#i projected it into his thoughts when i wrote jp calling him daddy in my current wip you're welcome

[blackleatherjacketz]

Snake Charmer

Negan (The Walking Dead) x Jake Peralta (Brooklyn 99)

Summary: Jake questions Negan about the death of a young pizza delivery boy and bites off more than he can chew.

Word Count: 1463

Notes: This is for @annablack1102 and her “Teeny Tiny Writing Challenge” My prompt was Crime AU, so I brought him into my favorite Crime show with my favorite bisexual male detective.

Warnings: MLM Flirting, Mentions of Glenn’s Death, Negan’s Mouth, Captain Holt, Sexual Tension, Manic Jake, My take on Negan’s Real Name

Tags: @genevievedarcygranger @letsby @negans-network @collette04 @mblaqgi

Captain Holt folded his arms across his chest, his tired lungs slowly releasing an exasperated sigh. “This is Nicholas Egan; owner of the night club on 4th Street known as ‘Honey Bunz’.” He looked over at Jake before bringing his gaze back to the handsome man in the interrogation room. “Boyle and Jeffords took him in for questioning after they found the mutilated body of a young pizza delivery boy in the dumpster of his establishment early this morning.”

“So why isn’t Charles on the case?” Jake asked, pointing to the man through the double-sided mirror.

“Detective Boyle said that the man was ‘scary, and reminded him of his mother’.” Holt uncrossed his arms. “I sent Sergeant Jeffords in there to pick up the pieces, but Egan kept complimenting him on his impeccable physique, and didn’t actually answer any of his questions.” He paused and looked at Jake. “The man is a charmer, Peralta, he hasn’t even had to ask for a lawyer yet because had Jeffords practically blushing, the snake.” Holt spat out.

“His physique IS impeccable, though,” Jake whispered, staring off into the corner while he thought about Terry’s arms. “Have you seen him in the battle gear of Return to Skyfire?!”

“Peralta,” he pointed to the man in the hot seat. “A young man was brutally beaten and then tossed in the trash like he was nothing!” Captain Holt’s voice rarely faltered, his emotions coming through only once in a blue moon.

“Right right right right, there’s a horrible monster of a man out there beating people to death, and you think it might be him? Good. Got it!” He bit his lower lip and nodded, taking the case file from his superior officer. “Time to charm the snake!” ——————-

“So, Mr. Egan,” Jake waltzed into the interrogation room with a spring in his step, hoping to throw the man off guard.

“Call me Negan,” he smiled, turning in his chair to face him.

“Oh! Okay,” Jake glanced at his file then back at the suspect, raising his eyebrows. “Negan.”

He could suddenly tell why Terry was charmed out of the interrogation room and why Charles was too scared to even attempt to approach the table. Negan’s hair was dark, complemented by perfectly tanned skin and glowing amber eyes, his smile electric. Jake was pretty sure it was just a tactic, but he felt himself wanting to get closer, even if that meant getting electrocuted. He was big, from only his seated position Jake could tell that he would tower over him if they were on a level playing field. His tall stature wasn’t the only grandiose feature on this man, though. Something about him, the way he looked, they way he spoke, the way he was simply projected an enormity of presence Jake couldn’t quite explain.

Get it together, Jake! You’re a detective, he’s a suspect! He probably killed this poor pizza guy! He thought to himself, sitting on the chair backward. He remembered that Charles had told him something about reversing bad Juju by putting your sock on inside out or sitting on a chair backwards.

“Well then you can call me JPeralta… JP… Jay…” he tried to think of something comparable before deciding to wave it off. “You know what? Nevermind, you can just call me Detective Peralta. You’re a suspect, you know this.” He scooted himself closer to the table, opening the file in front of him to display the grotesque photographs of the crime scene.

“Oh my God!” Jake shouted, closing it and wishing he would have seen the photographs when he was in the other room.

“Shit, you okay?” Negan leaned forward, folding his hands together as a smirk crept over his lips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Jake paused as he kept his hand on the worn and overused folder, noticing the glee this man took in his fear and surprise. He smiled and didn’t even pretend to be shocked or sorry that something like this happened on his property. He didn’t seem to be sorry that something like this had happened at all.

“What can you tell me about Glenn Rhee?” Jake regained his composure, sitting up in his chair and clearing his throat.

“Who?” He licked his lips and smiled, a row of perfectly white teeth electrifying the air around him amidst the dark walls of the interrogation room.

“Glenn Rhee: 27 years old, loving husband and soon to be father was found beaten to death in the dumpster behind your establishment. That… sound familiar? Ring any bells?” His eyes widened as he looked for more reactions from him. The husband and father angle usually warranted at least a fake frown from most people, but not this guy; this guy was either really dumb or really smart.

“Sweetheart, I honestly can’t say I know who you’re talking about.” He smiled and rubbed the salt and pepper stubble on his chin before chuckling under his breath, a tell-tale sign of deceit.

“Sweetheart?! Eyes up here, Daddy... erm... buddy!” Jake pointed to his eyes. “Look, you’re a smart man, you know that a dead body on your property isn’t good for business. I just want to help clear everything up so you can get back to business as usual.”

“You like my line of business, Peralta?” He leaned into him, dark eyes covering him in a blanket of warmth as he touched his hand. “All the ass and tits you want, whenever you want, wherever you want it.” He licked his lips again, making Jake wonder what those lips might taste like.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Jake felt a rush of warmth pulse between his legs, causing a familiar strain on his pants he only felt when Amy spoke Spanish in the bedroom. Wait a minute, what was happening?

“Not just my mother, and not only on the mouth.” His fingertips teased their way up Jake’s knuckles, sending another exciting rush up his arm and into his spine. “How about you?”

“Listen, I resent the derogatory way you’re speaking about your mother and women in general, but you’re kind of sending me mixed signals, and I’m not really sure how to handle it, so I’m just going to keep going with my questions, mmkay? Mmmkay!”

Jake pulled his hand away and started writing on the folder in front of him, stopping only as Negan took the pen from between his fingers and grabbed his hand. He smiled that snakelike smile Holt had warned him about and kept his eyes on him, holding him hostage as he massaged his palm before writing a set of characters on it.

“What kind of signals are those, darlin’?” He asked, letting go of Jake’s hand and clicking the pen shut.

“Darlin’?” Jake laughed and felt a bead of sweat drip down his forehead. The intoxicating smell of his cologne drowned out any linear thought process he might have had a second ago. “I bet you call all the girls that… I mean, do you know of anyone who might have enemies… or… that are bad at…doing things…?” Jake shook his head and stared at the man’s handsome features, his prominent jawline only accented by his well-groomed beard and thick lustrous lips. “Are you wearing Drakkar Noir, by chance?”

“Peralta!” A very angry Captain Holt opened the door. ————————— “Drakkar Noir?” Captain Holt’s eyebrows were high on his forehead.

“Awe, come on, Captain, I almost had him!” Jake defended, pointing back at him.

“You got less accomplished than Sergeant Jeffords! He at least talked about physical fitness and found out where the suspect goes to the gym! All you managed to do was bat your eyelashes like some hussy on the school yard.” He pointed an angry finger at him.

“Hussy?” Jake gasped, grabbing his chest with his palm. Sure, the man was distracting, and sure, it was hard to concentrate or do anything in his presence, but Jake wasn’t acting like a hussy when he walked in the door… was he?

“Show me your hand, Peralta,” Holt held out his own for Jake to put his in.

“My what?” He gripped his flannel shirt tighter in defense.

“Your hand, Peralta, what did he write on it?” He beckoned for him with his fingers.

Jake was so nervous when Holt burst into the interrogation room that he had forgotten to check what Negan wrote on it. Maybe it was a clue, maybe it was a smiley face, maybe it was the blueprints of his building, or an admission of guilt. He let go of his flannel shirt and lifted his palm up to his face, glancing at it briefly before defeatedly placing it in his captain’s hand.

“Well?” Holt asked.

“It’s his phone number.”