idols don't stand taller than men

"The youngest… could not conceal her disappointment, and turned away, feeling as so many of us have felt when we discover that our idols are very ordinary men and women."

— Louisa May Alcott, Jo's Boys

(s1, ep. 8)

"It's my favorite book. And I've read fifteen."

"Fifty isn't a lot." Amy looked at him with her judgy eyes.

Jake looked right back.

"Wait… did you say fifteen?" Amy said incredulously. Jake could pretty much see the wheels turning in her head, and it was so funny because he was sure she pitied him. Ah, how a bookworm sees the world.

"Not all of us were married to our library books as children, Amy. Some of us had a childhood. I was too busy being cool… and stuff."

They all looked at him with judgy eyes this time.

"Like… what?" Rosa asked, smirking.

"You know, the uge. Beating up unpopular kids, stealing lunches, doing drugs…"

"Hey. Only I can abbreviate "usual" like that," Gina cut in. "Also, we were best friends in high school. You literally did none of that. Actually… I'm pretty sure I had to stop kids from beating you up. Knew that's why I became a cop."

"You're not a cop, Gina."

"Says you."

"Hey! Peralta, Santiago. In here, now," Holt called.

"Ah, Big Daddy beckons," Jake said.

Amy smacked him. "Don't call him that."

It was almost… cute to see Jake gush over Jimmy Brogan. Sure, the guy was just another probably racist and homophobic old white man who thought he was the coolest thing on earth, but Jake had always idolized strong "father" figures. Amy didn't need to be a shrink to figure out why.

Unfortunately for Jake, most of his father figures tended to be like his real father… not at all the men that Jake wanted them to be and ultimately letting him down.

Amy had watched this happen over and over again, but Jake didn't want to listen to her when she tried to stop his idolizing of these men.

After he yelled at her, she said, "Fine," and they didn't talk for a whole twenty-four hours (that was a long time when you had to work a case with someone) until he brought her coffee the next day.

It was an unspoken I'm sorry and she acknowledged it by not unseating his naive enthusiasm whenever it showed up.

Sometimes, she wondered if Jake had ever really grown up.

Amy had just snuggled into bed, having picked up dinner from her favorite takeout place (she still couldn't figure out cooking for the life of her), sipped a glass of wine while organizing some case files she'd brought home with her, and finished her 10-step nighttime routine.

She opened the latest book she was reading, excited to dive into the juicy world of gossip and intrigue (hey, she liked fiction books as much as nonfiction!) when her phone buzzed.

God, she really needed to remember to turn that to silent before she started reading. Though it could be something important.

best night ever! flashed across the screen.

Okay, what was Jake doing and why did he feel the need to text her that?

Just as she was about to respond, her phone buzzed again. why scotch burn so gud?

"Why Scotch burn so good?" she repeated to herself. Ha. Jake was drunk.

Well, someone's drunk, she typed back.

wazzz his name en serpico?

Okay, clearly he couldn't really read either. She decided to turn her phone on airplane mode so she could finish her book in peace (this was an internet case, she doubted she'd be getting any work calls tonight) and make fun of Jake's texts in the morning, when he'd be very hungover.

With a smile, she turned back to her book.

The last thought she had before she drifted to sleep was, Why was Jake drunk texting me?

It was a good morning. Amy's phone, once turned off airplane mode, bombarded her with the rest of Jake's texts from the night:

who's da friend of yurs with da ping pong?

amy amy amyyyyy itz da beef light ov my loaf

And lastly, a photo of him shirtless, eating Chinese chicken salad on the subway platform.

She burst out into full-on laughter. Oh, this was gonna be so good.

Amy strode into work in her favorite pink blouse and grey pantsuit, coffee in hand. As she started working, she spotted Jake stumbling in, looking like he'd gotten run over by a truck and also pepper-sprayed because his eyes couldn't really open and his face was scrunched up like a little kid who didn't want to get up and go to school.

Or, as Holt would later say, "A corpse that had been dragged out of the river."

"Rough night?" she smirked.

"Shut your mouth siren," Jake groaned.

"Oh no. I'm not done. Here are the texts I got from you last night…" and she proceeded to read them all, watching as he looked a little uncomfortable but also just like he wanted her to stop talking (her speaking voice must have been very grating to his poor, hangover-sensitive ears).

But even with him being barely functional, he managed to figure out the case with her. Despite his comments about her warm butt.

"Oh wow, your butt's really warm."

"My butt's normal. Your butt's the weird one," Amy said defensively.

"Don't be mad. It's nice," Jake responded as he adjusted himself in the chair. Amy didn't have a response to that.

"I sent him home. He assaulted Jimmy Brogan."

"Yeah, but that caveman kinda had it coming," Amy said, smiling. It was satisfying to imagine Jake punching that guy in the face.

Holt just looked at her. "Oh… he didn't tell you. If Jake didn't tell you, he must've had a reason. I can't say anything," Amy said.

"I'm disappointed in you, Santiago. I thought you and I were close."

Amy felt her heart drop — I'm disappointed in you were probably her least favorite words in the English language.

"I know you're manipulating me, sir, but I love it and I will tell you anything," she said, grinning. Besides, this story needed to be told.

Jake may have majorly screwed up by getting drunk with Brogan and talking smack about Holt in the first place, but he actually did make things right. He stood up for his friends.

And, as Amy realized, maybe he had finally found a father figure that would live up to his insanely high ideals.

Spoiler alert: it wasn't Brogan.