jake peralta oneshots

two

a thump.

that was what woke me up at 3am this cold november morning. my eyes kept half closed, my mind hoping that i was just making this sound up and that i could go back to sleep.

thump. again.

my eyes were fully open now, my heart beating a mile a minute and my hands gripping the covers as tight as they could. jake remained asleep beside me, quite snores escaping his slightly parted pink lips. his arm stays wrapped loosely around my waist at all times. i glance around the room, wishing to god that i was imagining this.

i was not. i heard the same sound again.

"shit" i whisper, holding back a scared yelp. i couldn't wake jake up, he starts work at 7 in the morning, this would just make him more tired in the morning. he's also already so stressed with work, he's working a homocide case that seems to be a dead end and it's really stumping him.

i quietly climb out of bed, prying jake's arm from me. he stirs a little but then just turns to face the wall. i go into the dresser that sits at the foot of the bed, opening the drawer and grabbing jake's gun. i really shouldn't be using it, only he should use it and it's strictly meant for work but i have no other weapon on hand here.

i point the gun at the door, slowly tip-toeing out of the room. the sounds were getting louder as i walked down the hallway. i finally reach the living room to see someone stood there, rifling through the drawers in the cabinet beside the tv. before i could shoot, i feel something being pressed to the back of my head.

"drop it" a low voice demands, making me drop my gun. obviously, being the idiot that i am, the gun drops into my bare feet, making me shout out a pained 'fuck'

"y/n?" the voice asks, i now realise that it's jake. he walks around me, checking to see if i'm ok.

"the robber!" i scream at him, pointing at the intruder who was trying to escape out of the window. as jake chases this guy onto the fire escape, i wince in pain as i waddle over to the freezer for some frozen peas. i did not realise how much a gun hurts when it's dropped onto your feet. i mean, i don't think anyone has realised that but me.

i turn on the lights in the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools at the counter and placing the pack of peas on my swelling foot. i wince at first however i soon sigh at the pain-reducing coldness.

the front door bursts open behind me, causing me to quickly swivel on my chair, preparing myself for another intruder.

"he got away" jake claims, bending over and placing his hands on his knees, panting like a dog. he shakes his head and he cowers there.

"i let him get away, i wasn't fast enough and i didn't realise that it was you stood there and now there's still a criminal loose" jake whines, coming over to sit next to me. his face harbours sadness, his bottom lip poking out slightly.

"jake, you had been awake for 30 seconds, you hadn't got your bearings yet. don't feel so sorry for yourself." i say, rubbing his arm. he nods his head, muttering a 'you're right'.

"oh shit is your foot ok?" he then asks me, standing up from his stool and bending down to examine my injury.

"no, it hurts like hell" i laugh, taking the peas of to reveal a purple, throbbing bruise. jake quickly looks away, not wanting to look at the grossness before him. i roll my eyes at his childish behaviour.

"come on, let's go back to bed" i suggest, holding onto jake's hand to get down from the stool without creating any more injuries.

the pair of us slide back into bed, resuming the positions we were previously in.

"thank you so much for protecting me. i love you" i say, pressing my lips on his.

"smort" he jokes.

"i love you too"