startofamoment:

You flirted with me for 20 seconds, and I became obsessed with you forever.

January 14th, 2014. Detectives Peralta and Santiago conducted surveillance from a rooftop at 397 Barton Street.

Objectively speaking, Santiago’s attractive, sure. Jake’s willing to admit (to everyone other than Charles and Amy herself) that she’s an 8 on average, possibly even a 9 when she has her hair down or when she’s in a certain light. He once went so far as to call her a 10, but he was three or so beers in at that point, and there was just something about Five Drink Amy’s confidence that had him so drawn to her. (Gina has his whole drunken confession on her phone, and he’s $127.39 away from getting her to delete the video for good.)

Still, he’s never thought of his partner like that. She’s always just been the nerdy perfectionist seated across from him, lecturing him every now and then about his messy desk or shoddy paperwork or terrible eating habits. He likes teasing her and competing with her and, yeah, working with her. But he doesn’t like her.

Of course, she has never, in their several years of knowing each other, given any slight indication of being interested in him.

Until, well… now.

He’s halfway through telling her about how he got his beloved yet beat-up mustang, and he can’t help but notice that she’s hanging on to every word of his. Her attentive, almost playful gaze reminds him of girls he met at bars during his academy days – girls who batted their eyelashes at him and giggled at all his (terrible) jokes, girls who leaned closer when he spoke and stole fleeting glances at his lips. Some mixture of curiosity and excitement swells in his chest despite himself, and he almost forgets this is Amy he’s talking to.

“Thus began the debt,” he says a moment or so later, ending his story.

“Crushing debt,” she jokes back, making his insides melt a tiny bit. He’s fairly certain he used those same exact words a whole year ago, and a new-ish voice in the back of his head tells him this has to mean something.

Before he realizes it, he’s laughing and his heart’s skipping a beat because she looks absolutely ridiculous and downright adorable trying (failing) to catch nuts in her mouth. It suddenly occurs to him that he never wants this moment to end, plans at Times Square be damned.

Hours later, after their perps are brought in and he’s finally back home, he finds himself lying awake in bed replaying the same twenty seconds from earlier over and over again in his head. He can’t quite figure out whether the flirting meant anything to her, but he does know one thing: Amy Santiago is a 10 – no, a 12.