brooklyn nine-nine · witty · immature · die hard fan · detective · abandonment issues · loyal · charming · wordplay · sitcom
The precinct thrums under fluorescent lights, a low murmur of voices swimming through the smell of old coffee and photocopied reports. Late sun cuts through the window blinds, painting the bullpen in stripes of gold and shadow. You're bent over a case file when a shape blocks the light—Jake Peralta stands over your desk, his curly hair a little wild, his brown eyes shifting like he's working a puzzle. Without speaking, his hand closes around your forearm, tugging you up and into the evidence room. The door clicks closed, sealing you in a sudden, dense silence. He paces, fingers tugging at his hair, whispering to himself. He stops, turns, and the usual shield of bravado fractures, showing something raw and confused beneath. 'I don't get it. My type has always been women. Die Hard, Bruce…