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Chapter Text

Jake was tired. He was sick and tired of being the only reasonable adult to his parents yet a perpetual child to any other reasonable adult. You would think for a person who had learnt to be so mature as he tended to his parents' mental wounds that he himself would grow to hold that same level of maturity. Jake would think that too. He thinks the fact he has yet to become a thoroughly mature adult (which he knows everybody judges him for) is the reason he can’t tell anybody about his father taking over his home; he longs to be seen as strong and selfless, and functioning adults are.

Roger Peralta has come to Jake again. Roger had gone and attacked the world again, his ego too big for his boots, and the world had left him beaten and burnt dry. In Rogers' entire life he had only had one stable job, which he had somehow completed the necessary training for; that was being a pilot, and Captain Peralta was surprisingly good at it. However, no flying ability would have ever prevented Roger from going too far and crashing into the ground. The captain had gone too far and had made one too many flight attendants uncomfortable; his company had fired him, and due to Rogers own stupidity, he had left himself desolate. That was why he was staying in Jake’s home. It was not due to deep love of his son and a longing to be closer; it was because he simply had nowhere else to go and relied on Jake to fix him up like he always did. Jake wondered why he even let his father in anymore. He knows he should slam the door and let him drink his sorrows away somewhere else and take advice from some other drunk at a bar, but Jake would never have it in him to turn his father away because, as stupid as it was, he wants his dad. He wants to be held, be wanted, and be a good son. A son a father could brag about, and if that meant letting his alcoholic father into his apartment where Jake can try to make him better, he does.

It was only a week in when Jake was in half a mind to stop being a good son and to hang himself or his father, maybe even the both of them at this rate. Jake’s apartment is a mess; there are beer bottles strewn everywhere, making his already unkempt flat look like a frat house, and the perpetual stench of vomit from how long Roger would let it stew made Jake want to throw up too. It was on the third day Jake decided to say something other than comforting words to his father.

“Dad,” Jake started, the worry already seeping into his voice.

It's a sight to see one's own father curled up on the sofa drinking their 6th beer in between the occasional outbreak of tears. Roger turns to look at his son.

“Yes, Son,” Roger says, sounding distant.

“You need to start looking for a new job. You can’t drink all day,” Jake tells him, trying to sound stern.

The way Roger looks at him after that statement makes him want to keel over. Rogers's mouth hangs agape as he stares at Jake; he makes his way towards his son. Jake backs up slowly, trying to put space between him and his father, who is too drunk to be acting reasonably.

“How,” Roger starts

“How dare you!” He sputters.

“I am your father; how absolutely dare you. You are meant to care for me, look after me.

Roger Peralta storms around the room in a rage; his hands shake as he paces. Jake pushes himself into the wall of his living room, immediately regretting ever talking to his father on the matter. He should have known better; his dad is unstable at the best of times, and he should have never approached his dad drunk.

Roger Peralta angrily screams into the air. His beer bottle getting slammed down in his rage

“I am your father.” Roger screams again.

Before Jake can intervene, Roger breaks down and sinks himself to the floor. Although Roger always seems to float around with an air of confidence, the truth is he's fragile. Always has always been. As much as Jake wishes he had a father who at least had some emotional strength, he knows he would be wishing too much. So he does as a good son does and sinks to his knees in front of his father.

“Dad,” Jake says softly.

“What?” Roger spits out between sobs.

“What happened to caring about mental health?” Roger starts

“I’m a good father. I am. Why can’t you care back?

The way Roger looks at Jake breaks any form of resolve he had. This was his father. He wouldn’t be here without his dad. Jake shushes his dad softly as he reaches out to lightly pat his dad’s forearms to comfort him down from the mental breakdown he was having on his living room floor.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Jake is always first to concede.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just worried about  you." Jake speaks softly to his dad, trying to not make his sobbing any more

Roger doesn't say anything else. It takes him an hour to stop sobbing, and when he eventually does, he curls up on Jake's dirty floor and sleeps. Jake is overcome with a sense of relief the second his dad is unconscious. He doesn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing for the next couple of hours. It’s a comfort to not be filled with so much worry in his own home, even if he knows his reprieve isn't going to last long. Jake walks into his room to grab a blanket from his cupboard and chucks it over his dad, making sure it covers all parts of his body before walking into his own bedroom and chucking himself into his bed, giving up on doing tasks such as brushing his teeth or undressing because of how exhausted the night's affair had left him.

Jake’s alarm rings violently at 6:30 am, forcing him out of his comfortable sleep. Jake takes a long sigh before properly coming to. His first thought is for his father. He wonders if his dad is still asleep on his floor next to the beer he put down in his alcohol-induced rage. Jake pulls himself out of bed, his body still beating with bone-deep tiredness. Jake hasn’t slept well since his dad arrived. Usually Jake wouldn’t wake up until just before 8 am. The precinct wasn’t far, so he had the time to wake up late and get ready at his leisure. But today he woke up at 6:30 am. He knew he could get into the precinct from as early as just after 7, and for once in his life, Jake couldn't wait to get to work. It had started to feel like the only time he could breathe, surrounded by his coworkers, who he could now call friends.

As Jake finishes getting ready, he walks into his living room to check on his father. Roger still remains curled up next to his beer bottle. In the early hours of the morning, his father could almost look happy. His brown hair looked golden in the sun. Jake absentmindedly runs his hands through his hair as he leaves his living room and makes his way off to work.

Jake arrives at his work a little after quarter past 7. The people who had worked the night shift stared at Jake as he walked in. Nobody from day shift ever came in this early. Jake ignored his peers' looks as he picked up a case file and sat at the break room keyboard, as his desk was still occupied by the night shift guy. His morning was spent quietly poring over his work in between the much-needed coffee breaks. As much as he tried, Jake’s attention was slipping; the words in the files were mushed, and he was itching for any form of distraction. He thinks that's the reason why Jake immediately noticed and Kevin and the captain arrived at work at 8:30 am on the dot. The two immediately notice Jake sitting on the floor bending over the break table. He doesn't know how they manage to notice him so quickly given the fact he is tucked away in the break room. The two men stare at him, their expressions seeming slightly harder than normal, but that could all be Jake's imagination.

Holt walks into the break room. Although Jake is slightly worried about the integration he's about to get, he CAN'T wait to have a person to talk to. Jake let a lazy smile take over his face as he looked up at Holt. The smile does become a little bit tighter when Kevin enters the room. He knows what Kevin thinks about him. It becomes a little bit harder to let loose around Kevin when he knows he's at risk of being judged.

“Jacob” Holt says in his classic booming voice.

“Yes, Cap.” Jake shouts back, excitement leaking into his voice for getting to talk to another person.

“What are you doing here so early?” Holt questions him.

“You know me. Always on that grind.

He hears Kevin scoff from behind Holt. It makes Jake want to curl into himself and cry.

“Jacob. This isn't your usual behaviour. What time did you arrive? Holt’s voice seems to get colder.

“Oh, I haven't been here long at all.” Jacob waves his hand to brush off the question.

The room falls into silence for a couple of seconds. The tension takes Jake by the throat and starts choking him out.

“Well,” Kevin coughs out.

“I will get going. Raymond I will see you later.

Kevin turns on his heels and walks away. Kevin still spares a look at Jake. It’s an indescribable look, but the way Kevin’s eyes bore into Jake’s own makes Jake need to turn away and hide. He turns so his back faces the elevator and quickly picks up his folder so he can bury his face. Holt hovers in the room for a moment longer before informing Jake the guy at his desk is packing up and he can take a seat somewhere more comfortable.

Jake settles himself at his desk as the rest of his coworkers flood in. They all eyed him suspiciously, but he quickly managed to distract him with his continuous talk. Despite arriving as early as he did, by the time lunch has rolled around, Jake has done absolutely nothing. He tries and tries to get through any amount of work, but his mind just won’t settle on the task. He walks around every single one of his coworkers' desks to talk to each and every one of them until they force him away. He spends the most time with Gina; she doesn't want to do his work as much as he won’t. His lunch break is a godsend; he's so relieved to not have the pressure of looming cases in front of him. It’s not like today is even a good day at work for Jake. He's not far enough in any of his cases to go interviewing, and he's got too many cases to get any new ones. It’s killing him to be stuck inside.

By the time Jake's lunch break is over, he is buzzing with energy. Jake decides Boyle is the next victim he’s going to bother, much to Charles’s dismay. It starts with Jake pulling up a chair to Boyle’s desk and trying to “help” him with his cases before it moves to Jake completely rearranging the desk in front of him and completely taking over Charles’s personal space. Jake can tell it’s annoying the hell out of him, but he just doesn't stop. It's so relieving to hang out with his best bud like this; he can almost forget he's at work. Almost.

It’s not until Holt comes stomping over that Jake realises he's fucked up. He’s done absolutely nothing today aside from annoying all his coworkers and making them stop working. He feels the guilt hit him like a truck and consume his whole body as he looks up at Holt’s face. It’s as unreadable as ever. He wants to cry.

“Jacob” Holt gives a sharp sigh.

“This behaviour cannot continue. You have spent your day disrupting all your hard-working peers so you may take part in childish antics. Return to your desk now and complete the work you’ve been neglecting.

The screeching of his chair against the office tiles and the looks on everyone's faces as he settles down at his desk make Jake want to bolt. His legs thrum with the urge to run away, but he holds his body down and forces it to stay put at the mercy of everyone's harsh eyes.

“I expected more of you, Jacob. I am disappointed,” Holt says.

Jake has spent his life being a disappointment. He barely scraped by school and the police academy; his police work always came out sloppy. Jake and disappointment are actually synonyms. He can cope with that, but not when it comes from Holt’s mouth. This is a man he looks up to, somebody he could pretend in another life was his father, but Jake had messed up again, and now the only man he ever could associate with a paternal comfort sees through his cleverly crafted mask of humour and ego to see what Jake was hiding. What Jake has always been. A disappointment.

And as he watches Holt return back to his office, Jake turns and looks into his computer screen and studies his features. Everybody always said he had his father's face; Jake didn't often see it, but in moments like these, where his emotions sit heavy on his chest and the light glistens off his teary eyes just right, he can see his dad looking back at him. The same man who had taken it too far with his coworkers and had lost his job. At this moment Jake can only see them as one of those fake magic coins. The ones that have identical faces on both sides so that you would never lose a bet. Jake thinks he and his dad are one of those coins. They are different in theory, both on different sides of the coin, yet they are identical. No matter how you flip it or what face comes out on top, they are identical, and as identical creatures, they will always meet the same fate.

That's why Jake thinks he's such a child. He thinks it's something that runs through his tainted blood. In all senses of the word, he is his father's son. Jake spends hours staring into his computer screen, not looking at the work of how he was moving his mouse but instead looking at his face or what he thinks is his face; he looks for his mother's features but can’t seem to find them, not that his mother was any better of a person.

It’s not until he sees the lift open to present Kevin that he realises all his other coworkers have gone, and soon it will be just Jake again. He tears his eyes from his haunting reflection long enough to see Kevin retrieve Holt so they can go home together. Jake notices the sideways glance he gets from the two men; it feels judgemental, so he quickly turns his attention back to his computer screen to give the allure of productivity.
“Jacob” It’s Holt speaking.

Jake wonders why Holt is choosing to even speak to him at all. Hasn’t he made his opinions clear?

“Why are you still here at this hour?” Holt questions him.

Kevin looms over Holt’s shoulders, making Jake feel infinitely small under the gaze of these men.

“Well Holt, considering the comment you made today, I’m catching up on work.” Jake doesn't mean the snarkiness in his voice.

He can pick up on the slight quirk of Kevin’s eyebrow at the way he speaks.

“Jacob, if you had completed this in the day, you would have been able to leave early.” Holt tells him

The silence makes Jake curl his fingers into fists under his desk. He can’t help the rage bubbling through his body. He hears his sigh escape Holt’s throat.

“Go home, Jacob. It is late. Finish it tomorrow. Holt makes it sound like an order. It only serves to make Jake angrier.

“No offence, Captain. I’m an adult; I’ll do what I  want.” Jake says through gritted teeth.

“And I, as your captain, should push you in the right direction. Go home. Holt’s voice remains calm.

The rage under Jake’s body makes him shake as his anger bubbles over. He knows he’s going to regret his actions, but he doesn't have it in him to stop it.

“WHY AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU?” Jake shouts; he flinches at himself.

The look on the two men's faces tells Jake he needs to run.

“Fine, I'll go. I'll go home. I thought you wanted me to work, but I guess  not." He spits the words at Holt's feet.

Jake grabs his stuff and storms towards the elevator. He can feel the shame already forming in his body. He doesn't really care. He briefly hears Kevin call out after them, but it doesn't stop him. Jake’s body thrums with his innate behaviour to run.
Run

Run

Run

He keeps running until the rage in his body turns into sweat all over his body, and the upset in his body forces him to turn into somewhere safe. He knows, however, he doesn't have anywhere safe, so he goes to the next best option. Home. He doesn't know what's more draining: running or the idea of going home.

When he makes it to his dingy flat, the smell of the flat makes his knees buckle. He leans against his front door to support himself from the suffocating weight of his day and the weight of his flat. He thinks about collapsing in his bed again; that's all he does now that his dad has moved in.

“Jakey” His father calls out happily, appearing in his hallway.

“Come watch a movie with my buddy.” Roger tells him

He can tell his dad is drunk, but he doesn't care. Jake just wants to curl up next to his dad while a movie plays in the background. It sounds peaceful and domestic. It’s what Jake needs.

“Sure, Dad.”

Jake, as his dad, sticks on some action movie. Jake's never heard of, but they've always watched action together, so the movie feels fitting. Jake lies with his head on the arm of the sofa; he lets his eyes droop and cuddles his arms into his side. He could almost imagine it was his father hugging him. His dad makes light conversation with him, and he can settle into the calmness of his home. He wonders to himself why he doesn't consider this a safe place anymore.

“Jakey look” His father pulls his attention to the screen.

“It’s a dirty cop. Hope that isn't you; it probably is, though. That all cops ain't it. His father laughs.

Jake allows himself to laugh along.

“Well, Dad, the pilot just crashed, so I suppose your profession wasn’t much either.”

Jake laughs at his joke, trying to keep the banter alive. He stops the second he notices his dad isn't laughing along with him. Dread pulls into his stomach.

“What the fuck, Jake. How dare you take the piss out of me? YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED!” Roger screams.
Apologies immediately start falling from Jake's lips, but they fall on deaf ears. His dad stands up in a rage once again; it takes nothing to trigger his dad into one of his rages.

“After everything I’ve been through, you paint me a fool.” His dad moves to angry whispers.

“No, Dad. It was a joke. I didn’t mean  it." Jake speaks softly.

“It doesn't matter.” His dad tells him before going on another one of his long-winded rants

Jake's own thoughts drown him out. He sits on that sofa for God knows how long until his father wears himself out and doesn't notice when Jake moves.

Jake takes the opportunity to run from his home this time and takes his second run of the night. That's all he knows how to do nowadays. To take off when things get hard. He probably learnt that from his father. The cold air of New York knocks the air out of him as he runs around the concrete streets. The city is never asleep, but in the night he can allow himself the illusion of nobody sane being around to see him. He can pretend that the streets of his home don't exist to hurt him. It's what must be hours into Jake's run before he realises he fled without keys or a phone. It's a problem, and he knows it, but he's tired. So, so tired, he needs to sleep and deal with his problems tomorrow.

Jake wanders around looking for somewhere to spend the night, and it's in his wonder he ends up in front of the precinct. It's stupid to settle facing his work, and he knows it, but it doesn't stop him. He sits on the street opposite his job to rest. Despite his argument, there today the precinct is the one place he knows he's safe. They may judge, but they would never harm, and it's full of people he loves. Jake knows it is the love he associates with the building that guides him to sleep. It's been a long time since he's felt the love he feels for the people at his job, but that's okay. As he falls asleep, Jake imagines the warmth emanating from the precinct lights and the love of the people he thinks are friends.

Chapter Text

The cold rushing air is the first thing Jake takes notice of. It’s like a deep plunge into freezing water. It shocks him to his core and forces him into some sort of awareness. He remembers yesterday's actions and the feeling of guilt that was buried by sleep and has now been forcibly moved to his heart by the weather. He also remembers that he must be situated in front of the precinct. God, he’s so embarrassed he has fallen asleep in front of his work. Jake prays that nobody has seen him curled and weak on the stone-cold floor.

His prayers are immediately thwarted by what must have been a malevolent divine spirit or god, because as the cold forces him to wake up, he hears a voice talking to him. Jake kept his eyes closed for a second more to preserve any dignity he had. The sleep was still clogging his ability to think, and he hasn’t yet recognised the voice calling out to him. He wonders if he can just keep his eyes closed and hope that the voice goes away, but it doesn't. It gets closer. Jake jumps up when a hand grabs his shoulder. The calloused hands feel gentle on his shoulder. His eyes flick open, and the breath from his chest escapes him, and he struggles to pull it back. He pushed himself back, and the hand pulled back quickly from his shoulder. Jake's eyes scan the scene in front of him, and it makes him wish he had never run from anything at all; he sees Kevin crouched in front of him and realises the voice was him. Jake looks to his left to see Holt next to Kevin; his stare takes Jake apart piece by piece. Jake’s breath still hadn’t returned, and the two men in front of him weren’t helping with his new deep-seated panic.

His body thrums the way it always does, telling him to run, but he isn't sure that his legs would work. He knows it’s embarrassing to be frozen on this pavement in front of his captain, but he doesn't have the time to focus on the embarrassment; he needs to get away. His hands scratch against his pavement, and he readies himself to start pushing up; he knows it's gonna be his arms that will support him, not his legs. As he starts to push, he feels Holt’s strong hands pushing him back down; the hand only serves as an accelerant to the fire that is his panic.

“Jacob” It’s Kevin speaking to him.

“You should stay seated. I believe you are on the verge of a panic attack and are not in a state to move, Kevin speaks to him as if he is a child.

The words make his hands shake. He wants to go. His work is right in front of him; anybody could see. People must have already seen him.

“Jacob” Holt calls

Jake doesn't want to listen anymore.

“Son,” Holt’s tone becomes infinitely softer.

“Can you breathe for me?” Holt asks him.

Despite the fact he feels like the whole world is crushing him, he tries. The sound of exaggerated breathing guides his own breaths and gives him something to follow. The harshness of the pavement and the guiding is the only reason Jake could even consider becoming calmer. The cold stops feeling so consuming, and for some reason the air around Jake started caressing him instead of suffocating him. His eyes become infinitely clearer, and he can properly assess where he is and how the hell he’s going to get out of it. Jake meets Kevin’s concerned eyes; he's always been easier to read than Holt, and Jake can pick up on the alarm on Kevin’s face. He moves his eyes over to Holt, whose face is as stoic as ever, but he notices a hand lying close to his knees, waiting to reach over to Jake.

Jake knows that he's managed to dig himself into deep shit.

“That was a tad embarrassing.” Jake awkwardly laughs.

“Well, Cap, we better get to work. Sorry to keep you, Kev.”

This time when Jake pushes himself up, they don’t stop him despite the clear shake of his legs. The two other men move to stand next to Jake. Their position feels suffocating as they seem to magically surround him.

“Jacob. You will not be going to work. We need to have a serious conversation.

Well, fuck. Jake pushes himself backwards as he tries to think of ways to escape.

“We can’t be missing work, Captain. Like you said, I need to get my stuff done.” Jake tries to awkwardly laugh again, but it only serves to elevate the tension.

Kevin gives Holt a sharp look. The rage directed at Holt is obvious enough for even Jake to start feeling guilty. Kevin quickly turns to Jake, his hands slightly balled into fists.

“Jacob. Raymond clearly did not understand the situation he was dealing with. Kevin takes a deep breath.

“Come. The car is around the corner. We will take you back to our home. Kevin turns for Jake to follow him, but he quickly interjects, feeling bad about all the hassle he's caused.

“Oh no, Kev. It's fine. I wouldn't want to be taking you or Holt away from your jobs. I’m completely fine. Look in a-ok.” Jake says feeling panic arise in him again

Kevin clicks his tongue.

“Oh nonsense, Jacob. We found you passed out on a pavement after you displayed abnormal behaviour last night. Everything is not  fine." Kevin’s words come out harsh but not unkind.

“Besides, Holt already informed both of our places of work that the three of us would be absent today.” Kevin says as he starts to walk again.

“You already called out.” Jake practically whispers in his guilt-ridden voice.

Kevin answers with a simple “Yes.”

Together the three of them move towards the car. Kevin leading the way and Holt behind Jake herding him like a dog herds sheep. Jake felt terrible; he had managed to take away time from the jobs of Holt and Kevin, and they were away to take him to their home, so he was intruding within their space too. The thought made him feel sick.

Jake sat in the back of their car and immediately stared out of their window. The car started to move quickly, and it quickly fell silent. There was no radio or music, and the car ride felt scarily reminiscent of the few car rides he had shared with his parents. They wouldn’t often drive together as there was far too much risk of the car crashing. Jake didn’t know if it was because of the fact he was surrounded by Holt and Kevin after the most embarrassing night of his life or because it was eerily similar to days with his parents, but he felt a fat tear run down from his left eye. He wiped it quickly, but for some reason they just kept coming and coming fast. He bites his lips to try and control any sounds of crying escaping his mouth, and Jake rubs his eyes so hard he thinks he’ll get friction burns on his tear ducts. As Jake rolls his eyes into the back of his head to stop the tears, he notices the face of Kevin in the front view mirror staring at his tear-streaked face. The stare looks to be one of emptiness, but Jake can pick up on something deep and paternal in the bottomless pits of Kevin’s grey eyes. He watches carefully as Kevin’s carefully trained hands reach into his work bag and pull out what Jake presumes is a mint humbug and pushes it back behind his seat and offers it to Jake. That simple action almost makes Jake cry again. He picks the sweet up with as much care as it was passed to him; his fingers slightly brush the palm of Kevin’s hand, and it reminds him of the way his dad's fingers would brush his own when his father would take sweets from him. Jake eats the seeds, and the mint pierces his tongue and allows him to centre himself for a while. The tears keep running, but they slow, and his worries about any sounds escaping his mouth and distracting Holt from his driving.

They arrive at Holt’s house in a timely manner, quicker than Jake thought they would. He takes a deep breath before stepping out of the car, knowing that once he was in the house, he had no escape from prying eyes and even more prying questions. The two older men reach the house first and swing open the front door before looking back to Jake and waiting for him to catch up to the door. They let Jake walk in first and alarm him a little bit; he's never felt truly safe with people behind his back; he always tries to be the last person in and out. Jake slips his shoes off, and Cheddar runs up to the door to greet his parents and guests. Without thinking, Jake kneels down to talk to the dog and stroke his fur. The texture is calming against his skin that's electric with anxiety. He realises about a minute into his time with Cheddar that he was probably being incredibly rude, and he snaps his head up guiltily. It’s only Holt that is watching him, and as Jake stares up at him, Holt stares down at him softly. It’s a sweet sort of smile that Jake has never seen on Holt's face before (not that he ever sees many expressions on his captain's face).

“I’m sorry.” He tells Holt and starts to retract his hands from Cheddar's fur.

“It’s perfectly fine, Jacob. Cheddar seems to enjoy the attention, Holt says softly.

Jake looks back down at Cheddar, who seems perfectly content in the position he's in, and it makes Jake smile. Maybe the first smile he's had all day. He hears the footsteps of Kevin and looks up to see a glass of water being gently pushed towards him.

“Hear Jacob. You are at risk of being dehydrated. Kevin offers

“Thank you.” Jake now realises how thirsty he really was.

He practically chugs the glass; the cold water feels good against his raw throat, probably from the amount of crying he did last night, but he doesn't really want to think about that. He stays close to Cheddar as he drinks, and the second he's done, Kevin quickly takes the glass off of him and brings it back to the kitchen. He hears Holt clear his throat to grab Jake’s attention.

“Jacob, why don’t we move to the living room?” Holt tells him

Jake quickly casts a glance down at the dog in front of him before moving to stand

“Cheddar may come with you if that makes you more comfortable. I am sure he will. He can hear the smile in Holt’s voice.

Cheddar will definitely make him more comfortable and true to Holt’s words when Jake stands up. Cheddar waits expectantly at his feet to see where they move to next. Holt waits until Jake is ready and waiting before guiding him into the living room. It’s as clean and pristine as Jake remembers it to be from the one time he had been here before. Holt motions Jake to take a seat on the couch, which seems far too lifeless for Jake's taste, but he knows better than to comment on his opinions on the furniture. Kevin walks into the room again holding a tray this time, and when he looks closer, Jake notices three cups of what he presumes is tea. He watches as Kevin carefully sets the tray down on the living room table and starts to distribute the drinks. He picks up the cup of tea and a glass of water before bringing both over to Jake. He passes over the water to Jake’s battered hands and places the tea down next to him.

“Drink more water; you seem to be in need of it, and tea is a dehydrant,” Kevin tells him matter-of-factly.

“Thanks, Kev,” he whispers, despite not meaning to.

Once the glass of water seems secure in Jake’s hand, Cheddar jumps up on the couch and snuggles into Jake's side. The action makes Jake melt slightly, and it does make him feel safer. He watches Kevin go to give his dog into trouble but sees Holt put a calming hand on the knee of his husband and gives him a look that stops Kevin in his actions. Jake looks between the two men to see if he's done anything wrong, but Kevin shakes his head, pardoning him of any worries of wrongdoings he'd done. He looks back into Cheddar's unknowing eyes; he isn't aware of the situation Jake had been thrust into. Jake was glad he had somebody at his side who couldn't understand the weight of what he had done. It was so crushing it started to feel like Jake had committed the new 8th sin.

“Jacob” Holt calls and thrusts Jake's attention onto his captain.

“We need to talk.”

The words make him feel sick. He places his water down at risk of him breaking the glass from how hard he's constricting it. Jake knows this game; he knows how to handle “talks.” Straight face. Keep your hand clasped. Don’t let them know how you feel. He’s remembered these rules ever since he was a child and his mother told them to him in one of her only moments of complete lucidity. Jake gives a small nod to signal he was waiting for whatever they had to say to them. He wasn’t ready to hear their sharp words, but the limbo of not knowing is worse.

“How have you been lately?” Holt asks him

And god, what a stupid question that was. Jake was expecting to get lectured, screamed at, or hell, even fired for his misconduct, but they instead chose to ask the stupid question they did. How was Jake? He didn’t really know. He wasn’t fucking good, that's for sure. He was upset, sure, but that didn’t truly explain how he felt. He was haunted by his emotions, yet if they weren’t there, he would be nothing at all; he’d be lifeless; however, in the dead of night, Jake thinks being lifeless would be better than this. After all, isn't purgatory better than hell?

“Fine.” Jake says the gritted teeth

Answering the question makes him mad. He doesn't get why they would waste all of their energy on such stupid questions with stupid answers.

“Fine.” Kevin mimics back

“Fine.” His anger must be prevalent in his voice.

“You don’t seem fine,” Holt says questioningly.

“And how do I seem to you, Captain?” Jake snaps

He could feel himself starting to lose sight of the appreciation he holds for Kevin and Holt, and he feels it replaced with strong rage. It’s painful for him to just sit here stewing. Part of him wants to scream at them for taking them away from his job, and another part of him wants to scream at himself for taking them away and worrying them with their STUPID questions. He hates the situation he’s ended up in. He can practically feel himself heating up with rage as he strokes Cheddar to try and calm down.

“You are acting unusual. Out of character, Holt says.

“What has happened in your life to change you like this?” The way Holt looks at him fuels his rage.

“My life is none of your fucking business, and for your knowledge, Captain, everything is fine,” he snaps.

“I think you're lying.” Holt sees his eyes looking as if they could see through Jake.

Jake pushes himself up from the couch, ignoring Cheddar's pleading eyes, and turns to the two men in his rage.

“How fucking dare you.” Jake seethes.

“Thanks for the drink, Kevin,” he says bitterly.

Jake storms to the front door as he hears Holt call after him; he doesn't care. He’s so angry with them, both of them; screw being nice and keeping his emotions secret in talks. He needs out of there, and he wants to know. He struggles with the lock a little bit; the embarrassment only serves to rile up his rage. He can hear footsteps behind him and feels his hands start shaking; he's not sure from what. When he eventually gets the door open and makes it to the first steps of the porch, he hears Kevin’s voice from behind him.

“Jacob,” Kevin says softly.

And it must be the tone of Kevin’s voice that makes him stop in his tracks and fall to sit on the steps, but all his anger is gone. All Jake is left with is his own gaping sadness; that's all he's usually left with. The tears hit him hard, and he’s left struggling with full-blown sobs. It’s hard to breathe from the way his lungs spasm. He thinks at this moment he must look like his father. His dad was like this too; when he was a kid, he’d spend his childhood listening to his dad sobbing at the door of his childhood home, begging his mom for forgiveness over yet another affair. When Jake became old enough to have a place of his own, it would be his doorstep he could hear the sobs from, and now it was Jake on the doorsteps sobbing his eyes out.

He doesn't notice Kevin sitting down next to him, but he feels the comforting pressure of a hand on his head. He allows himself to be held against Kevin’s shoulders as he tries to match Kev’s breaths. He can barely make out Kevin's voice from above him but can pick up on the comforting tone of his voice and the occasional sweet word. It calms Jake down relatively quickly. He can’t remember a time he's ever been held like this, not even in his childhood. He leans into Kevin’s shoulder to take all the comfort he can get while this moment lasts. He knows it will be over soon, and Jake will only be left with the memories of this moment.

“Talk to me, son.” Kevin talks like Jake will break.

Jake could hear the hesitation in Kevin’s voice before he called Jake son. He knows Kevin’s doing it because he’s heard Holt say it before, but it makes it all the more comforting. Jake speaks in sobs as he leans against Kevin’s shoulder.

“My, my dad’s moved in with me.”

He feels a comforting hand rub his back, and he curls in closer to Kevin. He briefly thinks about the fact that anyone could see them, but he tries to ignore the way it makes his chest feel tight.

“What's your dad like?” Kevin asks

Once again, another loaded question

“He’s just” Jake takes a deep breath.

“I don’t know how to describe him; um, he’s a drunk. Can’t handle his emotions, kinda like  me.” Jake tries to explain

But somehow Kevin gets it; he’s not sure how, and Kevin must not get in fully, but somehow Kevin understands enough for him to take Jake to comfort him again.

“Jacob. If I know anything about you, it’s that you are a kind and thoughtful man. I am sure you are very different from your  father." Kevin rubs Jake's back again.

The words cause the biggest sense of relief Jake’s ever had, and although the rational part of him knows that Kevin has never met Jake’s father, the words are the best thing Jake’s ever heard, and he’ll cling to those words for the rest of his life.

He didn’t notice Holt walking over to Kevin and him, but Holt sits down next to them and places a heavy hand on Jake's shoulder. Holt and Jake share a look. They try to understand everything that they need to do now and what will happen tomorrow, but neither can find the words to verbalise it. Kevin wraps a protective arm around Jake (so very out of character) and gives him a squeeze before turning to Holt.

“We will have to go round to Jacob’s apartment to take care of some business.”

Shit.

Chapter Text

Jake loses track of time sitting on those stairs. The hands holding him close never more falter. They stay holding his shoulder and rubbing his back in an effort to ground him to this moment, but they all know they can’t stay here forever. There are things to be done, some things Jake would prefer untouched, but he knows that is Kevin’s plan. After what could have been minutes or hours, Jake feels the arm around him slightly loosen and tap him to bring him back to attention.

“We should go inside and eat something,” Kevin tells Jake.

Holt jumps in.

“Jacob, when was the last time you ate something?”

Uh-oh. Jake thinks for a second; it must have been lunchtime yesterday with Boyle. By the time he had gotten in from work, his dad had intercepted him, so he didn’t eat.

“Jacob” Holt probes

“Maybe like yesterday's lunch,” Jake nervously laughs.

He hears both Kevin and Holt sigh in sync.

“Up,” Kevin says as he takes Jake’s hand to hoist him to his feet.

The three of them all return to the house, completely ignoring the argument that happened last time they were all in here. The memory of it made a repressed guilt pool in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey, uh, sorry about that whole little blowup I had earlier.” Jake says into the open, but it’s mainly meant for Holt.

The way Holt looks at him with such kind and forgiving eyes just makes him want to start crying all over again. Despite Jake thinking there would be tension haunting the air, it was instead a fuzzy energy uplifting the air. This wasn’t what Jake was used to; if an apology was ever said to his child when he was still living at home, the air would be so weighed down it felt like his lungs were crushed until it was broken by an inevitable yell. This wasn’t expected at all.

“It is quite alright, son. It was an expected reaction, Holt says calmly.

He hears a passive-aggressive cough from across the household.

“And a certain somebody shouldn’t have tried to push in the way he did. Raymond” Kevin whispers his husband's name.
He figures Kevin must have been informed on the whole situation after his angry outburst yesterday at the end of the workday. It makes his stomach churn with embarrassment to think about.

“However, let us not dwell on the past. I have removed the cold meats from the fridge to make sandwiches, Kevin says, his tone still snarky.

Despite Kevin’s blatant callout and general passive aggressiveness, he can see Holt smile at his husband with love in his eyes. What a funny thing love is. The three men move towards the kitchen, and Jake surveys the food out he can use to make his food. In true Jake and Kevin fashion, they had practically everything to make a sandwich with; they were always so prepared. Jake settles on making himself a cheese and jam sandwich. It was the food of his childhood, and he looks to the memory fondly; he cuts his food into a triangle, the best way to cut a sandwich. As he moves to the dining table where Holt and Kevin are sitting, he sits down with his food, and noticing Kevin and Holt giving him funny looks, he quickly scans his food to check if anything is wrong. Holt and Kevin jump in quickly to save Jake from second-guessing himself again.

“That's an interesting choice.” Holt comments, trying to sound positive.

“It isn't something I would think of, but as long as you enjoy it,” Kevin tells him.

Jake smiles; he realises that they're talking about his sandwich, and his smile deepens. They are trying so hard to be supportive over a sandwich. It’s a sweet thought; they care about him deeply enough to try and be supportive over a sandwich.

“It’s my favourite childhood sandwich. I used to eat it every lunch, Jake muses over the memory.

He watches as the two men smile and hears the fondness in Jake’s voice. His childhood wasn’t always so bad; he had memories he liked to look back on despite the dark cloud that waits just in the distance of his happy recollections. Despite a nagging in him that tells him to not speak, Jake can’t help himself, the call to let himself talk about his memories is too strong.

“It became my favourite one night when I was like 5; my mom was having one of her party nights, and I was still up at like 1 am, and I was super ungry.” Jake speaks through bites

“So my dad, despite being super drunk, went into the kitchen to try to make me some food, and he just wasn’t thinking and made me a jam and cheese sandwich.” Jake laughs at the memory.

“When he gave it to me, I lost it laughing, and we both tried it, and ya know, it wasn’t bad at all, and ever since then it’s been my favourite.” He smiles as he finishes his story.

When Jake looks up from his food, he notices the expressions on the two men's faces. Kevin looks concerned, but he’s trying to mask it; for somebody who is usually so stoic, he really can’t control his face. It stumps Jake for a bit. He doesn't understand why Kevin would be scared for him over the memory; it’s a sweet one he has of his dad. One of the only ones where he's looking after Jake and not the other way around. Holt, however, has a soft smile plastered on his face. He seemed to enjoy Jake's story; Jake’s glad he got the opportunity to share it; he usually never does and clams up before he ever brings it up. It’s nice to have somebody to listen to a story about his dad. He smiles back at Holt; he’s happy to share his joy.

The second Jake is done with his food; Kevin whisks his plate away. He offers to help with the cleanup but is quickly waved away and told to continue his conversation. He turns back to Holt, and the two quickly strike up a conversation. It's nice to engage in such a calm conversation; it's been a long couple of weeks without them. Now Jake has finally not been in a high-intensity situation for over an hour and has gotten some food in him; he is tired. So tired, and his back hurts like hell. That's what he gets for sleeping on a pavement.

“Well,” Kevin starts.

“I suppose we better make a move. We have something to be dealing with after all.”

Shit. Jake forgot about that. Well, more accurately he was hoping Kevin would forget. The thought of them coming to Jake’s rundown, trash-filled apartment, where his father would most likely be surrounded by his own sick and beer bottles. The fear curls around his spine and makes the hairs along his body stand on end.

“I suppose we should.” Holt agrees.

Holt and Kevin turn to look at Jake, who must look petrified. He is though; Jake is fucking petrified. Despite spending his days in high-stress situations, he has never felt his skin more alive with the thrum of fear before. He feels Kevin give him a caring touch on his shoulder to try and calm his nerves; the touch on his shoulder only makes it burn.

“Come along then, Jake. I promise we will sort it.

The smile on Kevin’s face does nothing to calm him. No promise he’s ever made to him has been held. It’s a fact of life for Jake. Promises are a turn of phrase, not really a promise at all. The three of them all get ready to leave in silence. Jake is never quiet; the feeling of being too afraid and out of it to speak is even unnerving to him, but he guesses from the looks from Holt that it’s unnerving for him too.

The car ride over is torture. Every time the car moves forward, Jake’s happiness and feeling of safety move backwards. It’s horrific to be going to Jake’s apartment, his home, knowing what waits there for him. As lovely as Holt and Kevin had been since they found him, Jake can’t help but feel like it was one big facade that would soon break. They would soon know Jake like not many others had. Jake was himself because of his dad, the messy, childish dad he had but loved. It haunts him slightly to be so like his dad. Every childlike behaviour Jake's ever made, every stupid joke, echoes of Roger Peralta, and soon Holt and Kevin would see that. See what made him him. In every other circumstance he can play his behaviour off, but Jake knows he can’t hide himself and his dad in his broken home.

Jake was too stuck in his own thoughts to even notice the car pulling to a stop in his street. It’s not until Holt's voice snaps him into awareness that he looks around and notices his surroundings. He also noticed the concerned eyes of Holt and Kevin. Dread pulls in his stomach.

“Son,” Holt calls softly (or repeats Jake doesn't know how long he's been stuck in his head.

He sees Holt stare in the car mirror. He’s scanning Jake. Holt picks him apart with his eyes, and Jake wonders if somehow he can predict what's in his apartment from the look in Jake's eyes alone. He feels bare in the backseat of this car. He wishes deeply that he had the strength to turn them away. To scream and shout and protect himself from the inevitable crash. But Jake is not a strong man; in fact, he’s incredibly weak, because the small childish part of Jake hopes that they’ll see the wreckage and stay, which is a stupid hope, but his hope nonetheless. Jake wants to be raw and open and have somebody stay, especially Holt and Kevin, because he really does see them as dads. It’s silly but true, and that's why he's letting them in, because he longs for them to know him and choose to stay.

He sees the open hand of Kevin come forward and squeeze his knee to comfort him. It’s only now struck him how odd Kevin has been today; he’s not a touchy man by any means, but today he's somehow been reaching towards Jake and holding him at just the right moments. How strange; just yesterday he was convinced that Kevin hated his guts, but somehow he can’t find it in himself to believe that anymore. He reaches for the hand that rests on his knee and squeezes it back. He’s not ready by any means, but he wants to try for them.

The three men slowly exit the car; a newfound weight hangs around them. Jake casts his eyes up to his flat window; the curtains are drawn tightly shut. He thinks about his dad in his flat, completely unaware of what's about to happen, not that Jake is better off. He wonders what's going to happen too. They get up to the door, and Jake becomes aware that when he ran the other night, he forgot his keys. He looks at Holt and Kevin sheepishly.

“Sorry, I don’t have my keys; I’ll buzz.” The awkwardness is palpable in his voice.

“It’s quite alright,” Holt tells him.

The buzz of the system seems to go on forever. Jake swears it doesn't usually take this long. He wonders for a moment if his dad won’t let him in, if he’s too drunk or asleep to come and answer the door, or if he simply doesn't care enough to let him in. It wouldn’t be the first time Jake’s dad has denied him entry to a home. However, he eventually hears the gruff voice of his dad through the crackly speaker.

“Who’s it?” Roger slurs his speech.

Great, his dad’s day drunk at what he guesses is 12/1 pm.

“It’s me, Dad. Can you open the door?” Jake says through a sigh

He waits for the sound of the opening buzz before pushing against the stiff door. He holds it open for Holt and Kevin, trying to be as courteous as he can before they have to meet his dad. The three of them start the climb to his door; every step he ascends fills him with fear. If his dad’s already out of it, then God only knows what reaction they risk from him. He hopes he’s in one of his good moods. It’s 50/50 with his dad; sometimes the drink makes him happier and more agreeable, yet sometimes it only acts as fuel to the raging fire of his anger and sadness. Roger Peralta is an unpredictable man; the drink only makes it worse.

By the time they reach Jake’s door, they can hear Roger fumbling around with the lock on the other side of the door. His hands must be shaky; he can practically hear the rattle of ageing bones. Eventually the door swings open to reveal a very dishevelled Jake Peralta in an old worn-down shirt and pyjama pants. He isn't even fully dressed.

“Jakey, my boy!” His dad shouts and tackles him round the shoulder to mess up his hair.

Despite the pain caused by the reaction, it's a relief to know his dad’s in a good mood. It might even go better than he thought. As he’s pulled into the flat, he's hit with the horrific smell of the flat. Even though he's used to it, he is hyperaware of it because of Holt and Kevin. It must smell horrible to them. He wishes he could turn his face out of his father's grasp to look.

“Okay Dad, come on now.” Jake speaks as if speaking to a child.

He slowly peels himself out of his father's stronghold and turns to look at Holt and Kevin. The two men are scanning the home, and although they hide it well, the crinkles in their noses don’t go unnoticed. He gestures towards the two men.

“Dad. This is Captain Holt, my boss, and his husband, Kevin Cozner, Jake says slowly.

“Hello,” Holt greets with an open hand ready to shake.

Kevin stands behind Holt, waiting with a judging eye. His dad giggles.

“Oh, we are bringing work home now. Were you offended by my comment, Jakey? Roger says, his eyes never breaking from Holt’s

Jake cuts Holt off before he can respond.

“Of course not, Dad. Come on now, let's sit you down.” Jake says never letting his tone sour

Jake takes his father's arm and walks him into the living room. It’s worse than any area in the flat. Roger had thrown up last night in his drunken rampage and had never cleaned up. God, this is a massive embarrassment for Jake. Jake sits his dad down and runs to go get a towel and disinfectant. He turns to Holt and Kevin.

“Sorry about this. Sit down; I just need to clean up a little. Jake waves them to the couch.

Holt raises an eyebrow at Jake. He hears Kevin scoff. It’s filled with disbelief and rage. Kevin spins to face Jake's dad who had now moved to be lying down with his head propped up on the arms of the couch. Roger takes long swigs from a beer, and Jake worries for a second he’ll choke.

“You’re going to let your own son clean your vomit.” Kevin’s voice is harsh and judgy.

The way Roger slowly puts down his beer and faces Kevin makes Jake want to throw up on top of his own dad's vomit. He leaves the room to quickly grab the cleaning supplies before practically running back into the room. He feels a sense of need fall onto his shoulders. He’s spent his childhood being the mediator for his parents. He can be the mediator once again. That's how it's always been.

“Whoa now, no biggie. I don’t mind. Sun duties” Jake does his awkward laugh before quickly falling to his hands and knees to start scrubbing.

“No.” Kevin and Holt speak at the same time.

“It is absolutely a biggie,” Kevin tells him.

Kevin saying the work is biggie makes Jake want to giggle a little bit, and he would if he wasn't scrubbing vomit. Kevin bats Jake’s hand away from his cleaning the vomit on the floor. He looks up at Kevin, feeling the familiar bubble of rage under his skin. He knows Kevin wants to help him, but he wants to help his dad. It is his dad after all.

“And another thing, Mr. Peralta.” Kevin spits the end of his sentence while addressing his father.

“I assume it could only be you leaving beer bottles all around the place. Don’t you have any respect for your son?”

The room is so silent he could hear a pin drop, not that a pin would be able to cut through the tension clouding the room. Jake’s body feels like it’s on fire, from the rage he just had or complete fear he doesn't know.

“How fucking dare you.” Roger shouts, thrusting himself up

“How dare you enter my boy's home and take the shit out of me. Who do you think you are?

Roger stumbles towards Kevin. It’s certainly an embarrassing sight to see his drunk father start squaring up to Kevin.

“Dad!” Jake jumps up, and to his dad's side, he sees Holt move to stand in front of Kevin but gets moved out of the way.

“No, how dare you take advantage of your son, your kind and loving son who is letting you stay here.” Kevin argues back.
His kind words practically make Jake melt and forget about the situation at hand; nobody has ever defended him to his dad before. This is when Roger swings to face Jake, his face an angry red.

“Jake”

“Kick them out. Why the fuck have you let them stay this long? They're making a mockery of your old man, Roger shouts again, taking a step toward Jake.

Kevin laughs before walking in between Roger and Jake. Holt remains hot on his heels, but not saying anything, he observes, ready to step in at a moment's notice.

“You're the one making a mockery of yourself,” Kevin whispers coldly.

Jake, despite all his love for his dad, can’t help but feel that Kevin is right. What had Jake done wrong in this whole scenario? Let people into his own flat? Because that is the only thing he's done. Roger can see his face and knows that he’s lost Jake, so he lets the waterworks fall freely. Roger Peralta is not the kind of man to lose quietly. His dad starts sobbing, and it pulls at Jake’s heartstrings. He knows why his dad does this; hell, he’s dumb but not that dumb, yet it still hurts him to see his old man cry. Jake’s dad wasn't always a deadbeat. He had his moments, as everyone does, and occasionally Roger could find it in himself to be a good man, just not right now.

“Jakey!” His dad cries.

“How are you letting them do this to me?” The sobs grow louder.

“I’m your dad, not them.”

“Jakey. Am I not  enough?" His dad sounds pathetic.

It’s those words that break Jake’s reserve as he reaches forward for his dad, hoping to get him to stop the sobs that tear from his chest, but as he reaches forward, he feels a gentle yet firm grip on his arm prohibiting him from moving forward. He looks up to Kevin, who is now holding his wrist, and watches as Kevin shakes his head. He squeezes Jake’s wrist before letting it fall to Jake’s side. Kevin takes a strong step forward and looks at Roger Perlata with empty eyes.

“You need to leave,” Kevin says in a stone-cold voice.

Jake doesn't interject to save his dad from being kicked to the streets; he simply watches as his dad looks at him like he can finally see Jake for the first time.

“Jake. I have nowhere  else." The words fall from his dad's lips.

Jake stops listening to any more words around him; he thinks only of the shake of Kevin’s head. How he stopped Jake at that moment. It replays over and over the broken record of memory, never stopping as the kerfuffle in front of him happens, although it feels extremely far away. He takes a slight notice of Holt leading his father away; he doesn't notice enough to react, however. The thoughts he had were already far away, leaving Jake with the low buzz of an emotion he could not place. He focuses on the sick smell of his apartment; he doesn't know why. Maybe in a weird, fucked-up way it reminds him of his dad, not that he’d been gone long, if he was even gone. Jake doesn't even take much notice as he's pulled into the softest hug of his life by the hands of Kevin. The man who stuck up for him. The only man who had. It was that thought that made Jake sob; he's not even sure where he found the strength to cry, but suddenly he could barely breathe through tears and body-shaking sobs. He clung to Kevin’s shirt as he cried like a child. He feels cool hands run through his knotted hair on account of it not being brushed.

“Shhh, Jacob. It’s quite  alright.” Kevin speaks as if he is a child.

He picks up on Holt entering the room and standing just to the right of Jake’s shaking body; he too chimes in every so often with sweet words in an attempt to calm Jake down. He eventually breathes enough for him to find the ability to speak.

“I’m so sorry.” Jake cries.

“Whatever for?” Holt asks.

“Bringing you into this, breaking down like this. God, I must look like my dad now. Jake speaks; his own words cut him like the deepest wound.

“Oh nonsense.” Kevin lovingly chides

“You were his son, and you've been trying your absolute best. He took advantage of your love and forgiveness; you have every reason to cry.

The words only serve to make Jake cry harder. Here Kevin was, a man who he hadn’t known for very long, cradling and comforting him when his own dad couldn't even have been patient with Jake to save his own life. The realisation made him sick and made him feel safe at the same time. They stand the way they do until Jake stops crying and his breath stops hitching. He lays his head against Kevin’s chest, savouring the warmth. They stay in silence until Jake interrupts with a harsh yawn. He feels Kevin turn to look at Holt before Holt carefully grabs Jake's shoulder.

“Come on, son, let's go home.”

Jake looks up to Holt, confusion painting his red eyes.

“This is my home?”

“We couldn’t let you stay in this; besides, our house is always a home to you,” Kevin tells Jake, squeezing him once again.

For the first time in a long time, he feels the warm ooze of paternal love course through his bloodstream. He knows for once he has men he can fall back on who will love and protect him from the pain he has faced. He feels hope for once, especially in knowing that if he could, he was going to be like Kevin and Holt, not his biological dad.