summary: based on s.1 ep.7, in which jake peralta arrests a man with zero evidence, and only has the comforting presence of his girlfriend to soothe his worries.
wc: 1k+
cw: suggestive comments.
These past 48 hours have maybe been the most miserable ones you’ve ever lived through. For the sake of staying professional, you don’t usually take cases with Jake unless Holt explicitly commands you to, but being in a relationship, that rarely happens. That gives you the honour of witnessing your boyfriend’s mistakes from a safe distance, and to receive pats on the back in forms of humiliating comments from Gina when it’s just a little too embarrassing to handle. Tonight though (or should you say the past two days), you can’t help but join in on the team’s disappointment.
One arrest made, zero evidence. And now, 48 hours until the perp is released.
On the bright side, your boyfriend is a cop too, so it’s not like he’ll be mad that you have to cancel your date. On the downside, your boyfriend is the one who got you in this situation, and now you’re mad that he didn’t just get your date cancelled, but got you stuck in the precinct for a little longer than preferable by anyone. Again with the brighter side though, at least you’re not in Amy’s position. In all aspects, not just the fact that her own date got cancelled with a man who won’t understand the importance of her job.
“I know he’s your boyfriend, but I want to slice a knife through Jake’s stomach and watch his guts leak onto the floor, then stuff them back into his body through his mouth.”
“Don’t worry, I’m mad at him too.” Rosa hums at your response to her comment, and the both of you stare as Jake rubs his eyes at his desk, speaking incoherently to himself. In front of him, Amy has already changed out of her pretty pink dress for the second time tonight and is glaring at Jake with an expression there isn’t a word for yet.
Jake pushes his chair away from his desk, eyes desperately searching around the bullpen. When Charles pops up by his side and Jake keeps searching, you know there’s only one person he’s looking for. You push yourself off the kitchen counter and begin making your way to the printing room, fully aware that Jake’s eyes will find you when you walk by. And of course, his footsteps begin to follow you the instant you pass his desk.
Jake shuts the door to the printer room behind him despite the glass windows offering zero privacy anyway, then brings his hands to your waist, eyes pleading for comfort from you even though he fully knows you’re upset with his actions too. But everyone makes mistakes, and Jake just so happens to be the unfortunate detective who made an arrest with zero evidence on a friday night. You open your arms, which he easily falls into, bringing his face in the crook of your neck, but all you can manage is a sweet “It’s okay baby, let’s just focus on the case and hopefully we can go home soon.”
Jake pulls away from the hug, face coloured in guilt. “See, I ruined your day too.”
“My day hasn’t been ruined, I was just looking forward to spending time with you.” Jake frowns, and you bring your hands down to his biceps, squeezing them once before letting him go. “Come on, we’ll solve this case and go home, okay?”
“Mine or yours?” He asks, hands sliding to your hips and squeezing them twice. “Mine, obviously.”
“Obviously.” He echoes with a quick tilt of his head. A small smile on your face has Jake quickly stealing a kiss from you, and he quietly repeats "Obviously." You nod, face becoming serious, and Jake purses his lips before leaving the room. You sigh, shutting your eyes for a short moment as you suppress a yawn, hands flying to cover your mouth. Jake better solve that case within the next twenty minutes, you think, otherwise you might be the person ending up in the holding cell. If Rosa doesn’t get to him first.
The second you leave the room though, you’re interrupted by Jake running past you with a thick folder. You return to the bullpen with wide eyes and high hopes, observing Amy in her clean suit and hoping she’ll be able to wear her nice dress again at some point. Though, in the mess of half eaten pies and the dark stain left on the bottom of the dress to mark the traumatic event, you doubt she will.
But of course, Jake always sticks to his word — even though he’s wrong the first or second or third time, and twenty minutes later everyone is dressed and ready to go home. While everyone stuffs themselves in the elevator, Jake chuckles, asking “So does anyone want to get drinks? On me?”
Rosa nods towards you, and Jake turns around to catch your eye as she calls out “We’re all still mad at you, but it’s only important for you to make it up to one person right now.”
“I’d like a margarita, please.” You request, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Jake breathes out a laugh, and he comes towards you to wrap his arm around your waist, bringing you close to him. “You can get as many margaritas as you like. Until — you know — you’re climbing on top of me and begging for all of this hot stuff.”
“That was really upsetting to watch.” Amy groans at Jake's crude gesture as the elevator doors begin closing with a squeak. Charles, with a wide grin, immediately retorts with “Their love is beautiful, you’re just upset that you’re not going to be making love to anyone tonight.” That triggers loud protests from the team, and you're suddenly happy that there isn't space for you and Jake on that same elevator.
You wait until the elevator doors have closed all the way before you turn towards your boyfriend, mumbling “Charles’s comment almost ruined it for me, and I hate to boost your ego, but give me two drinks and I will be climbing you like a tree.” Jake grins as you press a kiss to his cheek, then turns to catch your lips in a short kiss. “Hey, maybe we can have a quick trip to the file room, then the print room, then we go to the bar for those margaritas, and then back to yours?”
“We can skip a couple of those steps.” Jake smiles giddily, tilting his head to the side and suggesting “Skip the bar, you mean?”
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JAKE PERALTA can't believe his stroke of good luck. Of pure, unadulterated good luck. He had entered the crime scene with you mere moments ago and after a heated exchange of bouncing off of each other with observations— your voices gradually raising at the same level as you near the climax of the conversation— you'd given him the look. Focused eyes watching him through your brows, the curl of your parted lips, panting through them. How you assessed him, scanned his figure like he was edible, sharing a silent moment with him as you calculate exactly what you wanna do to him. Next thing he knew you were excusing you and him saying you'd be going out for coffee, when you'd pulled him into the nearest cleaning closet of the apartment complex that wasn't crawling with cops. Now he's balls deep inside you, clothes having hastily been moved aside to accommodate it.
"Jakey," you whine, dragging out the word. He loves it when you call him that. Gets him all hot and bothered, afraid he'd give you whatever you asked for when you invoke that pretty petname off those pretty lips. "you fuck me so good..."
His teeth bite hard into the skin past his lips, brows creased in concentration so as not to bust to early. It's a quickie, a fucking hot one, but he's still got manners. The sound of your voice has his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he's fucking you from the back, big hands on your hips to keep pulling you back onto his cock while you brace on the wall. A brief moan hums through his nose as he directs you closer to him, talking shit in your ear, "Do I fuck you good? Yeah? Yeah, baby? 'I fuck you good?" breathless, and dizzy with pleasure, he can't believe someone like you is this into him.
reader's pronouns are he/him; race is ambiguous and few physical descriptors are used.*
summary: “I just thought you should know…” Jake trails off. “Well. You know I had that whole… bisexual awakening last month.”
You nod.
“Well, it was kinda… sorta… maybe… technically… probably…”
You raise your eyebrows expectantly.
“You threw me into it,” Jake blurts out. “Like, full-on gay panic. It’s your fault.”
word count: 6.2k | ao3 version
author's notes: *The reader’s written to wear glasses. There’s one point where he dyes his hair, but there’s nothing mentioned about the texture/length/style of his hair. Otherwise, no physical descriptors are used for him.
warnings: mentions of police & police/detective work, anxiety attacks.
Ever since you started working at the 99, Jake Peralta has been undergoing what he’s been affectionately referring to as a sexuality crisis. He knows you’re a good-looking guy, smart and witty. And, practically speaking, you’re the ideal person to share a desk with: Charles and Jake would never get any work done; Gina would be similarly distracting, while also obliterating his self-esteem forever; the smell of Terry’s Greek yogurt would make him nauseous, and Rosa would break his computer at the slightest inconvenience. Besides, you’re the newest hire and you needed a desk. The one across from Jake was empty. Boom, problem solved.
Not boom. The problem was not solved. In fact, this only made things so much worse. Now, after several months have passed and a healthy crush on you has formed, Jake is regretting everything that led him to being your desk buddy. (Charles tried calling it “desk jockey,” but this never caught on because it sounded far too similar to “disc jockey,” which everyone but Gina knew to mean “DJ.”)
Jake is suffering more than anyone else in the world. That is a complete lie, but he repeats this mantra in his head to make himself feel better. He’s so busy with this daily repetition of his that he doesn’t notice your arrival, until you’re draping your jacket over your chair and sitting down across from him. This, unfortunately, puts you directly in his line of sight. Even in his distraction, Jake can see the muted green of your tie.
He groans. “C’mon, man, you gotta ditch the tie,” Jake says with a huff, finally giving up on purging his thoughts. “You’re making me look bad.” This is only partially true. Jake has his own grievances with wearing a tie. He and Captain Holt have had this conversation many times now: Holt tells him to wear one; Jake says no; Holt threatens to fire him; Jake begrudgingly wears a tie the next day; Holt nods and compliments him; Jake loses the tie; and they never speak of it again.
“Boyle wears a tie,” you respond with a frown, breaking Jake out of his thoughts. “Sarge wears a tie. Sully and Hitchcock wear ties. Sometimes.” You’re confused by this comment. You probably should be. Hell, Jake himself is confused. He clears his throat.
“Yeah, but you’re different,” Jake says, speaking before his mind can catch up.
“How am I different?” you blink. More confusion. Jake is really just digging his own grave here, isn’t he?
“Well, if you’re wearing a tie, then I’m only the fourth hottest guy in the office,” he blurts out.
You squint at him in confusion. “You have a ranking?”
“No—!” he says quickly, spinning around in his chair. “Definitely not. At all. It’s not on the back of the whiteboard in the breakroom.” Damn it! He’s just making a fool of himself, at this rate.
“So, what, it’s you, Holt, Boyle, Jeffords?” you guess. “That makes me five.”
That ranking is so incredibly wrong. Completely deluded, utterly criminal.
“No,” Jake huffs. “Obviously, you’re first. Then Captain Holt, then Sarge, then Boyle, then me. But my winning personality has been undefeated for years now, so don’t even bother.”
You’re staring at him in disbelief.
“Uh, from a purely scientific perspective,” he continues, quickly growing self-conscious. He practically just called you hot to your face. “I’m, like, the straightest guy known to man. Just… so masculine. A guy’s guy. Without the guys. I mean, I’m straight.”
“...Okay,” you just blink.
“I’m gonna… go find an excuse outside,” Jake stammers. It’s not even 9:30 a.m. yet, and he’s already had enough embarrassment for the entire work day—hell, the entire week. He gets to his feet and walks off, his cheeks burning.
“You look like you work at a Blockbuster,” is the first thing Jake’s greeted with as he walks into the bullpen the first morning after his Florida excursion. He frowns at the less-than-excited greeting, turning to find Rosa staring at him with an unimpressed look. And okay, fine, this isn’t technically his first time seeing the squad after Florida. But still! A simple “good morning” or “hey, Jake, we missed you!” would’ve gone a long way.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he scoffs, running a hand through his hair. The frosted tips—blonde at the edges of his brown hair—are still very much present, even after a few months. Jake was hoping no one would tease him about it. Clearly, that was a pipe dream. “And Blockbuster’s not a thing anymore.”
Terry grins as he looks over at him. “You look like Guy Fieri.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he huffs.
“You look like you work at a shitty gas station with only two functioning pumps,” you add with a playful smile. Et tu, work husband? “And you hit on any woman who enters the store. And you don’t let customers use the bathroom unless they buy you a smoke or something.”
Jake sputters. That’s a… vivid picture. He can’t find a response to that before the elevator is dinging, the doors sliding open. Jake turns to the side, hoping for a reprieve.
It’s Gina entering the building, late as always. She’s looking down at her phone and bumps into him. “Move, Jake,” she says, casting a haphazard gaze his way. Then she sees his hair and promptly makes several gagging sounds. “Oh my God, get out of here.”
“What—?” he chokes.
“Go on,” she says, shooing him like he’s a bothersome dog. “Get! Get!”
“Gina,” Captain Holt says firmly, emerging from his office upon hearing the commotion. “Everyone. That is enough. Detective Peralta has just gotten back from Florida. His bravery was commendable. If he wishes—” he breaks off, clearing his throat. “If he wishes to look like a common-grade douchebag, then he may do so.”
Jake actually gasps at that one. The group erupts in laughter. “You too, Captain?” he exclaims.
“It’s fine, Jakey; I think it looks cool,” Boyle adds, flashing him a thumbs-up.
“Damn it, Boyle,” he huffs, appreciative of his best friend even if he’s a total liar. “You’d say that about anything.”
“So?” Boyle shrugs.
Jake sighs self-consciously. “Is it really that bad?” he questions, looking around the room.
“Awful,” Rosa supplies.
“Unsightly,” Gina adds.
Jake glances over at you expectantly. He wants your opinion. You’re grimacing slightly, too nice to say anything more incriminating.
…Jake gets rid of the frosted tips.
“There you go, Jake,” Gina says the next day, not even looking up from her phone as he walks into the door. “Now you look like the mediocre white boy you were always meant to be.”
You actually laugh at that; Rosa smirks. Jake huffs. “Yeah, yeah, don’t panic, guys. Classic Jake is back,” he announces, making a show of strolling to his desk and kicking his feet up on it after he sits. His sneakers are definitely not as clean as they should be. Is that gum on the bottom of the left one? Ugh.
Jake self-consciously runs a hand through his hair, which is back to its normal warm brown. He looks around the room. Boyle is grabbing coffee in the kitchen, likely mumbling about how shitty it tastes. Rosa is discussing something with Gina, who is multi-tasking as always.
He puts his feet back down and leans over his desk slightly, making you look up from your paperwork. “Was my hair really that bad?” Jake asks quietly.
You blink, seeming to sense his sincerity. “I mean, it didn’t look great,” you admit diplomatically, “but it wasn’t Mr. Grapes bad, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Okay,” Jake sighs in relief. “Okay. Good. Thanks.” That’s all he needed.
You send him a puzzled look. He pretends not to notice. As long as you don’t think too badly of him, he doesn’t care.
Jake finally thinks he’s escaped the hair dye situation, until he’s reminded of it as he enters the precinct a few weeks later. There are no frosted tips in sight, fortunately. By all accounts, the memory should be rotting in the recesses of his mind. But as he sees you standing near your desk, speaking to a few of your coworkers, he’s thrown back into that time.
Because… you dyed your hair.
“Hey, what the hell?” Jake asks, tossing his bag to the floor. Then he asks again, because seriously, “What the hell?”
“Yeah, Jakey?” Boyle asks, looking over at him.
“What’s this?” he demands, joining the impromptu group gathered at your desk. He looks at you expectantly. “Huh?”
“Uh… hey,” you remark casually.
“What’s this?” he repeats, his voice climbing a bit higher. Jake motions at your head.
“Hair,” you respond flatly.
“What— You—” Jake sputters.
“You broke Peralta,” Rosa says with amusement, nudging your shoulder.
“I—” he chokes.
“You can just say he looks hot, Jake,” Gina supplies easily.
This, unsurprisingly, doesn’t help his predicament. His cheeks feel warm. “It’s— I mean— But—” Jake stammers. He takes a slow breath, resolutely looking away from you. He manages to get it out in a harsh breath. “You all tore me a new one when I dyed my hair!”
“Because it was shitty,” Gina remarks. She looks over at you briefly. “And his isn’t.” Rosa nods in evident agreement.
“But…” Jake breaks off. He can’t stop staring at you, for some reason. You didn’t do anything too drastic—it’s the same hairstyle you normally have, just with a different color. It shouldn’t be making him so speechless.
“But what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and daring him to say something. Your eyes are gleaming with challenge. “Come on, say it. I can take it.”
You’re looking at him expectantly. Rosa raises her eyebrows pointedly. Gina winks. Even Boyle is nodding enthusiastically, sensing Jake is on the precipice of revealing his feelings. He takes a slow breath. That smirk on your face is killing him. You know you’re hot. You have to know!
Of course, Jake is never one to back down from a fight—except for, ya know, all the times he backs down from a fight. Like now, for instance. He could take the opportunity that Gina practically gift-wrapped. Or he could dig his grave even deeper. “It looks stupid,” Jake says.
Gina shakes her head; Rosa rolls her eyes in disbelief. Boyle shakes his head too, seemingly having an unspoken conversation with the two of them through eye contact alone.
A wry smile twists your lips. “Thanks,” you say dryly. That little smirk of yours is really not helping. Not helping at all. He’s already replaying it on loop in his head.
“No—” Jake breaks off with a cough, “No problem.”
Rosa groans.
“Hey,” Jake says to you later that day, feigning an air of nonchalance and composure. He tries to slide over to sit on his desk casually. He knocks over his cup of pens and quickly picks it up, settling against the edge of his desk to look over at you.
“Hey,” you respond casually.
“I, uh,” Jake says. Damn it, why is this so difficult?!? He can barely even look at you without wanting to shower you with compliments and sappy things. Ugh. “I’m sorry. About earlier.”
“It’s fine,” you reassure him. “I’m a big boy, I can handle some criticism,” you huff with amusement.
Jake fights off a smile at that. He shakes his head. “It doesn’t look stupid,” he reassures you. “I swear.”
“Okay,” you respond. You’re willing to let it go. But you don’t seem to truly believe him, and, for some reason, he needs you to trust him on this.
“Look, I’m…” he stutters. Jesus Christ. He’s never been so tongue-tied before. It’s pathetic. “I was just pissed ‘cause you were getting compliments. While I got, y’know, the Guy Fieri shit.”
A faint smile on your lips. “Hey, Guy Fieri’s a national treasure,” you joke.
“Yeah,” you confirm. “Definitely stained the bathroom tile, but it’s fine.”
“Cool,” Jake responds with a nod. “Cool cool cool cool cool. Cool. Cool cool cool.” See? He can be normal about things. He moves to sit back down at his desk and definitely doesn’t sneak glances at you for the rest of the day. Definitely not.
“Ugh,” Jake says, announcing his presence as he pushes the opening gate way too hard. It slams shut behind him, yet another sign of his annoyance. Working the night shift is the worst.
He falls into his seat with an exaggerated sigh, spinning around twice for good measure. Then he looks up in confusion. “Uh,” Jake blinks, staring at the unfamiliar sight in front of him. “Who’re you? Where’s my desk buddy?”
“Seriously?” you just huff. You look the same as always, except you’re wearing glasses. They’re cute. Jake tries not to think about that.
“Yeah, I don’t remember sitting across from such a fucking nerd,” he grins.
“Shut up,” you scoff.
“Sure, Harry Potter,” he agrees. “Urkel. Velma. Peter Griffin. I can keep going.”
“Ughhhh,” you just groan, evidently regretting your decisions.
“Why’re you wearing glasses, anyway?” Jake hums as he settles into his chair. “Thought you had contacts.”
“Yeah, the contacts are more practical for work, but,” you shrug. “Don’t need them tonight.”
Jake just nods. Those damn glasses are not helping his thoughts, instead sending him veering down a dangerous track to domesticity and comfortable clothes and sleepy weekend mornings spent together and—
“What?” you ask after a few moments.
“What?” Jake says quickly, blinking as he’s thrown out of his reverie.
“You’re staring,” you point out.
“I’m just thinking about you fighting dragons and flying on a broom and stuff,” Jake says with a dopey grin. “Don’t mind me.”
“Great,” you just mutter.
Jake sighs.
“Stop staring,” you demand a few minutes later.
“Yessir,” Jake says jokingly. He didn’t even realize he was looking. He needs to tone it down a bit.
Jake can readily admit that he fucked up.
Yeah. He should not have apprehended this perp, Dustin Whitman, without sufficient evidence. Now he has 48 hours to track down some evidence before the guy is released.
The whole squad is pissed at him, and he can’t even blame them. Holt called an emergency meeting sometime around 9 p.m., after many of them had already gone home. Jake had foolishly hoped he could handle this on his own, but it’s abundantly clear to him now that he can’t.
Hell, even Boyle looks annoyed. Charles Boyle. His best friend in the entire world, who would probably let him commit a war crime without blinking an eye. Rosa is glaring daggers into the back of his head; Gina didn’t even acknowledge his existence; Sarge glared at him when he tried to talk to him; and Holt’s lips are screwed into that annoyed frown of his. Scully and Hitchcock don’t even seem to know what’s going on, just munching on snacks in the back of the room.
“Is this everyone?” Holt asks, looking around the room.
“No,” Rosa supplies. She doesn’t provide any further explanation.
That’s right. You aren’t here yet. Jake tells the captain as much, watching his jaw clench in impatience. It’s not your fault—if Jake hadn’t fucked up, you wouldn’t have needed to be here. And from what he remembers overhearing from your conversation with Gina, you did have plans after work. Fuck.
Fortunately, the squad is only relegated to this awkward tense silence for a few more minutes, before you’re striding through the door. “Hi, sorry,” you say breathlessly, practically a flurry of motion. Holt dismisses your apology.
And the room promptly bursts into noise. Jake blinks and turns around, only for his mouth to run dry. You’re wearing a suit. A very well-fitted suit. A deep grey suit jacket and matching slacks, with a white dress shirt underneath. Black dress shoes. Glasses again.
What did Jake do to deserve this— this kind of suffering?!!??! How is he supposed to just sit here and pretend you don’t look incredible?
Jake coughs, clears his throat. His voice sounds unsteadier than he’d like. “You have a date with the devil or something?” he jokes.
“The devil?” you repeat. “Uh… no. Unfortunately.”
“Wedding,” Jake realizes with a snap of his fingers. That makes more sense. “You’re welcome for the excuse to leave, by the way.”
“Thanks, Peralta,” you say sarcastically. “So grateful.”
Jake’s eyes wander, because of course they do. He’s but a human man, a mortal. And the top buttons of your shirt are undone—just enough to make him start to spiral. Jake tries to breathe. Is it getting warm in here, or is it just him? “You’re—” he stammers. “You’re missing a tie.” And wearing your glasses, he doesn’t say.
“Yeah,” you answer nonchalantly. You’re looking at him now. He’s the subject of your full attention. Jake gulps. “This, coming from the guy who can’t even wear a tie to the office?” you point out.
“Just saying,” he says, an awkward laugh crawling out of his throat. It takes all of Jake’s resistance not to clap a hand over his mouth. That would only make things worse.
“Shut up,” you scoff lightly, rolling your eyes exasperatedly before moving to sit a few rows in front of him.
“Whipped,” Rosa says, way too loudly for his liking. Fortunately, most of the team seems too wrapped up in separate conversations to notice. Jake whips around and glares at her; she just grins. As Captain Holt gets control of the room, Jake sighs and tries to pay attention to the briefing. His eyes keep wandering to the back of your head, though—almost willing you to turn around.
It’s only natural that he gravitates to you, even after the briefing ends. You’re immersed in conversation with Gina. Jake is trying to decide the best moment to enter the conversation, pretending like he isn’t eavesdropping.
“Why’re you still here, Gina?” you ask her. You have a hand in your pocket and you’re nearly leaning against the nearby wall. Jake suddenly feels like he’s under a searing spotlight, every single one of his many flaws highlighted: coffee stain on the bottom left side of his shirt; untied shoelaces on the left shoe; messy hair; panicked eyes. He sighs, tries and fails to tame his hair before abandoning the attempt.
“Oh, ya know,” Gina responds to you loftily. “I’m waiting for someone to fall asleep so I can have blackmail material.”
“Nice,” you say. You seem to consider the thought. “Boyle will probably be your best bet.”
“Hey guys,” Jake says awkwardly, eventually giving up on trying to make a well-timed entrance.
“Jake,” Gina says warily.
“Hey,” you remark. Polite as always.
“Heyyyyyyyyyy,” Jake enunciates awkwardly.
“No,” Gina says immediately. Her arms are crossed over her chest; she looks very unamused. “You gotta redeem yourself, bud.”
“Ugh,” Jake groans. He shoots multiple glances at you as he goes, feeling somewhat like a lost puppy. He scraps the thought and attempts to get back to work.
Hours pass. Jake feels like they’ve barely made any headway on this case. Whitman still isn’t cracking. Everyone is tired, cranky, and frustrated with him. Not that he can blame them—he’s frustrated with himself. So much so that he just stalks off to the break room, intending to let off some steam.
He finds you curled up on the couch instead.
“Can’t afford to be picky,” you say defensively, before Jake can judge you for your seating choice. He blinks at you, taking in the oversized white shirt and sweatpants you’re wearing. The shirt has “Celebrating 650 Years of Bubonic Plague” written in faded letters across the front, with a drawing of a rat underneath the dates “1339-1989.”
“What are you wearing?” Jake frowns.
“Terry’s clothes,” you reply. “He said they’re from his ‘fat phase’,” you continue with air-quotes.
“You’re drowning in them,” Jake observes.
You shrug. “I’ll take anything over a suit.”
“Fair enough,” Jake acquiesces.
“You think he’ll let me keep this shirt?” you ask.
“Probably,” Jake shrugs. “Scooch over.” He totally isn’t doing this to be closer to you. Definitely not.
You twist to the side and move back a bit, giving him room to sit. “So,” Jake says awkwardly, his fingers jittering on his thighs, “you mad at me too?”
“A bit,” you admit, pulling your legs up so he has more room. “That was pretty stupid of you.”
“I know,” he groans.
“But, hey, we’re still here,” you reassure him, nudging his shoulder gently. “We’re all one big fucked up family. You won’t be exiled for making a mistake.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Jake admits. “Why do you have to be right all the time? It’s annoying, seriously.”
You shrug, because of course you do.
“Hey, wait… if we’re a family, who’s the dad?” he voices.
“Captain Holt, obviously,” you respond.
“Kevin’s our other dad?” Jake asks. You nod. “Sweet. Now instead of one mediocre dad, I get two great dads.”
“You would be the youngest brother, for sure,” you continue.
“Ew, we’re not related in this, are we?” Jake scowls.
“No,” you respond with amusement. “I meant family in the figurative sense.”
“Good,” Jake nods. And then, because he’s apparently committed to making a fool of himself, he says, “Don’t wanna kiss my brother.”
“What?”
“What?” he repeats.
You send him a weird look. It’s quiet for a few moments. “God, this couch sucks ass,” you then mutter, adjusting the blanket wrapped around you in a futile attempt to get comfortable.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Jake says in a slightly strangled voice. He watches you adjust your positioning several times. He tries to look at everything else in the room. The vending machine and its snacks. The dirty table. The windows to the bullpen, the curtains closed for privacy.
Eventually, the silence gets to him, and he looks back at you. The words on his tongue promptly fade to obscurity as he realizes you’re asleep, awkwardly leaning against the back of the couch with your arm resting on it. That looks uncomfortable as hell. You’ll wake with a backache.
Jake swallows hard. He looks around for witnesses. No one that he can see. He does one final check before gently pulling you a bit closer, letting your head fall to his shoulder.
You let out a sleepy breath, leaning even closer to him. Jake thinks he actually chokes on his next breath, tensing up so quickly that you must be able to feel it. But you don’t so much as utter a sound, instead just continuing to rest.
Eventually, he has to sneak away to continue working. But for now, he enjoys the feeling of having you close.
God, Jake really has not been able to stop thinking about you. Ever since you first joined the squad, really. It’s been months, and this little crush of his is only getting worse. He’s constantly finding excuses to spend time with you at work—whether it’s bumping into you in the break room or going on patrol with you. He likes hanging out with you.
You’re cool—clever and witty too. You never make fun of him when he can’t get words out; you’ve always been polite and nice to him, even when Jake’s being particularly aggravating (which he can admit to happen, albeit reluctantly). You were really a natural fit for the team—hell, even Captain Holt has said as much, which is pretty out of character for him.
Jake rubs his hands over his face. These moments he’s been having recently… They’re only confirming a sneaking suspicion he already had: that he has genuine, romantic feelings for you. The thought of spending time with you outside work—not on patrol, or with other coworkers at Shaw’s—is almost tantalizing. But he can never find the perfect moment to just summon the courage and ask. He’s never done this before. Whatever the hell this is.
Sure, he’s thought men were attractive before. He has eyes. But that’s never gone past simple aesthetic attraction, an instinctual recognition that passes quickly. Months of pining, though? Picturing the two of you on all sorts of dates? Living together? Jake assumed he only had those feelings for women. He was wrong, clearly.
…I think I’m bisexual, he tells himself.
Silence.
A prickling crawls up his neck. Jake looks around the bullpen. Everyone’s staring at him. He just said that out loud. At 10:30 in the morning, in front of all his coworkers. He freezes like a deer in headlights. The quiet drags on, slow and painful. Jake isn’t brave enough to look at anyone’s reaction.
“I— Haha,” he chokes awkwardly, getting to his feet clumsily. “Gotta go.”
Jake walks to the roof mechanically, letting the door fall shut behind him as he lets out a shuddering breath in the brisk fall air. He’s so anxious. Everyone’s going to hate him now, if they didn’t already hate him before. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to stay calm. Even worse, Jake isn’t given much time to truly panic before there’s someone at the door behind him.
“Hey, Peralta,” you say cautiously, cracking the door open and peeking through the gap, “you okay?”
Of course it’s you. Of course it had to be you, the very man who spurred this realization in him.
“Yeah, so good, man,” Jake responds, immediately cringing at himself. “Ugh.”
“What’s the matter?” you ask, stepping onto the rooftop and moving to sit next to him. The door falls shut behind you, leaving the two of you out on the roof alone. This does not help Jake’s steadily climbing heart rate. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks.”
Well. The jig’s up. Might as well come clean. “Youmakemenervous,” Jake blurts out.
“What?”
Jake takes a deep breath. Goodbye, dignity. Nice knowing you, pride. So long, respect. “You make me nervous,” he repeats.
“Really?” you squint ever so slightly. “I’m sorry.”
“No, not in a bad way,” Jake scrambles to explain. “Just… I don’t know.”
“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “You don’t need to have all the answers.”
“I can’t believe I just said that,” Jake says, burying his head in his hands. “The bisexual thing, I mean.” Your hand finds his shoulder, a comforting pressure.
“It’s okay,” you reassure him sincerely. Jake takes another shuddering breath. “Most of us are gay, anyways.”
That’s true. He knows for sure no one will care. It’s more the principle of it, the fact that he just blurted it out without fanfare. If Jake had his choice, he would’ve done it a bit more delicately or nonchalantly. He certainly wouldn’t have said it in the middle of the bullpen. Ugh.
…Wait. He finally processes what you just said. “Us?” Jake asks somewhat hopefully.
You blink. “Yeah,” you agree, tilting your head at him slightly. “I’m gay too.”
“Oh,” Jake remarks. He guesses he should’ve known that, but he didn’t want to make assumptions. “So you… like guys?”
“Yeah,” you nod.
“Me too,” Jake says, a bit more sure of himself now.
“Cool,” you respond with a slight smile.
And Jake can breathe a little easier.
It helps that, upon his return, the others are quick to reassure him. Sarge claps a hand on his shoulder; Rosa shoulder-checks him; Boyle gives him a hug, because of course he does; Gina’s eyes are glued to her phone, as always—she already knew, since she was the unfortunate victim to Jake’s many rants about you. Jake accidentally makes eye contact with Captain Holt as he’s looking over at his office; Holt nods once, almost imperceptibly, and Jake relaxes.
He’ll be fine, he thinks. You shoot him a slight smile and Jake returns it, feeling heat rise in his cheeks.
Maybe… even more than fine.
Halloween is the bane of your existence.
Well. That’s not true. If you had a different job, it would be your favorite holiday. But as a detective at the 99th Precinct, working on Halloween is practically a death sentence. You wish that were an over-exaggeration, but at this point in the evening, you’re running on caffeine and pure fumes.
The usual Halloween crowd is badly-costumed, poorly-mannered, and very inebriated. This year’s perps are no different. It feels like all of you are almost constantly in and out of the building.
This guy you just brought in is clearly crossed, his eyes a bit hazy and his balance unsteady. You lead him to your desk before asking him the typical questions, plugging the answers into your computer.
“What’s your name?” the perp asks at some point. He’s staring at you. “C’mon…”
You don’t respond, instead pretending you never heard him ask.
“You look like a painting,” he continues. There’s a strangled laugh from Peralta, which he tries and fails to disguise as a cough. Fuck, you completely forgot he’s right in earshot. Somehow, that only makes things worse. “So nice looking…”
“Flattery won’t get you far,” you warn him firmly.
“Aw,” he says, “but I’m serious! You’re good-lookin’, you know that? Y’know, handsome and all’at.”
“Uh… thanks,” you say somewhat flatly, finishing with data entry before leading him into the holding cell. The moment you close the door, he’s sighing and staring after you like a scorned lover. You shake your head in disbelief, returning to your desk. You try to ignore how Peralta is staring at you.
Things have been a bit weird between the two of you since that conversation on the roof. You’ve been acting the same. Or, at least, you think so. And Peralta is finally starting to seem less nervous around you. But you’ll catch him looking at you sometimes. Often, actually. He always glances away quickly, carries on as if nothing happened.
But, weirdly, it feels like something did.
“You see that perp?” Rosa asks, nodding over to the holding cell. Her hands are shoved in her pockets.
“Gordon Ramsay?” Gina hums, looking down at her phone.
“No, next to him,” Rosa responds. She watches as Gina reluctantly looks up from her phone to stare at the guy in the holding cell. “Hot, right?”
“Totally,” Gina agrees, seeming more interested now. “What’s the vibe?”
“Well, he was definitely flirting with a certain someone earlier…” Boyle adds, quite literally appearing out of nowhere to join their conversation. Gina reaches out and hits him on the shoulder; he lets out a pained sound before continuing. He nods at your desk. “Was asking for his name and stuff. Said ‘you look like a painting’.”
Gina scoffs. “That’s pretty shitty flirting.”
“I know, right?” Charles grins. “As long as Jake can do better, he’ll be fine.”
Rosa blinks at him. Boyle just nods towards your desks. Sure enough, Jake is leaning against yours and speaking with you.
“Godspeed,” Charles whispers.
“Nerd,” Gina scoffs. Rosa huffs in amusement.
Jake is totally having a great, wonderful, super awesome day. It was so fun getting to hear that hot perp flirting with you. He had a front-row seat, since your desks are next to each other. So, so great. So much fun.
He hates to admit it, but he turns around to watch you put the guy in the holding cell. The second you start to turn, Jake whips back around and manifests a sudden interest in his computer screen. He sneaks glances at you as you sit down. You look just a bit flustered. But you made it clear to the guy that you weren’t interested. Still...
“Hey,” Jake says casually, getting your attention. His heart is racing in his chest. He swallows hard. “You good?” he asks.
“Hey,” you respond. “Yeah. Why?”
“Uhhh… nothing,” he remarks. Jake’s glad you don’t seem too uncomfortable, at least. “Just noticed that perp seemed into you.”
“He was definitely crossed,” you note.
“What, so someone has to be crossed to be into you?” Jake scoffs.
“I mean, I guess not,” you shrug. You shake your head. “I’ll take a flirty perp over a violent one any day, though.”
“Yeah,” Jake huffs in agreement. That’s a good point. “Better than flying fists.”
It’s quiet. Well, precinct quiet—which is really just the constant noise of phones ringing, perps pacing in the holding cell, and people typing.
“Listen, can I talk to you for a bit?” Jake asks, resisting the urge to fidget awkwardly. He’s been grappling with his feelings for way too long now. Something has to give. Even if you don’t return his feelings… Jake has to say something or he’s going to explode. “Somewhere a bit less…?”
“Noisy?” you supply. He nods. “Yeah, sure. Lead the way.”
“Okay,” Jake says, getting to his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets. He heads to the nearby hallway, passing the Records Room until he reaches the empty storage room that Scully and Hitchcock use for naps. He opens the door for you, heading in after you and closing it behind you both. The silence almost washes over him in a wave of tranquility. He takes a breath. “Great. That’s better.”
“Much,” you agree. “So, what’s up?”
Damn it all. It’s hard to look at you right now.
“I just thought you should know…” Jake trails off. “Well. You know I had that whole… bisexual awakening last month.”
“Mhm.”
“About that…” he continues. “It was kinda… sorta… maybe… technically… probably…”
You raise your eyebrows expectantly.
“You threw me into it,” Jake blurts out. “Like, full-on gay panic. It’s your fault.”
“Oh,” you say. “I— Sorry?”
“No, no, don’t apologize,” he says quickly. “I think it’s been brewing for a while,” Jake admits with a breathless huff. He runs a hand through his hair, before looking at you. “I just feel like I’ve kinda been a dick, as I’ve been trying to process this. Like, all the insults and the teasing…”
“I just wanted you to know that I don’t actually think those things about you. I like your hair, your glasses, the suit… all of that stuff. I didn’t mean to be rude about it and I just don’t want you to think any worse of me and—”
“Hey, hey, relax,” you interject soothingly, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. Jake’s thoughts slam to a halt. “I’m not going to bite your head off.”
“I know,” Jake says with a frown. Obviously he knows that.
“You’re shaking,” you observe with a frown, your hands reaching to grasp his.
“You’re not helping,” Jake says weakly. You move to pull back. “Wait, no. That’s not what I meant.” He snatches your hands back.
“Breathe with me,” you say, looking at him worriedly. Your hands are grounding him to the present moment. “You’re okay. You’re fine.”
God. Fuck. He’s making a complete fool of himself. He’s shaking. Why is he shaking?
Jake follows your lead, managing to start breathing normally again. His hands are digging into yours, probably too hard, but you haven’t said anything. Jake takes another shuddering breath and is assaulted with a moment of complete clarity: he has made a complete fool of himself today.
You have seen everything, and, somehow, you’re still here. So, at this point, why not just get it all out?
“I like you,” Jake blurts out. Your eyes are wide, your hands momentarily slackening in his grip. “More than platonically. And we don’t ever have to speak about this again, ever. I just wanted you to know, ‘cause I feel like I’ve been so obvious about it, but I kept chickening out and the whole squad’s been teasing me—”
Jake is certain he would’ve rambled for several more minutes, if you hadn’t taken the initiative and leaned in to kiss him. He’s promptly cut off by your lips on his, and for a moment, he’s too stunned to do much more than stand there. He quickly manages to break out of his trance, his hands finding your waist.
“I like you too,” you say once you break apart. That slight breathlessness to your voice is going to live in his mind forever. Then Jake processes what you just said. You like him. Like, like him like him.
“Oh,” he realizes. A bright smile rises on his lips. Jake doesn’t bother hiding it. And, because he’s past the point of redemption, he blurts out the first thing on his mind. “No more flirting with perps.” Damn it, he really never knows when to keep his mouth shut.
“He was the one flirting,” you frown.
“No more flirty perps,” Jake amends his statement. You laugh in disbelief. He smiles. Then, because he’s feeling particularly brave, he leans in and kisses you.
He must have the dopiest smile on his face, and he can’t quite convince himself to let go of you even as someone enters the room. The door swings open and you two hesitantly freeze, looking over to find Rosa standing in the doorway unbothered.
“That perp won’t shut up about you, dude,” she says to you, seemingly uncaring of the moment she just walked in on. “Annoying as fuck.”
“Tell him he’s busy,” Jake says flippantly.
Rosa sends him a mock-salute, turning on her heel and walking away.
“Captain Holt’s gonna murder us if we don’t get back,” you say reluctantly.
“Oh well,” Jake shrugs, tugging you into another kiss.
endnotes:
Captain Holt, pacing the bullpen: Where are they?
Rosa: Making out in the storage room.
Captain Holt: What?
Rosa, with a teasing smirk: Making. Out. In. The. Storage. Room.
Captain Holt: And you did not stop them?
Rosa, who went over there to spy for Gina and Boyle: Uh… no. Why’s that my job?
Captain Holt, sighing and resigning himself to an awkward conversation: Damn it, Diaz.
Rosa, shrugging: You could just set off the sprinklers.
Gina, popping up from nowhere: And give them a Notebook moment? Cuteeeee!
Captain Holt, shaking his head in disagreement: Be real, Diaz. Be real.
Rosa, returning to Gina and Boyle: Yeah, they’re definitely dating now.
Boyle: *screeches excitedly* I have to get them some dinner recommendations, reservations… *dissolves into a fit of murmuring*
Gina, who has already lost interest: Cool.
Months later:
Jake: Dad, I’ve been wanting to introduce you to my boyfriend for a while. So here goes…
Holt, staring at him with a flat expression: Jacob. We are already acquainted.
Jake, hissing: Just play along with it!
You, standing there helplessly: Hi.
Holt, impatient: Out of my office, both of you.
Jake, dramatically: It’s not a phase, Dad! I am who I am!
Holt: *sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose*
jake peralta going on a blind date that boyle set up but she’s actually completely his type
literally the love of my life tysm for the request
-
"No. No. No. No. No. No. No. And did I mention, no!" Jake says exasperatedly. "You see, I knew you would say that which is why I already set up the date with her." Charles rebuttals. He tells him your name as he taps rhythmically on Jake's desk. "She's thirty-two, she loves herself some Tay-Tay, and her favorite soup is crab bisque. I met her in my hot goat yoga class." "Ew, what." "Yeah, I'm hearing how that sounds now. But still, I think you'd like her. Who knows, by the end of the night you may just be smushing booties." Jake groans, "God, Boyle, don't say smushing booties." "Right, yeah, yep," He picks up the file from Jake's desk, turning to the man as he walks away, "Shaw's Bar, 8 o'clock."
Charles turns back around and bumps into Terry as he walks to his desk. He groans as he crushes his yogurt cup in his hand, "Damnnit, Boyle." "Sorry," He says as he backs toward the exit of the bullpen. He rapidly clicks the close button once inside the elevator, evading Terry's angry gaze. "Jake sighs as he looks back at his computer.
"So, hot date tonight, huh?" Amy asks as she leans around their computers to smirk smugly at him. "Uhm, no. I'm not going," He says, his eyes not leaving the screen as he types mindlessly. "What? Why not? Charles says she's perfect for you." "Exactly: Charles thinks she's perfect for me. Knowing him she's either some hot goat yoga-loving freak, or-" "Or actually perfect for you. I think you should give it a shot. I mean, you're constantly complaining about how horribly dull your love life is," Jake frowns, "Hey, now, I wouldn't say horrible dull-" "Yes you would, and you have. Now no more fighting, you have a date to get ready for." Jake looks at the time at the bottom right corner of his monitor and sighs, "All right, fine. But when this all goes to total shit, I'm blaming you." Amy rolls her eyes with a grin and opens the next file from her stack as Jake makes his way to the elevator.
-
The bell rings as Jake opens the door to Shaw's Bar, his free hand shoved in his jacket pocket. The warm, boozy bar air fills his nostrils as he steps toward the bar, the glass door closing slowly behind him. He looks around the bar, hoping to instantly recognize the mystery woman, to no avail.
The bell rings again as Jake asks Hank for an orange soda on the rocks. The bartender sighs exhaustedly as he pulls the Crush can out of the mini fridge from behind the bar. "Jake?" A voice asks as someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns around, and his mouth opens and closes like a fish as his brain short-circuits. "Or not?" You laugh awkwardly, "I'm really sorry about this, I was told someone would be here, but it looks like he stood me up." You sit one chair over at the bartop, sighing as you rest your chin on your fist.
"Hi," Jake says as he hold out his hand, "I'm Jake." "Oh," You breathe, "Sorry. You didn't say anything and I just thought- Y'know what, never mind, I'm probably not what you were expecting." Jake smiles, "Well, you're right there. Charles told me he met you in a 'hot goat yoga class'." You cringe slightly, "I honestly didn't even know his name, I walked into the wrong building and he started talking to me about his friend Jake." "Sounds about right." You both laugh and he moves to the chair between you.
"So, my weird friend tells me you like Taylor Swift," Jake starts and the conversation lasts hours, the orange soda on the countertop left completely ignored. "All right, time to wrap it up. The bar's closing." Hank says as he wipes the counter. "Oh my god, how long have we been here?" Jake asks him, surprised. The bartender ignores him as he moves on to another part of the bar. You look around to find the bar completely empty.
You laugh quietly, "This was fun," You say softly as you exit the bar, "We should do this again-" You're cut off by a sudden surprising kiss, Jake's hands holding your cheeks gently to keep you close. Your eyes flutter closed and take the collar of his shirt in your fists. He pulls away, mumbling out a quick 'noice' before getting pulled back into a kiss that leaves him gasping for breath.
-
ik this ended abruptly but its a school night and i have to go to bed so this is as good as we're getting today
i really hope you liked this bc jake has been on my mind for ages and i couldnt find many fics here sadly
"2 AM and I'm Cursing Your Name" ~ (jake peralta x reader's version)
sum! "Reader got home way too late and the Jake has been pacing and worrying all night..."
tw! arguing, idk jake
uhhhh idk how i feel abt this mixed feelings ngl, kinda short too
You and Jake had been fighting for just stupid things for a little bit now. It never was super important and you would just make up 30 minutes later. Not this time though.
This time it was a stupid argument, because Jake was being stupid. He fought a dangerous criminal without backup and not only that, his gun fell out in the car. Not only was this dangerous but he got away.
The two of you were upset about different things when it came to this situation, but you both agreed you were upset.
"Can we drop this? I'm still trying to catch a criminal, ya know my job?" Jake said, peeved.
You could only roll your eyes and reply snarkily, "I am literally trying to tell you about my concerns for your job! But why would you care? You don't listen!"
He returned the same eye roll, "The same concerns that I quite literally have heard all week possibly? Those concerns?"
You couldn't respond with anything other than a scoff/laugh. Absolutely speechless. Sorry you don't want him dead? Why doesn't he listen?! Why is he so stubborn?!
Your grabbed your purse, your phone, and your keys before leaving. You went out the front door without a word in reply to him. You were so pissed off you couldn't physically be around him, so you just left. You'd be back before you went to sleep, but you wouldn't tell him that.
You could hear him get half way through your name before you shut the door, calling you to come back.
He noticed you had turned your location off, so he wouldn't follow you. You stubborn bastard.
You were just walking around Brooklyn for a while, besides the smells, you forgot how pretty New York can be at night. You saw the sunset and then the buildings lit up once it was dark. You got a few pictures of it. You got some snacks while you were out, street meat and what not. But you wanted to go back home. Even though that was gonna take another hour to get home.
You got some fast food before arriving home, your favorite order and Jake's. You still loved him and wanted him to eat. You know he won't eat if he feels like something is genuinely wrong. He'll focus on fixing that rather than eating.
You got home, food and drinks in hand, walking in the front door. You saw him pacing around the living room, phone in hand, before he realised you were there.
"Babe, look I didn't understand why you were so upset until I imagined it was you. I imagined you going in without backup and without your gun and it scared me. I'm sorry and you're not in the wrong, okay? Please don't be mad at me" He blabbed out.
You started smiling halfway through his sentence, "i brought food for us?"
You held up the bag as you talked, showing proof.
He smiled back at you and grabbed the drinks from you to make it easier to carry.
You guys ate together while watching a movie. Once you both finished your food you ended up cuddling, accidentally, while watching the movie.
"I'm sorry I was sorta a jackass," You say barely above a whisper, "I was just mad that you did something that dumb and didn't seem to care"
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Hii!!! I’m just wondering if you can make a story about Jake Peralta x Yn. The reader gets into a argument with Jake about a case, Jake take sit too far and the reader gets really hurt and stops showing up to work. But eventually Jake apologies:))) - Anon💜
Sitting in the interrogation room, you looked at all the papers and photos that were scattered around you, occasionally moving one or two of them.
The door was opened at you looked up.
“Carefully I’ve got papers everywhere.”
Jake closed the door, stepping over and around all the papers.
“What you doing? Murder puzzle?” He asked.
He sat down next to, setting your cup down for you and set his own cup down.
“You put way too much much sugar in this didn’t you?”
“I may have lost count.” He grinned.
Laughing a little you picked up the cup anyways, taking a sip of the overly sweet coffee.
“Did you manage to find anything else?”
“Nope, I did find the is penny though.”
Jake dug through his pocket though and pulled out a penny and he showed it to you.
You took it from him, carefully examining it, and you got up, rummaging through the papers, pulling out a photo that was hidden under all the others.
“Jake check this out.”
You handed him the photo, then handed him the coin afterwards, letting him look at them both but you could tell that he wasn’t making the connection between the two things you had given him.
“Jake it’s the same one. From the coin collection? It was the one missing. You may have just found the thing that can help us catch our suspect.”
You jumped up, taking the penny from him and you made your way out of the room to go see if they could pull any prints of anything from it.
When you had taken it to where it needed to be you made your way back to the interrogation room, gathering everything up, taking it to your desk.
While you were working you noticed Jake was sat at Charles’ desk throwing things into the trash can across the room.
“Seriously Jake come on we’ve only got a small timeframe before this dude goes back underground for another couple of years.”
Jake looked over at you.
“Come on lighten up, you sat we have the missing piece to your murder puzzle.”
“Jake this is serious.” You snapped a little.
You got up, heading somewhere else to focus on your paperwork since at your desk wasnt going to work.
You didn’t return to your desk until you were finished with the papers, and you checked your emails to see if your results had come back yet.
And they had.
And the result made you absolutely furious.
Slamming your hands on the desk, you marched into the break room.
“Jake you fucked it up!”
He jumped a little, turning around from where he was snacking.
“What? What did I do?”
“You’re god damn sticky ass finger prints are all over our only clue, fucking chocolate? Seriously?!”
“How was I supposed to know?” He huffed.
You walked over, grabbing the bag of chips from his hand and slammed them down on the table.
“It was at the crime scene!”
“Come on (N/N) you know we’ll find something else we always do!”
“That was all we had!”
“That was all we had title of your-“ “don’t!”
Jake went quiet.
Your let out a deep sigh, running a hand over your head.
“I’ve been trying to catch this bastard for years, he takes just enough, then goes underground again until he wants more. He’s going to go underground again!”
“Why are you pinning this on me?!”
“Because you fucked with the only thing that could’ve had prints! Why weren’t you wearing gloves!?”
Jake threw his hands in the air.
“How was I supposed to know?! Maybe if you were better at looking you woulda found it first!”
“You should follow procedures!”
“This is why you’ll never amount to a Lieutenant you’ll always be a detective! Cause you can’t catch one criminal!”
“You’re off the case.” You sneered.
You stormed out of the break room, dropping the file on Amy’s desk.
“You’re my new secondary, get yourself caught up I need a new pair of eyes.”
“Hey what’s wrong?”
You ignored her and just left the precinct for your lunch, hoping some time away would calm you down a little bit.
It worked for the most part, you let Amy run point on your case for the rest of the day since she might be able to see what you couldn’t.
You never went straight home, you decided to go out for a drink or two before heading home late that night.
When you walked up to your door you found Jake sleeping leant up against your door and you sighed.
Unlocking it you pushed it so he fell to the ground and he immediately woke up again.
“I thought you were just ignoring me.” He pouted.
“I was out.”
You stepped inside, and Jake just rolled through the door, letting you close it behind him.
“What do you want?”
Jake sighed, sitting up and he rested his arms on his knees.
“To say sorry for what I said… and did…”
You walked away into the kitchen and he followed after you.
“Come on (N/N) I mean it, I really am sorry. Okay? I’m sorry I messed up your case I know how important it is to you, and I’m sorry for what I said, I know you’re worried about the exam. I even got you your favourite candy look!”
Jake rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a bag of candy that was open.
“I may have eaten some I got hungry.”
“Could’ve gone to get something else.”
“Nah, I would have just sat there all night if I had to.”
Jake set the candy down on the counter.
“You’re going to ace the lieutenants exam (Y/N), I know you are. And I went back to the crime scene, I found a new lead and currently have everything being checked over by uniforms so I don’t mess up your case again, and they’re going to pass everything on the Amy first thing in the morning.”
You furrowed your brows a little bit and turned around to look at him.
“What?”
Jake shrugged a little bit, giving you a small grin.
“I’m sorry.”
You sighed.
“I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have gotten so pissed off at you. There wasn’t a good chance we would get any prints or anything, I guess I was just stressed about all of this.”
“I get it, I do. Which is why, I also brought a copy of die hard because it’s the best film and I can’t believe you haven’t watched it, and we’re going to order so much takeout we can’t move in the morning.”
“You mean I’m going to order takeout?”
He grinned.
“You know I’m always broke.”
Laughing a little, you followed him to the living room so he could put the dvd in.
You kicked your feet up in his lap, and he laid down so he was laid on your legs, messing with the laces on your shoes, tying them together.
While he was doing that you were shoving random bits of paper in his hood for when he went to put it up later.
Jake wasn’t one to hold a hard day over anybody, and he knew he had made a mistake when he called out your biggest fear like that, which is why he was planning on doing whatever he could over the next few days to make everything easier on you before going back to his usual ways of annoying you
The officer in front of you pressed the open button but since you had your headphones on you couldn’t hear a thing. Jake walked into the elevator and you guessed he thanked the officer, he stood next to you.
He looked over at you and saw that you had no intention to remove the headphones he just waved and gave you a smile, you did the same. He could barely hear the music you were playing. Of course, Jake being the nosy person he is he wanted to know so he could bond with you.
But that didn’t happen in the elevator because the ride was short. To his luck he was partnered with you on a case and that gave him the advantage to bond with you.
“So I’ve been meaning to ask you.” He started when he approached your desk.
Your raised your head leaving the case file for a few minutes to give him your full attention.
“Yeah?”
“What were you listening to in the elevator this morning? I swear it was familiar.” He made a thinking face, like he was trying to remember the song even though he didn’t hear anything at all.
“Oh just some songs on a playlist I’m not sure.” you brushed him off because you knew his intentions and you didn’t want him to act crazy.
“Maybe you could send me the playlist?” he suggested hoping.
“When I get a breather.” You smiled then excused yourself.
After a full day you and Jake both agreed on a steak out, thinking it was the best choice to gather info before going in hot. You two were in your car.
“Why don’t we listen to something?” he of course turned on your music and the first thing he heard was ‘But I knew you, dancing in your Levi’s’
He gasped “You’re a swiftie?” with and open mouth and wide eyes.
You rolled your eyes “Yes, Jake I’m a swiftie.” You answered.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I didn’t want you to freak out but apparently you are.” you answered honestly.
“I promise I’m not freaking out.” He lied and both of you can tell.
After a minute of silence between you two.
“So you want to listen to evermore?” he asked you.
Rosa Diaz x Twin!Deaf!Reader | Request by @smoiesaustine
WC: 362
Being Rosa's twin was one of the best things to happen to you. You always felt safe and supported by your sisters side. The two of you were best friends since birth.
When you got to around six, you found out you were going deaf. You were devastated by the news, afraid it'd ruin your bond with your sister. She supported you all the way through though.
When the hearing loss grew, you had to learn sign language. Being young, it was going to be rather tough to learn it all. Your parents didn't bother learning very much of it, leaving you feeling unsupported. However, Rosa decided to learn it as well. She'd practise with you every day, for as long as you liked.
As we know, Rosa is incredibly smart, meaning that she wouldn't have much difficulty learning and understanding sign.
As you two grew up, she helped people communicate with you so you could feel more included. For those of your friends who didn't understand sign language, Rosa would translate for them.
When you got older and had the decision to get hearing aids or continue without them, Rosa helped you decide what you wanted to do.
Because of how close you were, you both pursued the same careers. You both went to multiple different schools before deciding on the police academy together.
At the police academy is where you both met Jacob Peralta. You both quickly became close friends, but Rosa often had to help him communicate with you. After meeting you, he decided to begin learning sign too.
You both graduated from the police academy, and after a while, you both transferred to the ninenty-ninth precinct together.
Everyone began trying to learn sign language together as soon as they made friends with you.
If you chose to have hearing aids, Amy would always keep spare batteries for them in her pockets and desk in case you ran out of them.
Rosa also kept them with her just in case too, she also kept a pocket-sized book that taught sign language with her in case someone needed to use it or her mind blanked, and she needed a reminder.
Overall, she was just always at your side, no matter what.
