Peraltiago-Too Late To Turn Back Now

1x04

If she hadn't have studied Jake Peralta's files, she'd've almost believed Jake lived here. But she new better.

The place was untidy, "not up to scratch for a Santiago", her mother would say. But she got the distinct impression that this apartment was too tidy for Jake.

"Sorry about..." He waved towards the vast amount of clothes, takeout packages and general waste covering the floor. "...that. I don't usually have people round." Oh, Amy believed that alright.

"Thanks for inviting me over. I... I can't say as I wanted to be alone." He put his hands on her shoulders, lifting his jacket off her.

"I'll get you a sweatshirt or something, it'll keep you warm better than this old thing." His eyes scanned over the rest of her. "Shall I get you some sweatpants too?" His eyes finally lifted from where her short red dress clung to the curves at her waist.

"Please," Amy smiled apologetically.

He nodded, ducking his eyes from her hips and dashing off into the next room in search for clothes. Amy did a quick visual sweep on the place, nothing suspicious. He wouldn't be away long enough for her to look properly but...

She fingered the key she'd taken from his jacket pocket and slipped it into her bra—curse female fashion for not having pockets.

"Here," Jake pressed a pile of clothes in her arms. "Bathroom's just this way."

~~~

She could laugh at her reflection in his bathroom mirror, presentable, elegant make-up, smart hair with a few stray wisps from the wind and Jake's baggy sweatpants and hoodie.

"Hey, where'd you get this?" Amy fingered the strings on the sweatshirt. NYPD. This had to be a joke, it was a knock-off, online sweatshirt surely.

"I- ugh, I went to the Academy. Only one of the 6 month training initiation things they do for recruits. I was only... 17? 18?" She nodded, trying not to mention the fact that she had a whole wardrobe of NYPD gear at her own home.

"It's soft." She managed, not entirely lying. The sweatshirt was well-worn and smelt distinctly of Jake. Amy shoved her hands in the pockets.

Jake smiled at her from his counter, raising his eyebrows and lifting a mug in question. "Coffee, please?" She replied, heading over to stand beside him.

He handed her a mug and she wrapped her hands around it eagerly, relishing in the warmth to her fingers.

"So, Jake, tell me about yourself." Amy said, taking a sip of the coffee and perching on the arm of the couch.

"What do you wanna know?" He smirked, fingers curling round his own coffee.

Amy didn't head straight for his work even though she wanted to. So she just shrugged. "The basics?"

He chuckled. "I'm 35. My favorite color's like orangey-yellow, like sunset, pizza grease and cheese-burger-cheese orange.." Amy felt herself internally gag. "My favorite movie's Die Hard." She nodded and started her own basic factfile when he gestured for her to tell him about herself.

"I'm 32, favorite color's pastel orange, not pizza grease orange, pastel." Amy clarified. "I... don't have a favorite movie but my favorite book is 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix '."

She watched a smile tug across his lips. "Nerd." Jake whispered, just loud enough to hear. Before Amy could protest, he was already backpedaling. "No, it's not a bad thing. It's cute. You're nerdy. It's cute." At her disapproving glare, he threw his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry, sorry- I'm sorry. I'll stop calling you cute." He slowly brought his arms down.

~~~

There was something about him... he didn't seem criminal. She perched on his couch and laughed with him for hours, her brain working double time to try and catch anything suspicious. He was good. He hadn't slipped up once.

As the clock reached 12:45, she knew she had to make her exit.

"I should go soon. I'll change, so you can have your clothes back." She started gathering her clothes, red dress, heels and a thin black kardigan. Jake shook his head.

"No, no, it's freezing out. You'll catch something. You don't need to change."

Amy narrowed her eyes. "But-"

"You can get the clothes back to me when we next bump into each other." Jake smiled. "Go, before you end up giving yourself pneumonia."

Amy nodded, still a little reluctant. Jake raised his eyebrows as if he was daring her to say anything.

"Right, well..." she started. "I'll be off then."

He opened the door for her and flashed her a bright smile, which Amy returned tiredly.

"Thank you. For helping, and for the company, and the clothes."

"No problem. I'll see you round, Stanton."

She took a few steps beyond his door but turned around. "Hey, Jake?"

He lifted his chin to look at her again, eyebrows raised a hair above where they usually sat. "Yeah?"

"Can we bump into each other... say, Friday night? My place?"

He nodded, a smile brewing on his face. "I don't have your address. Or your number." He commented.

"I'll walk you from the bodega at 7."

"It's a date."