Here we go!
150: "You made me what?" + Jake and Amy (Brooklyn Nine-Nine)
"You made me what?" Jake shrieked, his voice going up an entire octave.
"It's no big deal," said Amy, tossing her empty coffee cup into the trash can on her way into the precinct. "It was just, like, one song."
"One Spice Girls song, Amy," Jake insisted. He followed her to her desk, and she made certain to sit down nonchalantly, doing a little twirl in her office chair. "My credibility has been ruined."
"I'm pretty sure you've done worse. Remember the Great Streak of '09?"
Jake scowled, stomping his foot like a toddler. "I thought we agreed not to talk about that."
"Not to talk about what?" asked Boyle, sliding up on a pair of heelys. He'd only had them a week; about the same amount of time they'd had the betting pool about how long it would take him to hospitalise himself. He already had an arm in a sling, courtesy of Tuesday's rain-slick pavement.
"Don't mention the war, Boyle," said Amy, turning to her computer and starting it up. It took almost half an hour to get going, anyway; she might as well get it started.
"Oh," said Boyle, understanding dawning. "You guys are talking about Jake's karaoke performance last night."
"Shut up, Charles," hissed Jake, moving to sit at his desk, right across from Amy. He folded his arms over his chest, pouting. "Amy got me drunk and took advantage of me." He winced. "Not–okay, that sounded better in my–"
"I didn't get you drunk just to make you do karaoke," defended Amy. But if Jake was particularly pliant after a few beers and therefore more willing to attempt the daring vocals of classic pop hits–well, Amy was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not when she could be funneling Budweiser into that mouth while queuing up Wannabe on the karaoke machine instead.
"Liar," accused Jake.
"Squad!" barked the Captain, appearing in the doorway between his office and the rest of the precinct. "What's going on?"
Jake clammed up immediately, and Amy rolled her eyes. Captain Holt hadn't joined them for their festivities the night before, contrary to her efforts, so he hadn't borne witness to Jake's performance.
She began, "Jake put on a show for us last night–" only to be cut off by her boyfriend's indignant squawk.
"You're talking about the karaoke incident," said Holt.
"You know about that?" Jake asked, shocked. "It's not even 9!"
"Of course I know," said Holt, as though it was obvious. "I follow Gina on snapchat."
Amy choked on her saliva. It tasted a lot like the burnt coffee she'd had that morning. "You do?"
"Of course," said Holt. "We have a 103-day streak. I wouldn't want to break it." He raised an eyebrow at Amy, slowly backing away and leaving them all in stunned silence.
Jake, of course, was the one to break it. "Something tells me that my karaoke performance just became the second most talked about thing in the precinct."
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