blinks at her.

"I don't know if that was supposed to be an insult but either way, I'm not at all offended."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Amy is aware of how snarky she sounds but she can't help it. Peralta somehow manages to wind her up every time they're together.

"Okay, how about another game –" Jake begins.

"No," Amy cuts him off.

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with –"

"No more games,"

Jake just pouts.

"You're no fun to be stuck in a lift with. If I was down here with Boyle –"

"You'd have to listen to him go on about his favourite new restaurants and what foods give him the best 'mouth feel'," she finishes.

Jake laughs, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, fair enough. But at least he'd play games with me."

"I did play a game with you," Amy reasons. "It's not my fault if you didn't like it."

"For someone who works with the public for a living," Jake notes, "you can be really mean."

Amy brushes off his comment. She's not mean, not really. She just can't help getting agitated whenever Jake is around. She takes a breath and checks her watch to see if an hour has passed yet. No such luck.

All of a sudden, the panelled fluorescent lights that are illuminating the elevator compartment begin to flicker. Both Amy and Jake look up immediately, hoping that it's nothing.

A couple more flickers and the overhead lights go out entirely. The elevator isn't pitch black; it's light enough for Amy to see Peralta blinking in shock, but dark enough for her to feel even more freaked out than she was before.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Amy wails, bringing her knees up to her chest and pressing her face into her hands.

"It's just a blown light," Jake tries to reason with her.

She doesn't respond.

"I bet you never thought this would happen," Jake speculates, his voice faintly hopeful as if he's trying to cheer Amy up. "You and me in a dark room together."

Amy pulls her head out of her hands and looks directly at him.

Jake nods to his jacket which is spread underneath Amy, "and look, you've even got me taking my clothes off."

She can't help a small smile working its way onto her face, in spite of the situation.

"Shut up, Peralta," she laughs in a whisper.

Amy knows it sounds insane considering how tough she's been on him, but part of her is slightly glad that Jake is stuck down here with her. If she was on her own she'd probably freaking out a whole lot more.

"Is this your first time shut in a dark room with a guy?" he whispers back, teasingly.

"Shut up."

She knows he's kidding though, so allows herself to smile.

"Okay, how about another game to lighten the mood," Jake starts. Amy tries to interrupt him but he holds up a hand, "just let me finish."

"Fine. What?"

"Instead of the things we dislike about each other… what about listing the things we actually do like?"

Amy's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"That's not the sort of game I would have expected you to come up with," she thinks aloud. "Although I guess it involves you receiving multiple compliments so it will be good for boosting your ego."

"Okay, fine, instead of listing why don't we go back and forth saying one each."

"I don't know if I can think of any for you," Amy jokes, smirking.

"Ha-ha. You're hilarious," Jake drawls. "Okay, you start."

"No, you start."

"Fine. Um, you're dedicated. There. Now it's your turn."

Amy slaps a hand to her chest in mock disbelief.

"I'm sorry, did I hear right? Did you actually just say something nice about me?"

"I will happily take it back if you don't return the favour," Jake warns.

"Alright," she laughs. "Uh, you're dedicated too, I guess."

"You can't say the same thing as me, that's cheating!" Jake protests.

"Since when?"

"Since now. Say something else."

Amy has to work to stop her eyes from rolling.

"You…," she pauses to think, "you sometimes make me laugh. Only sometimes."

She can just about make out Jake chuckling to himself in the darkness.

"Gee, thanks."

"Your go," she reminds him.

"You have good taste in TV shows."

"You're good at going undercover."

"You have good reflexes."

"You make the office more interesting."

"Your hair is shiny."

"You have a contagious smile."

"You're ambitious."

"You're a good detective."

"You took care of me that time that I was drunk."

Amy pauses and cocks her head to one side.

"You remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember it," Jake answers quietly.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asks.

Jake shrugs his shoulders, avoiding her eyes.

"I guess I should have apologised."

"No, no it was fine," Amy assures him because honestly, it was. She doesn't really mind that he called round in the middle of the night – it was kind of funny and also kind of sweet. But she doesn't understand why he hasn't brought it up since.

Before she can say another word, there is a clang and a thud against the roof of the elevator. Then the doors are ripped open and artificial light from outside pours in, almost blinding her.

"Are you guys alright in here?" the Fire Marshall asks, lowering himself into the dark, cramped compartment.

"Thank God you're here," Jake grins, getting to his feet. "I was worried we were going to be stuck down here forever and I'd have to resort to cannibalism and eat Santiago."

He laughs and the Fire Marshall joins in.

And just like that, the moment's gone.

vi.

Jake had arrived around eleven at Amy's apartment, holding a squashed bunch of drooping flowers. She had laughed but accepted them anyway and invited him in.

"I just wanted to make sure everything was cool between us," he had explained as he walked inside for the first time since the night he was drunk.

"Sure," Amy answered, getting a vase from the cupboard and filling it with water. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Jake scratched the back of his neck uncertainly.

"I just didn't want things to be weird after yesterday."

Amy placed the flowers in the vase and turned to face him.

"It's not weird."

"You sure about that?"

Amy collapsed down onto the couch beside him.

"Of course. It's fine."

"Okay," Jake sighed in relief. "Good."

"So…," Amy's eyes wandered towards the TV. "Wanna watch CSI?"

"Hells yeah," Jake grinned, scooping up the DVD case and leaping towards the player.

Amy couldn't stop herself from smiling.

That was this morning. They watched CSI until they both had headaches and Jake decided that he was hungry. Now it's lunchtime; Amy's sitting beside him in a pizza place which, he claims, is 'not quite as good as Sal's but still pretty good'.

"You know you sound like Boyle when you talk like that," Amy teases, biting into a slice of pizza.

Jake groans exaggeratedly, making her laugh some more. Then he clears his throat and his smile fades.

"Look, I know I've sometimes been a bit of a dick to you –"

"Sometimes?" Amy jumps in in scepticism. "What about all the times you've sabotaged my dates in the past?"

Jake takes a breath.

"Okay, I've been a dick to you a lot in the past. And as for the dates, maybe I was just…." He trails off, unable to find the right word.

"Jealous?" Amy suggests, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Jake snorts, "no, not jealous," but she's not sure how much she believes him.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say that… I'm sorry, I guess," he finishes.

Amy smiles. "I forgive you."

"And I mean, you're not the worst partner ever," he admits.

"Exactly," Amy agrees. "You could be partnered with someone like Hitchcock. And then where would you be?"

They both laugh at that particular thought.

"Okay," Jake smiles. "You're definitely not the worst partner."

Amy smiles back.

"Thanks, Peralta."

He clears his throat again, avoiding having a conversation that's too serious as usual.

"Here, try this," he says, picking up his glass which is half full of some kind of frothy alcohol.

"You know I don't like beer," Amy answers, screwing her face up.

"But this stuff is good," Jake promises. "Just try a little bit, I swear you'll like it."

Amy isn't sure but Jake practically shoves the glass into her face, so she accepts it with a laugh.

"Okay, okay, just a bit."

She closes her eyes and swallows a few sips of his drink, trying not to make a face. It is… actually pretty good. But, of course, she doesn't want Jake to know that he was right.

"It's alright," she shrugs nonchalantly, placing the glass back down on the table.

Unfortunately, Jake sees straight through it.

"Don't lie, it's great. Admit that it's great!"

Amy grins and shakes her head.

"Never."

Jake laughs to himself, taking a few more bites of his pizza before it goes cold. She does the same.

A moment later, a thought occurs to her. Jake notices her change in expression and looks up from his food.

"What?" he asks.

"So, I was just wondering… is this, like… a date?"

Jake tries to act cool about it but Amy can tell that the word date has thrown him. He ends up just shrugging.

"It can be whatever you want it to be."

She smiles and doesn't answer.

Even though six months ago she would have found the idea horrifying, Amy decides that a date is exactly what she wants it to be.