Chapter Text
When Amy Santiago was six years old, eight-year-old Manny discovered that if he repeated everything she said in a squeaky voice, he could make her turn a fun shade of red. If he did it long enough, she would yell and stomp her feet, and sometimes cry (at which point his mother would scold him and tell him to leave his sister alone). He found this absolutely hilarious, and it was his favorite form of entertainment for a solid year.
When she was eleven and just entering middle school, fifteen-year-old Sebi started narrating her like she was a nature program. “And here we see a wild Amy in its natural habitat, completely surrounded by books and refusing to interact with others of its kind.” “The Amy grows territorial when it is hungry, and will attack any perceived competition at the watering hole.” Her other brothers would encourage him in bad Australian accents, and Amy would fume in silence. (Most of the time. Sometimes she would snap and twist Sebi’s ear until he cried uncle. She might be the youngest and the only girl, but she knew each of their weak spots.)
When she was sixteen, all of her brothers made a big show of gathering her most embarrassing baby pictures and putting them in a single album they called The Boyfriend Book , and they insisted that this album would be shown to every single one of her future dates. (Amy didn’t date much in high school, though. Well. At all, really. Certainly she never brought anyone to the house. Joke’s on them. Sort of.)
To say that Amy Santiago is used to being annoyed is a huge understatement.
When she is twenty-five and transfers to Brooklyn’s 99th precinct, she discovers that there is a whole new level of annoying awaiting her there.
Jake Peralta is friendly enough, at least at first, but he’s also loud, messy, overbearing, and the most
incredibly
immature person she’s ever met. Right at this moment, for example, he’s doing the Running Man in the middle of the bullpen to celebrate the confession he just extracted from his latest arrest.
“That’s right, bad guys!” he cheers. “No rest for the wicked when Jake Peralta is on the case!” Then he stops and doubles over, hands on his knees, taking deep gulping breaths. “Whoa, okay, dancing and yelling, lungs no likey.”
“The diet of gummy bears and orange soda probably doesn’t help,” Amy points out, and he grins at her.
“I’ll have you know that I ate a whole tortilla for breakfast this morning!”
Despite herself, she’s impressed. “You made yourself...what, a breakfast burrito?”
“Huh? No, I mean...a tortilla. Y’know, just…” and he makes a gesture that Amy thinks is supposed to indicate a plain flat tortilla.
How this man is even alive is a complete mystery to Amy.
He finally sits down at his desk and looks at his computer. “Okay, report time,” he says under his breath. “Time for type-y hands to tip tap away.”
But he doesn’t. First he flips through his case file a few times. Then he picks up a pencil and wiggles it in front of his face to make it look like it’s made of rubber. Next he finds a pen and clicks it in and out a few thousand times, and then he’s spinning in his chair, and finally he decides that it’s time to type.
Two fingers at a time.
Just...pecking at the keyboard with his index fingers. One agonizing letter at a time.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
…
Tap.
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Tap.
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Tap.
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Tap.
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Tap.
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Tap.
“Oh my god!” Amy exclaims, and Peralta starts. “Will you please just type your report like a normal person!”
She immediately regrets saying anything, because an all-too-familiar grin spreads across his face. “Why?” he says innocently. “Does.” Tap. “This.” Tap. “Bug.” Tap. “You?” Tap.
Amy puts on her most intimidating face and leans across her desk. “If you do not start typing properly you will regret it.”
His grin widens. “Oh yeah?”
Smirking, Amy sits back in her chair. “Yeah.”
“You don’t scare me,” he says. “I’m way too much of a badass cop, plus I’ve been here longer. I’ve seen things .”
“And I have seven older brothers,” she says.
Something flickers on his face. Aha .
“But sure,” she says breezily, “keep annoying me. Remind me to tell you about the time my brother Matt took a shower and came out bald. It was probably a complete coincidence that he’d hidden my favorite book that morning.” She keeps her eyes trained on her computer and refuses to look up to observe the effect of her words.
There’s silence across the desk for a minute or two, and then the quick, steady typing of a man who has chosen his battles wisely.
Amy almost smiles, but really she’s frustrated. She never thought she’d have to deal with someone so annoying in a police department!