jake peralta oneshots

nineteen (part two)

i sadly eat my tortilla chips, sat alone on the sofa at 11:30 at night. i sigh as a commercial comes on the tv. at this point, i let out a loud groan and i pull myself up from the couch.

i walk/waddle to the kitchen to get myself a drink and to check what time it was. i sigh once again, pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge. i reminisce back to the times where i could grab a bottle of beer and drink as many as i wanted. within reason.

my eyes glance at my phone which rested on the counter top beside the fruit bowl. no new messages. not any since nine o'clock this morning which was charles reminding me to do my pregnancy yoga, which i have not done these past seven and a half months.

i remember back then, my husband was actually here, with me, guiding through this journey and being there for me. he held my hair back in the mornings, he studied up on how to raise a child with me and he even did the grocery shopping, which i was fully capable of doing but he just insisted. he claimed he didn't want to 'put any strain on me and the baby' which was annoying at times but on the whole, it was literally one of the cutest things ever.

as i'm taking a stroll down memory lane, the door handle makes a sound and starts to move. immediately thinking it was an intruder, i smash a beer bottle left on the side from when my friend visited two nights ago and point it at the door. i take a few cautious steps towards it, becoming more prepared to injure this criminal as soon as he walks in. my criminal comes in and i soon realise it was no burglar, just jake. i sigh with relief.

"i thought you were some kind of thief or something" i say, laughing slightly as i throw the bottle into the bin and go to sweep up the shattered glass on the floor in the kitchen. without saying a single word to me, jake throws his bag down on the floor in front of the door and strolls straight through into the living room. being quite shocked at how rude he was being, i start angrily sweeping up the mess i'd made on the floor. as i was hunched over and moving very quickly, a pain shoots through my stomach, making me wince. after a moment, the pain past and i stood back up again.

i place the brush back into the cupboard where it belongs and go into the living room. there, i see jake, playing with the labels of his bottle and portraying utter depression. i pull my face and go to sit next to him.

"baby? what's wrong?" i ask in concern, turning my head to get a better look at him. he doesn't give me any sort of response, he just carries on breathing and sitting there like an idiot.

"jake, please stop ignoring me. you've been doing it for weeks now and i'm sick of it" i say in a calm manner. the same reaction again. as you have probably gathered, i was pregnant and my hormones were raging so my responses to certain situations weren't as they would be if i wasn't pregnant.

"jacob peralta! you better answer me right now or else...or else... i'll walk out and leave you forever!" i exclaim dramatically, pointing to the front door. he now responded to me, shooting up from the sofa and towering over me. even after his dramatic get-up-from-the-sofa, he still doesn't speak to me and tell me what's bothering him.

"what is wrong with you?!" i ask him.

he sighs, running his hands through his hair.

"nothing. i just don't want to go into it. i don't want to stress you out" he says quietly, placing his hands in his pockets and looking down at his feet.

"jake, please just tell me. i'm more stressed when you don't tell me" i inform him, glancing up at him. he nods his head.

"there's a chance i'm going to be suspended without pay from the force for six months" he confesses, his face shrinking in guilt and worry as he tells me what's been stressing him out. i raise my eyebrows as i nod at what he's just told me. i panic.