Chapter Text
“Dad!” Roger Peralta’s head shot up as his son walked through the door after just having returned home from school. “What are you doing here?”
“What, I can’t visit my own son?” Roger asked jokingly, standing up to slap Jake on the back, hard. “And look at you! You’re all grown up!”
It was true. Well, obviously, it had been one and a half years since Jake had seen his dad, of course he had grown.
He’d had a growth spurt over the course of last summer and had arrived at his first year of high school a one and a half feet taller along with the tiniest little beginnings of facial hair.
He was practically an adult already at this point- and he was only in grade nine!
“No, of course not, dad! I’m... I'm so glad you’re here.”
Jake leaned in to hug him before getting pushed back, his dad warning, “Woah, son, I’m glad to see you too, but what did I say about ‘hugs’ and all that bullshit?”
Fuck, right. It had been so long since he’d seen Roger, Jake had nearly forgotten.
“That they’re… only for women and children.”
“That's right. And you’re no child, and you sure as hell ain’t no woman! You’ve got a you-know-what, for God’s sake!” Roger let out a belly laugh, reaching towards the table to grab his drink- a Guiness beer bottle with water rivulets running down the side, as if it had just been taken out of the fridge.
After a quick sweep around the room, Jake noticed a few more bottles. And a few more.
Quite a few, actually.
“Damn, dad, you had six beers!?”
“Well, your mother left ‘soon as she saw me pull up, so I figured, ‘eh, screw it’, y’know? She’s not here to judge me or yap around about some bullshit, y’know?”
Jake felt his muscles tense. His dad always did this.
Made fun of his mother, the woman who raised him when the man who was supposed to always be there for him left when Jake was seven, only showing up on-and off at random times during the year, often when Jake least expected it or wanted it. Like today. Or tomorrow. Or pretty much any day, actually.
(His dad wasn’t the easiest to be around.)
“Uh… right,” Jake muttered, glancing down so his dad couldn’t see how his eyebrows were drawn together and his jaw was clenched.
Not that he would have been sober enough to notice.
“Here, want a sip?” Roger walked over to the fridge, pulling out one of the many beers inside (which all must have recently been bought by Roger- Jake’s mom hadn’t drunk any alcohol since he left) and handing it to Jake.
“Uh, no thanks, I’m… good,” Jake mumbled awkwardly.
Truth be told, he was much too scared of becoming like his dad to be drinking any alcohol anytime soon. He had known Roger had gotten addicted at a young age because of some messed-up friends and had no inclination of doing anything of that sort, just in case.
Maybe if he was in the right headspace and knew the right people when he was older, he could try alcohol, maybe even enjoy it. But for now he wasn’t about to risk it.
“Oh, c’mon Jake,” Roger punched him in the shoulder, and ow, that hurt.
Jake said nothing, only glaring at him half-heartedly, because this was his dad. Sure, he wasn’t the most reliable, but he wasn’t doing anything to purposefully hurt Jake.
Usually.
Jake placed his backpack down on the floor, not bothering to take his homework out with the thought, “I’ll do it later.” “Seriously, dad, I don’t want any,” he replied.
“C’mon, Jakey, don’t be such a fag!”
Jake flinched at the slur.
It was times like these when his dad was over where he tried his best to ignore those parts of him that felt fuzzy and safe whenever he saw Duke Whenhs, a boy from his english class, that part of him that said, “No, you liked Chelsea Sanders in grade seven, you’re not…gay.”
Jake told himself he wasn’t that. He would never stop telling himself that.
Still. He had to stick up for the people who were, because there was nothing wrong with it, nothing at all! Really!
Jake just knew he couldn’t like boys, but other guys could! And that was fine! So, his dad wasn’t allowed to say that, he decided.
“Dad, you can’t just say stuff like that, y’know,” He said, making it sound like he was half joking so his dad wouldn’t get annoyed.
Roger did anyways, of course.
“Oh, what, so now I’m suddenly not allowed to say ‘fag’ anymore? God, you fucking pussy.” Shit, he sounded really annoyed now. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking?
(Jake knew from experience that was often even worse.)
(God, he wished his mom was here.)
“I mean… no?” Jake shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, to play off what he had said as a joke, like “haha, I don’t care that you’re using a historically homophobic slur in a homophobic way, we're just two dudes joking, right?”
“What the fuck do you mean, no?” a shiver ran through Jake’s body as his father’s voice raised at him.
No, he needed to stop this, now.
“Kidding! I’m kidding! I’m not some-” Jake hesitated and gulped. “-Fag who doesn’t think you can say-” he gestured vaguely, not wanting to say it again. “-that.”
“Ha!” Jake sighed in relief as Roger hit him on the back again, harder than before this time, but still friendly, at least. “You got me there, kiddo. Good one.” He took another long sip from his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
“Heh. Yeah.”
“So, how’s school been, son?”
“Eh… y’know. Not great,” Jake admitted. Not wanting to bring up how he was still getting bullied about his dad leaving seven years ago, he said, “I really only have Gina, and I haven’t been doing that well in math.”
“Gina?” His dad whistled. “Whoo-eeh, she’s a fine one, alright.”
Jake felt physically ill at Roger’s implication.
Gina was like a sister to him, and he didn't like the way his dad was talking about someone a third of his age.
“Oh, we’re not… dating.” He looked down and began fiddling with his thumbs.
“Better make a move soon, or somebody’s gonna snatch up that ass, y’know?” Roger laughed as Jake just nodded sharply, praying for the conversation to be over soon.
Luckily, his dad gave him a topic change immediately after, though it wasn’t much better. “So. Tell me about math, kid. I’m pretty good at it, y’know. You gotta be smart at that shit to be a pilot.” Another sip of beer. “You said you’re bad at it, right?”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “I don’t really understand it right now and I just failed my last math test, so…”
"Wait, what?"
"I failed my last test," Jake said, shrugging. "Pretty bummed."
“You? Fucking… failed a test?” Roger seemed to completely shut down at his son’s words; gone was the joking, grinning man from before.
“Yeah, and I studied for it and everything and still failed!” Jake complained before turning to his dad with a goofy grin. Maybe now they could finally bond? "I'm planning on talking about it with mom, see if she could maybe help a bit, but since you're here-"
WHACK!
“Ow!” Jake rubbed the back of his head where Roger had hit him. “What the fuck, dad-”
“Save it, you idiot, I don’t want to hear it,” Roger growled. “You’re ruining any chance of a good future for yourself because you can’t solve a simple math problem?”
“Huh? I- What?”
"God, that bitch has been going too soft on you,” Roger muttered to himself before standing up from his seat to look Jake in the eyes. “D'you know what my parents did to me when I used to fail my tests?”
Jake certainly found out that night.
Roger left in a huff after nearly beating Jake to the point he was knocked out, leaving Jake to clean up his cuts and bruises, the shards of glass from broken bottles, and the blood on the floor.
His mom never asked what happened when she showed up the next morning.
Jake wasn’t sure she even noticed.
He wouldn’t lie, though- the beatings, the swearing, and worst of all, the “I’m disappointed in you”s from his dad were certainly a good motivator to pass his next math test.
“Welcome, peasants, to… the seventeenth and a half Jibby Jab games!” Applause and cheering filled the room as Gina began her announcement. “Today, our captain is gone at some meeting, and so… the games commence. Our games today have been planned and prepped by Jake, who will also be making sure we finish up before Holt gets back so no one gets fired. Round of applause for Jake!”
Jake grinned and basked in the attention as more cheers filled the room.
“You should all really be doing your jobs, y’know,” Terry complained. “You're police. People could be doing crime out there right now, and-”
“Way to bring down the mood, Sarge,” Rosa said, leaning back in her chair with her feet on the table.
“Yeah, Terry!” Jake agreed. “We don’t have time for your responsibility! Gina, what’s the first challenge?”
“I’m out,” Terry said to no one in particular, grabbing his paperwork and leaving the room as Gina explained what their first competition would be: Who could do the best cartwheel while wearing a skirt?
“With or without pants underneath?” Charles questioned.
Amy cringed. “With. Obviously!”
“Urgh,” Rosa said, grimacing at Charles.
Jake laughed at his friends and leaned back in his chair, feeling quite content with himself, to say the least.
He had planned everything out perfectly- he had known Holt would be gone since two weeks ago when he overheard a phone call, and had been planning the games ever since.
He got up from his chair as Gina called up each of the participating members- him, Amy, Rosa, Charles, and Hitchcock- and pulled out the large board with all their pictures on it, along with a red marker for the elimination process.
“Skirts on!” Gina exclaimed dramatically and Jake and the others pulled on skirts. “Me and Scully will be judging your cartwheeling abilities.”
“Why are you wearing a skirt? You’re not playing,” Rosa asked Gina.
“I’m wearing this skirt because I look awesome, Rosalina.”
“Sure, Gines,” Jake joked, pulling on his own blue-with-sparkled skirt. “Hey, how do I look?”
He gave a twirl and tried to ignore the voices in the back of his head, the one that said Men don’t wear skirts, and especially the one that said, I like how this looks.
“Great, babe,” Amy said, kissing him on the cheek and showing off her own purple skirt. “Now prepare to be destroyed.”
“Alright everyone, we’ll start with Hitchcock.” Gina turned to her co-judge and stage whispered before returning back to her normal voice and facing the crowd. “Scully, do you have 911 dialed just in case this doesn’t go well? Okay, great. Everyone, may the odds be ever in your favor!”
They were three Jimmy Jab games in, and Jake was having such a great time he almost forgot that keeping track of time was his job. He patted Charles on the shoulder as his friend went to join the disqualified members (Hitchcock and Rosa- Hitchcock for medical reasons in the first round and Rosa for breaking the “no knives” rule in the second).
Jake glanced at the clock just to make sure they were doing okay, and sure enough, he was pretty sure they still had an hour left, seeing as it was only 2:43 and Holt didn’t return until 3.
Yup, an hour to complete the games. That was lots of time.
Jake grinned as Gina explained to him and Amy that for the last challenge he and his girlfriend were going to have to see who could squirt a packet of Go-go squeeze the farthest. Jake nudged Amy and she looked up and frowned in what he thought was supposed to be menacing, but she really just looked too adorable to be scary.
Saying this to her, all he got in response was her sticking out her tongue and saying, “You can’t be talking. You’re the least intimidating man I’ve ever met.”
“What about Charles?”
“Touche.”
“Alright, Jimmy Jabbers! Stop jabbering and start squirting- oh, God, I sound like Charles!”
Jake laughed as Charles gasped in offendance. “Yeah, you do, Gines.”
“C’mon, let’s do this, Gina!” Amy said defiantly.
“On your mark… get set…” Jake gripped his Go-go squeeze and prepared to shoot it, grinning even wider.
“Go!”
And that was when the elevator doors dinged open and no one other than Captain Raymond Holt walked out.