Parent's Night

by mariadperiad20

Summary:

Jake slid off his outer jacket, wincing as he did so.

Kevin frowned. “Is all of that blood yours?”

“Yeah.”

 

Request fic!

Chapter 1

Jake staunched the bleeding with his shirtsleeve, blood marring the pattern of the flannel. It could be worse, he supposed. He could walk, so that was good - and most of his wounds were defensive ones, on his arms, with a few scattered across his face.

He should’ve just let Roger hit him. Trying to block and dodge had only made him more angry.

It was just getting harder and harder to sit there and take it. Jake was a grownup, an adult, a fucking detective for the 99th precinct. But when his dad was there… well. Jake felt like a child again.

Weak. Helpless.

Someday he’d stop feeling that way.

Someday.

Jake trudged up the steps to Holt’s front door. Roger was passed out drunk on the floor of his apartment and it wasn’t like he could go to his teammates. Holt had always said they had a guest bedroom - Jake had considered a hotel, or even sleeping in his car, over bothering the Captain.

But for some reason, he felt drawn to his home. Perhaps it was just because he could trust Holt to be discreet. Or… well, Roger had left him feeling vulnerable.

The Captain never made him feel like that.

Jake knocked on the front door, then grimaced as it left a splotch of blood on the wood. He rubbed at it with his shirtsleeve, only serving to smear it around more.

The door opened, and Jake froze up.

This was a stupid idea. He shouldn’t have done this.

“Peralta? What on earth are you doing here at this hour?” Kevin asked, before his eyebrows raised. “Oh. I see.” He turned. “Raymond! One of your proteges is here.” He turned back to Jake. “Come in, I suppose.”

“So…” Jake said, as he stepped over the threshold. “Nice pajamas.”

Kevin stiffened further. “You’re tracking blood on the hardwood.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Jake stepped out of his shoes.

“I suppose you got into a barfight?” Kevin asked coldly. “You reek of liquor.”

“I didn’t- No.” Jake defended. “I got a bottle thrown at my head. I’m sober.”

Kevin relaxed. “Very well.” He gestured for Jake to come further in. “I can do the laundry.”

“Oh, sure.” Jake slid off his outer jacket, wincing as he did so.

Kevin frowned. “Is all of that blood yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Kevin walked into a different portion of the house, calling up again. “Raymond! I require your input.”

“Where should I change?” Jake asked.

“Oh, here.” Kevin led him to a bathroom. “Guest pajamas are under the sink.”

Jake quickly stripped, changing into the fresh clothing. They were shortsleeve - part of him wanted to leave his old clothes on, but that would only arouse further suspicion. His arms were covered in scratches and bits of glass, and, as he turned to look at himself in the mirror, he groaned aloud.

No wonder Kevin had sounded so appalled. He did look like he’d been in a fight - rather than a beating. Bruising and cuts on his face, and - he leaned forward - yes, bits of glass in his hair. Blood was trickling down the side of his face from his scalp, and a black eye was rapidly forming.

Overall, he felt it looked worse than it was. It didn’t even hurt that much.

Jake picked out a piece of glass and hissed as it came away bloodied.

There was a knock on the door. “Peralta?” It was Holt. “I have been informed you are bloodied.”

“I’m fine.” Jake replied, bundling up his clothes - trying to fold it so the worst of the bloodstains were hidden - and stepping outside.

“Hm.” Holt said, appraising him.

“I’ll take those.” Kevin said, taking the clothing with gloved hands and walking down the hallway.

“It looks worse than it is.” Jake offered.

Holt kept eyeing him. “Did you get into a fight?”

“You could say that.” Jake replied, crossing his arms, and then wincing as bits of glass dug deeper in.

“With whom?”

Jake didn’t respond, instead just changing the subject. “Look, just let me borrow your first aid kit and I’ll be out of your way in no time.”

“Peralta.” Holt’s voice was firm. “You tell me this instant.”

Jake deflated. “It was my dad, okay? He drank a little more than he should’ve and… I antagonized him. I always antagonize him. It’s fine. It’s not that bad. He probably won’t even remember by morning. He rarely does.”

“This has happened before?”

Jake shrugged. “Not for a while. He’s usually not around enough to do anything.”

“I see.” Holt’s voice was cold.

Jake flinched. Of course. Holt thought he was weak. Pathetic. Unable to fight off a drunkard. What kind of detective was he?

“Sit.” Holt offered, tone switching from cold to a careful neutral. “Kevin will provide some first aid.”

“Not you?” Jake asked before he could stop himself - of course, Holt didn’t even want to touch him now.

“Kevin has more experience.” Holt replied simply.

Jake sat on the floor - he didn’t want to get glass on the couch - and Kevin returned with new gloves and a bandage kit.

Kevin frowned, and then sat on the floor - Jake internally winced again, he shouldn’t have chosen the floor after all - across from Jake.

Silently, he took one of Jake’s arms and a pair of tweezers, beginning to pick the glass out of the cuts.

“Do you need pain medication?” Holt asked, as Jake winced at a particularly painful yank.

“No, no, it doesn’t hurt taking out as much as going in.” Jake said, trying for lightness.

“Hm.”

They sat in silence for a while, as Kevin switched arms. Once all the glass was out, he pulled out a spray from the kit.

“This will hurt.” He warned, before spritzing it on the cuts on each arm.

“F-uck.” Jake cursed through gritted teeth, “That’s- yeah that hurts.”

Kevin proceeded to wrap each arm in bandages, covering the wounds with what seemed like clinical indifference - save for the slight tremble in his hands.

“It looks worse than it is.” Jake said, unconvincingly - noting the tremor in Kevin's hands, the crease of his brow, tightening of his lips.

He was angry.

Probably at him, for having come in the first place.

Jake shrunk in on himself, internally berating - he shouldn't have come, he shouldn't have come-

Kevin's hand placed itself gently on his shoulder, shocking him out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts.

"Everything is alright, Jacob. You do not need to worry. You are safe here."

Safe.

Safe?

Jake barely knew what the word meant, let alone that he'd ever had it.

But… he had come here, hadn't he? He'd run to wherever he felt would protect him, help him.

Keep him safe?

Jake felt his eyes begin to burn, and he brushed off Kevin's hand to wipe at his eyes.

"Sorry," He apologized - mostly for just existing, for placing this burden of safety on them.

"Oh dear," Kevin said unhelpfully, seemingly at a loss for how to react to Jake's emotions.

Holt leapt to to the rescue, saying, "Would you like some coffee?"

Jake shook his head, wiping his eyes and firmly telling himself he was not going to cry in front of them.

At that point, they lapsed into an uneasy silence.

"Well, you're all fixed up." Kevin said, "Would you like to stay here or go home?"

"Home, please." Jake said depressedly, vaguely aware that he didn't want to overstep the hospitality they had so kindly offered him up to this point.

"Are you sure? We have a guest room all set up-" Kevin began, but Jake shook hisbhead more vigorously.

"No, it's okay. I need to go home."

"Alright." Kevin saidnfinally, standing up - Jake doing the same.

Holt thinned his lips, clearly disapproving - Jake internally cursing himself for having stayed so long as he had, clearly he was wearing their already stretched patience thin.

"Sorry," Jake muttered, staring at the floor so he wouldn't look up and see his da- see Holt looking at him like that. "I can w- I can get home."

Holt's tone was disapproving. "You expect us to let you walk back?"

"I'd call a cab but I don't have my wallet," Jake defended.

"We will drive you back." Holt said firmly.

"But-"

"It is decided." His tone left no room for Jake to argue - not that he really wanted to, anyways.

Holt readied the car while Kevin gathered the fresh laundry - how long had Jake been sitting there? It couldn't have been that long, and yet his clothes were warm from the dryer.

Jake slipped on his familiar flannel, grateful that the long sleeves covered his bandaged arms. Without being able to see then, he almost felt… normal.

His nerves were already settling down - though the feeling of the gauze and tape was sensory hell -and he breathed a slow sigh.

"Alright, I'm ready." He informed Kevin, who led him out to the car. Holt was waiting for them, on a call on his phone. As they approached, though, he ended it - before Jake had a chance to make out the words.

He hoped it wasn't about him - then felt guilty for assuming he was important enough to be spoken about.

Holt had better things to do than worry after his sake.

Holt opened the backseat door, gesturing Jake inside, and Kevin got into the passenger seat.

Holt went around and entered the driver's side - the car already running so that it was warm in the cool air. Holt didn't seem the type to do that, and so Jake only felt more and more guilt stacking up at all the inconveniences he was causing them.

He was so ashamed.

Jake wiped at his eyes again surreptitiously, shame welling up inside of him, filling his lungs and choking his throat.

Holt drove to Jake's house, the car thick with silence - the only sound a violinist playing some complicated-sounding song from a CD.

Jake felt Kevin's eyes on him from the rearview mirror, and he tucked further into himself, pulling his sleeves over his hands and folding his arms over his chest, averting his gaze to stare out the window at the dimly lit night.

The car pulled to a stop outside of his apartment complex, and Jake stepped out of it, turning around and opening his mouth to thank them for the ride-

And he saw, a few feet away, Roger drunkenly staggering down the steps of the entrance, phone in hand.

He looked up, and their eyes met.

Jake jerked back, his legs hitting the car but his body barely registered it over the sudden searing in his arms, as though Roger was grabbing them-

The slam of a car door jolted him back to his senses - Holt was coming around the side of the car, that same tight expression on his face.

Kevin, too, was exiting the car, though he left his door open. "Get in the car, Jacob." He instructed.

"I'm not-"

"Jakey!" Roger slurred, face breaking into a wide smile. "It's good to see you! I was so worried when you ran off, I was- I was about to call you." He waved his phone haphazardly. "But look, here you are!"

"You are drunk." Holt informed coldly. "Go to your hotel and sleep this off."

"I'm fine, Mr… taxi driver." Roger squinted at him - his glasses missing from his face.

Holt didn't react, but Jake visibly flinched - calling Holt a taxi driver was… well, it was very Roger.

"I am not a taxi driver." Holt stated, voice very carefully calm, "I am Jacob's boss."

"Oh, great, the cops." Roger gestured to jake, "You called the cops? Over a few scrapes? Jesus, kid, you used to be tougher than that-"

"That is quite enough!" Kevin raised his voice, half-stepping in front of Jake.

"Who're you-"

"Oh, shut up already." Kevin groaned loudly, "I swear, you're worse than my peer Dr. Wester. You talk so much and yet you are adding nothing of value to the conversation. Are you trying to be irritating, or is that just your inherent nature?"

"I-what?" Roger's face was patching red. "Look, I don't know what the kid's told you, I'm-"

"He is not a child, and he does not have to say anything!" Holt snapped. "Your behavior and the evidence is clear enough."

"Woah, woah, evidence - who said anything about that?" Roger said hastily, staggering slightly as he shifted weight. "Jakey, come on, don't bring your old man into this."

Jake shrunk further back against the car. He didn't want to be here.

"Don't speak to him!" Kevin ordered, voice thick with disdain. "You do not have the right to speak to him!"

Roger opened and shut his mouth, eyes boring holes into Jake's head - while Jake staunchly refused to meet his gaze.

"You- you ungrateful child!"

"You are not listening!" Kevin stepped forward, getting into Roger's personal space, aggression in every line of his body. His hands clenched at his sides, as if ready to throw a punch.

"Kevin," Holt said, tone cautious as he came around to his side, "Maybe you should remain calm-"

"Oh, I'm far from calm Raymond." Kevin said stiffly, still up in Roger's face - who was staring between the three of them with indecision on his face.

Jake grabbed Kevin's arm, holding tight.

"Don't." He managed.

Kevin's head turned, and Jake managed to look at him- pointedly ignoring Roger's presence in the corner of his vision.

"He's not worth it." Jake said.

The tension in Kevin's shoulders slowly unwound. "You're right. He's not." Then, he reared back and punched Roger squarely in the jaw.

"But you are, Jacob." He informed, stepping back and shaking out his hand.

Holt was staring, mouth slightly open, at Kevin.

Jake had the urge to run to Roger's side, to ask him if he was okay, to offer to staunch the slight trickle of blood emanating from a scratch on the side of his face - but Holt and Kevin were there.

Grounding him in reality.

Roger didn't care about him.

He had to stop caring about Roger.

"Get out of here, dad." Jake said finally, voice as firm as he could muster. Staring down Roger and begging for him not to push, not to challenge - he was already regretting his words, wishing he could take them back and apologize to his father, as if anything he did could make the man love him.

Maybe it was Jake's words - or, more likely, it was Kevin and Holt glowering behind him as he said it - that made Roger listen.

"Alright, alright. I'll head to the hotel. You know where to reach me."

"Good. Go." Kevin bit off the words, pointing down the way. "Go wait for it at the gas station."

"What? Why?"

"You are not welcome here." Holt said stiffly, hand encircling Kevin's and creating a united front, Jake lingering uneasily half-behind them both.

"Fine. Fine, I see how it is." Roger snarled, "He found himself a new daddy, didn't he? Well good for him. Just a warning for you two, he's not worth much as a son. Pathetic." Spitting on the ground, Roger walked away.

Kevin took another step, as if to follow him, but Jake's hand was still on his arm and he refused to let go.

"Just leave it alone." Jake said, "I don't- don't push him, he could hurt you."

Kevin was still bristling, but obliged his request, stepping back and turning to face them.

"That could've gone better." He said, "I lost my temper somewhat. I apologize."

"No need." Holt answered, sounding practically smitten in Holt-speech. "I am pleased by your actions."

They nodded at each other, then separated hands - Jake becoming aware that his own clammy grip was on Kevin's jacket. He let go quickly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "It's alright, Jacob. I don't mind occasional physical contact. Thank you for holding me back, I was quite prepared to… 'throw down', as you might say."

"I'm sorry," Jake said miserably. And then he couldn't keep holding back his tears, coming unbidden to his eyes.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Jacob." Holt said, not unkindly.

But Jake shook his head. "I'm ruining this for you. Your night. I took advantage of your hospitality, I made you use your bandages, and then you had to drive me here and now you hurt your hand!" He felt like he was blubbering- maybe he was, but he was beyond caring, beyond having a single scrap of respect left from them. "And you had to deal with my dad, I'm sorry, he's not that bad really, he's just drunk right now-" Jake cut himself off.

Why was he defending Roger?

He didn't know. It came automatically to him.

He wished it didn't.

"First of all, hospitality exists to be used." Holt said, frowning.

"And you didn't 'waste' bandages, we used them as they were intended to be used."

"But I'm not worth that-"

"Yes, you are." Kevin said sharply. "And I won't hear you speak I'll of yourself. It is disrespectful to look down on yourself when others enjoy your presence. Are you accusing Raymond and I ofnhaving poor taste? Of lacking in judgement?"

"No, of course not." Jake said quickly - and, when phrased like that, it made more sense. If Holt and Kevin thought he was worth being around, worth existing near them… then he must. He trusted them more than he trusted his own judgement.

"And I made the decision to punch him on my own." Kevin said, voice softening. "And it was absolutely worth it."

"He had no right to speak of you that way." Holt added, "You are a worthwhile person and hisninability to be a good father is not a reflection of your value as a person." He looked like he wanted to say more, but held back- thank goodness, because any more and Jake would want to bolt. He was not good with emotions.

"Now then." Holt said, "now that the excitement has passed, let us walk you to your door, Jacob."

The trio walked up the steps, and Jake unlocked the door. "Thanks again. For… for everything."

"Of course."

"You can always come to us, Jacob. For anything, no matter how insignificant or undeserving you may feel."

Okay, that was officially too much kindness for one sitting.

Jake vanished inside, closing the door behind him, and ran up the stairs to his apartment, barely making it inside before his knees hit the floor. He curled up on himself, eyes closed, tears streaming down his face.

It was all too much.

Notes:

if there are typos.... i did this entire thing on my phone this time around at work so WHOOPS

Chapter 2: Kevin POV

Kevin was enjoying a restful evening with his husband, Raymond Holt.

They had indulged in cups of fine Earl gray tea, complete with toast - and butter! - while Rachmaninov played. The night was, given the way Raymond was looking at him over his mug, going to head in a particularly bedroom-driven direction.

Kevin was just considering whether he should speak to the color of Raymond's sweater - a fine deep green - when the doorbell rang.

The shared silence was broken, and Holt looked over towards the door, surprised.

Kevin stood. "I will answer it."

Given the hour, it was almost certainly work come calling, and given his most recent academic paper, it was likely to be that more than anything.

He opened the door, and the smell of liquor hit him like a well-researched rebuttal.

His mouth found the name before his mind could recall it, voice cool with disapproval. "Peralta, what on earth are you doing here?" Then, once the surprise passed, he noted the blood around Peralta's face and the darkening of one eye, as well as the blood on the door. "Oh. I see." Just what he needed - a drunk cop from a barfight stumbling into his home.

"Raymond, one of your proteges is here," He called out, effectively putting the issue wlaway from him - he and Raymond had agreed, work would not come home. And now work was tracking blood onto the hardwood floors.

To Peralta, he said. "Come in, I suppose." He let the inflection on suppose make his opinion on this behavior clear.

Looking distinctly uncomfortable - good - Peralta walked in. Then, trying for lightness, he said, "Nice pajamas."

Kevin bristled. He did not appreciate such drunken overtures. "You're tracking blood on the hardwood." He said shortly, intentionally holding Peralta's gaze.

“Oh. Sorry.” Peralta stepped out of his dirty shoes.

“I suppose you got into a barfight?” Kevin asked, uncaringly. “You reek of liquor.”

“I didn’t- No.” Jake said, voice sounding… off. What he had previously mistaken for a poor attempt at humor now revealed itself to be something akin to nervousness. "I got a bottle thrown at my head." Then, desperately, as if trying to prove his innocence, he said, "I’m sober.”

Kevin felt something inside his mind click into place - Peralta, it seemed, was not a perpetrator so much as a victim. Possibly a mugging?

"Very well. I can- do laundry," He offered.

Jake nodded gratefully, "Oh, sure," and took of his jacket. Kevin noticed the slight flinch and hiss of pain as he did so.

Kevin's face twisted into a frown as beneath the jacket - whose splotches of blood hebhad assumed were defensive - was revealed a smattering of cuts and gashes.

"Is all of that blood yours?" He asked cautiously.

"Yeah," Jake shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by this information.

Kevin was out of his depth. He had been aware, to an extent, that Peralta had some… personal issues that involved self-dislike, and he took pains not to show the irritation on his face that the man was so calm about his own wounding.

"Hm." He said, before turning on his heel to conceal his face as he called, "Raymond! I require your input." He took that temporary moment to school his features, steady his nerves, and approach the situation like a teacher would a troubled troubled student.

“Where should I change?” Jake's voice - oddly meek, which was out of character - and Kevin turned around to find him, seemingly unconsciously, tucking his arms around himself, blood smearing on his skin.

“Oh, here.” in Kevin's whiplash, he had neglected to be a good host - something absolutely reprehensible in his mind. “Guest pajamas are under the sink.” He gestured to a room and Jake scurried inside, door closing after him.

Holt appeared around the corner, as Kevin pulled a pair of gloves from Cheddar’s care bin.

“Kevin? Who was it?” He asked.

“Peralta was at the door.” Kevin informed, “He seemed injured, so I let him into the house. I tried to call for you but you seemed otherwise occupied.”

“I apologize, I was checking my phone - it seems that Peralta had attempted to call me and left several text messages. You are right to bring him inside.”

“May I see the messages?”

“You may.”

Holt handed Kevin the phone, which he took with a gloved hand.

Heyyyyy can I swing over?
Kind of a situation here lol
Ok I’m coming over pls dont be mad

“Hm,” Kevin handed the phone back. “His grammar is poor.”

“Indeed.”

They were silent for a moment, Holt frowning in thought. “I’ll handle his emotional state. Will you assist in the medical aspect?”

“Certainly.”

Nodding, Holt knocked on the door. “Peralta,” He said, “I have been informed you are bloodied.”

“I’m fine.” Jake’s muted reply was met with the door opening, Jake stepping out.

“Hm.” Holt said, concern heavy in the ‘h’ of his tone.

“I’ll take those.” Kevin said, taking the haphazardly folded clothes with his gloves - taking note of the cuts on the arms, as well as the glimmer of glass within them.

Turning, he headed down the hallway, hearing Holt’s tone raise in a question.

Getting the first aid kit from the laundry room, and starting the washer, Kevin walked back - hearing Jake speak, he paused - not wanting to intrude on the emotional support his husband was likely offering.

“-probably won’t even remember by morning. He rarely does.”

“This has happened before?” Holt’s tone was cool with disdain - hm, he usually reserved that specific tone for disappointment as well as anger. When had he heard it in regards to Peralta, though?

“Not for a while. He’s usually not around enough to do anything.”

“I see.”

Ah. That tone, coupled with absenteeism… It was likely Peralta’s father.

Kevin had some experience with… less than ideal parents. He felt the best approach was to pretend that he hadn’t heard this part of the conversation - after all, Raymond was the one who knew Peralta better, and if he overstepped it could make matters worse.

Reentering the living room, he saw Peralta sitting on the floor - an odd choice, but no matter. Kevin sat across from him, and he noted Peralta’s small flinch.

He opened the case, putting on fresh gloves, and picking up some tweezers. Peralta held out an arm obligingly, looking slightly nauseous.

“Do you need pain medication?” Holt asked, hovering over Kevin’s shoulder.

Kevin could tell that it was all his dear husband could do not to take over entirely, and he appreciated both his resolve and his trust in Kevin to do the job.

“No, no, it doesn’t hurt taking out as much as going in.” Peralta said with a thin smile.

Kevin made a small noise in his throat, and saw Jake’s eyes flit to him - Peralta having stared resolutely at the floor for the majority of this time.

They switched arms, and he was relieved to see that this one was not as bad. Once he had finished - and Holt checked over his work for the half-dozenth time to make sure he wasn’t missing any pieces - he pulled out the disinfectant spray.

“This will hurt.” He warned, giving him a moment to steady himself before spraying. Once he began, he tried to move quickly, to prevent the pain from being drawn out.

“Fuck,” Peralta choked out, “Yeah, that hurts.” Still, he made no move to pull his arms towards himself.

Kevin switched gloves, and pulled out a roll of bandages. Without the fixation on the glass pieces, and with the slight shine of the spray’s liquid, he noted the wounds more clearly. They were thankfully superficial, but nonetheless looked extensive and painful.

Kevin had no children, and had no particular desire for any. Still, the idea of willingly hurting his child - such as Cheddar, for example, though he was sure he loved Cheddar more than parents loved their offspring - made his hands shake with poorly concealed rage.

He bandaged up Peralta, taking care to tuck in the edges so that they would not unravel.

“It looks worse than it is.”

Kevin could have laughed, but he refrained from doing so. He sounded like a kicked puppy. Finishing off the bandaging, Kevin looked up and saw Peralta staring at the floor, gaze unfocused.

Glancing up at Holt, who was hesitating - guilt across his face - Kevin reached out, placing a hand on Peralta’s shoulder. He more than expected him to flinch, and thus was not surprised when he did so.

"Everything is alright, Jacob. You do not need to worry. You are safe here." Kevin said, trying to imbue his voice with as much calm energy as possible.

Jake’s eyes filled with tears, and he pulled away from Kevin, wiping at them.

"Sorry.”

"Oh dear," Kevin said automatically, turning to look at Holt - silently asking for help.

His husband. His dear, dear husband who he loved so deeply and so wholeheartedly, opened his mouth and said, “Would you like some coffee?”

Jake shook his head.

But the crying had stopped - thank the Heavens, Kevin said mentally, very unprepared to deal with feelings so openly expressed.

"Well, you're all fixed up." Kevin broke the awkward silence that ensued - so different from the nice silence this night had begun with, "Would you like to stay here or go home?"

"Home, please." Jake said, sounding uncertain.

"Are you sure? We have a guest room all set up-" Kevin didn’t want to force his hand, but the idea of Jake going home - presumably to the same man who just caused this harm - filled him with concern.

"No, it's okay. I need to go home."

"Alright." Kevin stood.

"Sorry," Jake apologized. “I can w- I can get home."

"You expect us to let you walk back?" Holt asked incredulously, eyebrows rising slightly.

"I'd call a cab but I don't have my wallet.”

"We will drive you back." Holt said, already reaching for the keys.

Jake looked as though he was going to argue, but Holt merely added, “It is decided,” and left it at that.

Kevin nodded, getting to his feet. “I will fetch the laundry,” He said - he’d switched it to the dryer after bandaging the arms, and now collected it, still toasty warm, and handed them to Jake.

Jake went into the bathroom to change back into his own clothes - now clean and relatively blood-free - while Kevin and Holt made eye contact. A silent message passed between them that, should anything suspicious occur, they would both be prepared to protect the young man as needed. Then, Holt turned and went outside to the car, while Kevin waited by the bathroom door.

“Alright, I’m ready.” Jake said, opening the door. Kevin looked him over - with the jacket on, he looked almost normal, aside from his face - and deeming him adequate, led him to the car.

Once on the road, Kevin kept an eye on Jake in the backseat from the rearview - noting him wiping at his eyes once more. Seeming to note this, he pulled further into himself, as though he could sink through the car seat into the trunk, or even out of the car itself.

When the car stopped, Jake got out - he turned, and then abruptly froze. The color in his bruised face drained away to leave pale white, and he took a physical step backwards into the edge of the car.

Kevin was unbuckling his seat and climbing out before he even saw what it was Jake was looking at - before he even needed to see what Jake was looking at.

Holding the door open, he said, “Get in the car, Jacob,” As he looked around, he saw a man stumbling towards them - likely the father in question.

“I’m not-” Jake began, but was cut off as a voice called out to him.

“Jakey!” The father was grinning, in a hollow pantomime of Jake’s own smile. “It's good to see you! I was so worried when you ran off, I was- I was about to call you." He nearly dropped his phone as he pulled it out. "But look, here you are!"

"You are drunk." Holt’s voice was full of unconcealed anger. "Go to your hotel and sleep this off."

"I'm fine, Mr… taxi driver."

Kevin took a step forward, the slow-bubbling anger inside of him beginning to boil over at the comment to his husband.

"I am not a taxi driver." Holt’s tone was sardonic. "I am Jacob's boss."

"Oh, great, the cops." Looking to Jake, the father continued. "You called the cops? Over a few scrapes? Jesus, kid, you used to be tougher than that-"

"That is quite enough!" Kevin spat out, stepping forward further and pushing Jake behind him, trying to shunt him into the car - though he seemed to be resisting, trying to stay up and in the line of fire.

"Who're you-" The father began, but Kevin’s pot boiled over.

“Oh, shut up already,” Kevin snarled, “I swear, you're worse than my peer Dr. Wester. You talk so much and yet you are adding nothing of value to the conversation. Are you trying to be irritating, or is that just your inherent nature?" He was bristling with anger, his hands clenching into fists - the thought of this man daring to lay a hand on Jake, let alone more than once, filled him with unbridled rage. You used to be tougher than that meant it had happened before. Enough before for there to be precedent. Enough for the father to recall it, and still feel no guilt over it.

“What?” Roger looked taken aback, as if no one had ever called him on his shit before. And, aside from Jake, maybe no one had. “Look, I don’t know what the kid’s told you, I-”

Holt stepped forward as well. "He is not a child, and he does not have to say anything! Your behavior and the evidence is clear enough."

"Woah, woah, evidence - who said anything about that?" Roger directed his gaze at Jake. "Jakey, come on, don't bring your old man into this."

Kevin, if possible, puffed up even larger. “Don’t speak to him!” He shouted, “You do not have the right to speak to him!”

Roger’s face splotched further red, and he, ignoring Kevin’s words, said, “You- you ungrateful child!”

“You are not listening!” Kevin stepped up into Roger’s space, mere inches from him now - the reek of liquor nearly making him gag. His body was in fight-or-flight mode, and he was not about to back down.

"Kevin," Holt said, approaching them slowly. "Maybe you should remain calm-"

"Oh, I'm far from calm Raymond." He felt sudden pressure on his arm, and, looking down, saw Jake’s hand grabbing on - the edges of bandages peeking through the shirtsleeve.

“Don’t.” He heard Jake say, voice wavering. “He’s not worth it.”

“You’re right.” Kevin wanted to ruffle Jake’s hair, but he refrained. As he said those words, he saw Roger begin to smile, smug again, opening his mouth as if to say some new comment.

Kevin wouldn’t let him say another word to Jake.

Winding up, he turned and punched Roger in the face. The shock of the blow sent reverberations up his arm, numbing his hand. “But you are, Jacob.” He said, shaking out his hand and trying to massage the feeling back into his hand.

He could feel Holt’s gaze on him, and Kevin’s face heated up slightly - he could tell that Raymond was… particularly enamored at the moment.

“Get out of here, dad.” Jake said as Roger looked up, one hand on his face.

Kevin made sure to look as intimidating as possible - as though he was about to speak to an unruly student.

“Alright, alright. I’ll head to the hotel. You know where to reach me. I’ll call a cab.”

“Good. Go, wait for it at the gas station.” Kevin said, not wanting to give so much as an inch to the man.

“What? Why?”

“You are not welcome here,” Holt said.

Kevin felt pressure on his own numbed hand, his husband’s fingers lacing through them and- Kevin felt his face turn redder. Holding hands in public - Raymond surely must be beside himself to do such a thing.

"Fine. Fine, I see how it is." Roger’s tone was cruel, "He found himself a new daddy, didn't he? Well good for him.” He bit the words like they were poison. “Just a warning for you two, he's not worth much as a son. Pathetic." Spitting on the ground, Roger turned and began to walk away.

This time, Jake physically held Kevin back from taking another step.

"Just leave it alone." Jake said, "I don't- don't push him, he could hurt you."

Kevin closed his eyes, took a breath to steady his anger, and then obliged. “That could’ve gone better,” He admitted, “I lost my temper somewhat. I apologize.”

"No need." Holt answered, tone rich with admiration. "I am pleased by your actions."

They stared at each other for a bit, before separating hands and turning to face Jake.

The pressure on his arm suddenly relented, Jake drawing back from Kevin.

“It’s alright, Jacob.” Kevin informed, “I don’t mind occasional physical contact. Thank you for holding me back.” Seeing Jake’s expression not change off of that guilty look, he added, “I was quite prepared to… 'throw down', as you might say."

It did not, as he had hoped, make Jake crack up. Instead, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry.”

"There is nothing to apologize for, Jacob." Holt said gently.

“I'm ruining this for you. Your night.” He gestured between the two of them. “I took advantage of your hospitality, I made you use your bandages, and then you had to drive me here and now you hurt your hand!" He wiped at his face. "And you had to deal with my dad, I'm sorry, he's not that bad really, he's just drunk right now…” Jake trailed off, frowning.

Now Kevin was the one struck silent, staring at Jake in shock at his words. Such a level of self-hatred was… well, Holt had described it but it was quite another thing to see it in reality.

"First of all, hospitality exists to be used." Holt said - his words reminding Kevin that yes, they had a job to do right now - comforting the poor man who had the misfortune of parentage.

"And you didn't 'waste' bandages, we used them as they were intended to be used." Kevin tried.

"But I'm not worth that-" Jake began, and suddenly Kevin couldn’t bear to hear the end of that sentence.

"Yes, you are." Kevin said sharply. "And I won't hear you speak I'll of yourself. It is disrespectful to look down on yourself when others enjoy your presence.” Suddenly thinking of something, he added, more gently, “Are you accusing Raymond and I of having poor taste? Of lacking in judgment?"

Sudden clarity seemed to come to Jake’s eyes. “No, of course not.” He said, crossing his arms and then uncrossing them again.

"And I made the decision to punch him on my own." Kevin said, voice soft like he was speaking to Cheddar. "And it was absolutely worth it."

"He had no right to speak of you that way." Holt added, "You are a worthwhile person and hisninability to be a good father is not a reflection of your value as a person."

Jake looked as though he was about to cry again. Thankfully, Holt once again stepped in.

"Now then." Holt said, "Now that the excitement has passed, let us walk you to your door, Jacob."

They all walked up the stairs, and Jake unlocked the door.

“Thanks again, for everything.”

“Of course.” Holt said automatically.

"You can always come to us, Jacob. For anything, no matter how insignificant or undeserving you may feel." Kevin said, fixing Jake with a piercing look.

Jake stared back, then, breaking the gaze, bolted through the door, slamming it shut behind him.

“Did I go overboard?” Kevin asked, frowning as he turned to Holt.

“No, no, it was the correct thing to say. He just needs time to process it.” Holt nodded, “However, Kevin, what you did back there was impressive. Thank you.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

They stared at each other for a long time.

“Let us return home.” Holt offered.

“Yes, let’s.” Kevin agreed.

Looking to the apartment - but it seemed that Jake was absolutely not going to exit it, perhaps not for a few days even - they got back into the car and left.

“I appreciate your assistance with Jacob’s wounds.” Holt said, as he drove.

“Of course.” Kevin considered Jake, softening slightly. “He is much more… palatable than I had previously believed.”

“Indeed. He does take time to grow acclimated to.” Holt nodded, “He is worth getting to know, however.”

“I agree.”

"Do you think we should have let him go home by himself? He won't do anything... stupid, will he?"

"Yes, I believe that if we had pushed him it would have backfired. We need to meet Jacob where he is, not try to force him to meet us." Holt said wisely, "And Jacob needs space right now to experience his emotions without fear of our judgement. Only by doing that will he be able to process our words and hopefully begin to heal."

"I see." Now it was Kevin's turn to experience enamoration with his husband. "You are very well-spoken tonight."

Holt glanced at him as he drove, a small smile appearing on his face.

When they arrived home, Holt paused to send a message to Jake.

Dear Jacob Peralta,
If you need to take the next day of work off, please tell me.
Sincerely,
Captain Raymond Holt

“Short and simple,” Kevin nodded, reading over Holt’s shoulder, “I think this is a good message to send.”

“Excellent.”

They walked up to their front door - Kevin pausing as he noticed the blood smeared on the front. Holt saw it as well, and he stopped, a deep frown etching across his face.

“I’m sure Barbara from the HOA has already written us up for that,” Kevin said, trying to lighten the suddenly dour mood.

Holt nodded, face breaking into slight amusement. “You are likely correct. Barbara is a demon from the depths of the PTA.”

Kevin laughed, and then they went inside, closing the door after them. He’d worry about the blood tomorrow.

Their night may have been altered by Jake’s arrival, but… Holt was looking at him with that same, impressed look from when he’d punched Roger, and, well…

Kevin could worry about everything else later.

Notes:

listen they are worried but also they love each other and have to meet jake where he is.

Notes:

decided to go more melancholy this time around :T

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 39 of Foray into B99