jake peralta scenarios

by orphan_account

Summary:

snippets of scenarios i was too lazy to make into oneshots or mundane situations that are js genuinely cute :>

Notes:

this is gonna be alot of chapters but they're really short so you could probably read them in like 2 hours max depending on how fast you read :)

Chapter 1: jake brushing your hair just because

you’re sitting cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through emails, when you feel it. soft bristles dragging gently through your hair. slow. unhurried. like he’s got nowhere else in the world to be.
you glance over your shoulder. jake’s behind you, perched like a focused toddler playing surgeon. legs folded, face serious, tongue tucked slightly between his lips in concentration.

“what are you doing?” you ask.

he doesn’t even blink. “shh. i’m in the zone.”

“what zone?”

“the hair zone,” he says solemnly. “do you know how soft this is? it’s like brushing… angel fluff. or cloud silk. or, like, unicorn threads. yeah. unicorn threads.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you’re such a weirdo.”

“and yet, you let me near your head with a brush. who’s really the risk-taker here?”

he keeps going, methodically working through every knot with this oddly gentle care, his fingers brushing over your scalp every now and then. it’s… calming. grounding. almost intimate in the quiet way only jake can manage when he’s not trying to fill the silence with bad impressions or theme songs.

you sigh, letting the phone drop to your lap, shoulders loosening.
“you know,” you murmur, “you don’t have to do this.”

“nope,” he says, popping the p with emphasis. “i want to. there’s something deeply satisfying about it. it’s like… crime scene cleanup, but cuter. also, it smells nice.”

“are you sniffing my hair?”

“not in a creepy way. in a boyfriend way. it’s different.”

you laugh. soft and low and tilt your head a little to help him reach.
he smooths down the last section, then sets the brush aside with the care of a man who believes he’s just won an olympic medal in grooming.

“there,” he says, leaning forward to kiss your temple. “now you’re officially the most beautiful girl in the world. sorry, beyoncé.”

“you keep apologizing to beyoncé like she knows you exist”

he shrugs, draping his arms around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder.
“worth it though.”

you roll your eyes, but your hand reaches up instinctively to touch his.
because the truth is, you’d let him brush your hair a hundred times over.
just to hear him say that again.

Chapter 2: waiting in front of the bathroom with your towel

you open the bathroom door with a sigh, dripping wet and already shivering. you forgot your towel. again.
but before you can call out, there he is. leaning casually against the wall like he’s on break at a modeling gig, holding your towel with both hands like it’s a peace offering.

“miss something?” he asks, smug as hell.

you glare. “i swear, you wait for this moment.”

“what moment?” he grins. “the one where i heroically rescue your cold, damp self from towel-less despair? yeah. i live for it.”

you snatch the towel from him and wrap it around yourself without a word.

he doesn’t budge. just leans in, presses a kiss to your wet forehead, and murmurs, “service like this doesn’t come free, you know.”

“oh?” you tilt your head. “what’s the charge?”

he smirks. “naked gratitude. preferably with enthusiasm.”

you deadpan. “you’re a menace.”

“a helpful menace.” he flashes you finger guns. “the best kind.”

you try not to laugh, but it slips out anyway, and he looks so damn proud of himself that you flick water at him just to bring him back to earth.
he gasps like you shot him. “how dare you mistreat your towel bearer.”

“next time i’m locking the door.”

“next time i’m bringing snacks.”

you shake your head and brush past him, but his hand catches yours for just a second. brief, easy, familiar. like the moment wasn’t about the towel at all. like it never is.

Chapter 3: his morning breath being terrible but kissing you anyway

you roll over into the warmth beside you and immediately recoil.
“oh my god,” you groan, yanking the blanket over your head like it’ll shield you from the assault. “your breath smells like a corpse’s armpit. like, a corpse that died in a garlic factory.”

“mmph,” jake grunts from somewhere near your shoulder, his voice muffled by your pillow. “shhh. kiss me.”

“not a chance in hell.”

“just one,” he mumbles. “a sympathy kiss. a little mouth hug. a courtesy smooch.”

“jake.” your voice is firm. “i’m not kissing you until you either brush your teeth or at least chew a mint or set your mouth on fire.”

he lifts his head a fraction, hair stuck to his forehead, one eye squinting at you through the mess.
“what if,” he says slowly, “i kiss you now… and then brush my teeth later. like a reward. like dessert after the kiss.”

you stare at him.

he pouts. fully commits. slides across the bed like a limp seal until he’s close enough to nudge your cheek with his nose.
“c’mon,” he whispers. “just one. a little smooch. just a taste. like a breakfast kiss taco. spicy. limited edition.”

you gag. “stop. that sentence has ruined my entire day and it’s barely seven a.m.”

he grins. one of those slow, half-lidded, annoying morning grins that make you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.
then, before you can escape, he grabs your face with both hands, warm and annoyingly soft, and plants a big, wet, sleepy kiss on your cheek.
you shriek. shove him away.

“you’re disgusting,” you say, wiping your face with the sheet like it might cleanse your soul.

he just collapses onto his back, arm over his eyes, giggling like a man who knows he’s won something.

“worth it,” he mumbles, already halfway back to sleep. “you’re my favorite kind of gross.”

you grumble and turn away, but he still scoots closer, even in sleep, wrapping an arm around your waist and burying his face in your neck.
you sigh, exasperated.
but you don’t move.
and neither does he.

Chapter 4: you cutting his hair because he doesn't trust anyone else

he’s sitting on the kitchen stool, a towel draped around his shoulders like a makeshift cape, head tilted slightly as you run your fingers through the mess of curls growing wild around his ears.

“you sure about this?” you ask, scissors poised midair.

“i trust you,” he says instantly. then, after a beat, “and i’m too lazy to make a barber appointment. so, like, double the motivation.”

you snort. “there it is.”

he grins, eyes fluttering closed as you comb through the top. “no seriously. i like your hands in my hair. it’s soothing. like a sexy barbershop. like if supercuts was superhot.”

“don’t ever say that again.”

“what, you don’t think that’s a great tagline?”

you roll your eyes and start snipping, slow and steady. his legs fall slightly apart, hands resting loose on his thighs, completely at ease under your touch.

“you’re gonna look like a twelve-year-old if i go too short,” you murmur, snipping around the back of his neck.

“good. then i can be a prodigy detective again. start fresh. rebrand.”

“a rebrand with less forehead, apparently.”

“exactly. mysterious. aerodynamic.”

you move to his sideburns and give him a sharp look. “keep talking and you’re getting a bowl cut.”

“oh no. anything but that. a punishment haircut? kinky.”

you smack the back of his head with the comb. “jake.”

he just laughs, curls shaking around his temples, not even flinching.

“just saying,” he grins. “you standing over me with sharp objects? a little hot.”

“you’re so annoying.”

“and yet,” he says, eyes still closed, smile softening, “you’re still here. trimming my sideburns. making me look decent for work. letting me be close to you even when i’m gross and shaggy.”

you pause. fingers gentle against his scalp.

“you’re not gross,” you say quietly.

he opens one eye. “you say that now, but wait till i sneeze mid-trim and get hair in my mouth.”

“do not.”

“no promises.”

but he stays still, even holds his breath when you lean in to even out the edges. and when you finish, he turns to face you, towel still clinging to his neck, eyes wide and warm as he asks, “well? am i still the hot one in this relationship?”

you smile. brush the last few stray hairs off his collarbone.

“you always are,” you say. “even if i did give you a bald spot. by accident.”

“wait, what-”

you don’t let him finish. you kiss him before he can spiral.

Chapter 5: long car rides filled with music and bad jokes

the song fades into another, some 90s throwback you only half-know, but jake barrels through it like he’s on stage at madison square garden. you can’t even stop yourself from laughing, because he’s committing so hard. air drumming, doing these ridiculous falsetto riffs, pointing at passing trucks like they’re his audience.

“you’re embarrassing us,” you say, trying to sound stern but breaking halfway through with a snort.

“us?” he grins, tilting his head your way. “babe, they wish they had what we have. duet partners for life.”

“duet partners? no thanks. you’re gonna tank my career.”

“career?” he gasps. “what career? oh my god. are you secretly an undiscovered pop princess? have i been dating chart-topping royalty without knowing it?”

“yes,” you say flatly, munching on another chip. “i go by the stage name… queen of tolerating your nonsense.”

he slaps the steering wheel dramatically. “unbelievable. robbed. slandered in my own car.”

you don’t answer, too busy hiding your smile by looking out the window. the highway stretches out forever, dusk leaking into night. the sky’s turning violet, and the reflection of the dashboard lights paint his skin in soft neon. his hand is still warm and steady on your thigh, casual like it belongs there.

the music shifts again; slower this time, a mellow track that wraps around the both of you. jake hums along, quieter now, almost decent when he isn’t overdoing it. you risk another glance at him, and for a second, it feels like the world’s been boiled down to this: two idiots in a car, a bag of chips between you, and miles of road ahead.

“hey,” he says suddenly, softer. you hum back, not looking at him.

“i know i joke a lot. but.. you make this life pretty fun.”

you swallow, heart doing a weird flip. “you’re still a scrub, though.”

he laughs, low and easy, and squeezes your thigh like he doesn’t mind. like he’s glad to be yours anyway.

Chapter 6: staying over

Notes:

WRITER'S BLOCK IS OVER LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

it had only been a month since you and jake started dating. long enough that you’d settled into a rhythm, short enough that every new thing still made your stomach flip.

jake was naturally affectionate. holding your hand, draping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close when you walked together. you loved it, but you weren’t as bold about initiating. not because you didn’t want to, but because you were.. awkward. you overthought every move, worried about being too much.

so when you ended up staying over at his place for the first time after a movie night, nerves crept in.

“so, uh…” jake fidgeted, trying for casual and failing. “it’s really late. like, ‘is that a vampire on the subway or just a really tired guy’ late. you could stay here? crash in my bed, i’ll take the couch, no problem.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re kicking yourself out of your own bed?”

“well… unless you wanna share,” he said quickly, then blushed. “not in a… you know, way . Just in a… two-people-sleeping way”

you laughed, nerves easing. "sharing's fine.”

a little while later, you were in one of his t-shirts, curled up under the blankets. he lay beside you stiffly, like he was afraid moving too much would scare you off.

you hugged the pillow to your chest, trying to calm yourself. jake noticed instantly.

“uh… weird question. are you hugging that pillow because it’s comfy, or because you kinda want a hug but don’t know how to say it?”

your face heated. “…maybe both.”

he scooted closer, grinning nervously. “good news: i’m basically the human version of a pillow. deluxe model. five stars on cuddle-yelp.”

you rolled your eyes but let go of the pillow. a moment later, his arm slid around your waist, pulling you against him.

“see? way better,” he whispered.

you let yourself relax into his chest. “okay… you’re right.”

he beamed, resting his chin on your head.

you shifted again, this time draping your leg over his waist and tucking your head against his chest. he froze for half a second, then wrapped both arms around you like he was scared you’d change your mind.

“wow,” he muttered. “dream come true.”

before you could answer, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his jaw.

jake’s whole body jolted. “did you just– oh my god. you kissed me first. mark the date. history has been made.”

you laughed, hiding your face back in his chest. that’s when you heard it. his heartbeat, racing like crazy under your ear.

“jake.”

“…yeah?”

“your heart’s going a mile a minute.”

“what? no, this is.. totally normal. i do cardio.”

you giggled. “you’re flustered.”

“not flustered,” he argued weakly. “just.. extremely honored.”

you laughed harder, teasing him until he groaned and tried to bury his face in your hair.

“you’re evil,” he mumbled.

“you love it,” you shot back.

“..yeah, i do,” he admitted, hugging you tighter.

you grinned against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly even out as you both settled in, tangled up and perfectly comfortable.