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Raymond Holt had never met anyone quite like Jacob Peralta.
The man was messy, disorganized, and frankly just immature, yet somehow he still managed to hold one of the highest arrest rates Holt had ever seen. Although Holt would never admit it (Peralta’s ego was big enough), it was amazing to watch, really, as he solved yet another case, his brain seeming to hone in out of nowhere as he suddenly noticed a small bit of information that was crucial to the case that no other detective at the precinct had seen.
It baffled Holt how Peralta managed to somehow be so good at his job yet so terrible at other aspects of his life- it was no secret that Jacob was quite horrible at taking care of himself, with his little hours of sleep and the fact that the only liquid he drank were radioactive-looking blue drinks and coffee that was 50% sugar.
But despite all this, Holt had to admit, the young man was very good at his job- he was brilliant at solving cases, yes, and he was also an incredible teammate. He kept morale high in the office, forming seemingly very close bonds with just about everyone he met, and although many would deny it, Holt found it increasingly obvious that most of the detectives at the 99 adored Jacob.
Holt, on the other hand… Well, he was still warming up, as one might say, to the man.
The logical part of him knew that he couldn’t exactly fire Jacob (as much as he wanted to), because that could be devastating for the precinct and Brooklyn as a whole- Peralta was too much of a good detective.
But there was also the part of him that did not care.
Jacob made no sense to him, and Raymond hated that. All his life he had known that to be good, you had to be organized and punctual, and along came Jake, who was neither of those things, and yet who still was a better detective than most of those Raymond had met throughout his career.
It bothered Holt that his ideas of the perfect detective were seemingly… untrue. How could Peralta even function, let alone do his job so well? It was disorienting, confusing, strange.
And so Raymond vowed to fix it so his worldview could go back to normal. Thus began his plot to turn Jacob Peralta into the perfect detective, which, in Holt’s eyes, meant that you had to not only be good at being a detective, but also that you had to be good at being a functioning human being.
(Which was not what he considered Peralta to be.)
It started off with the tie.
It showed order, it showed that Holt had his own team now, it showed respect. (Something he’d been severely lacking from his colleagues his entire career.)
So of course Jacob had to be difficult.
He rarely remembered to wear a tie most days, and his desk was still messy no matter how many times Holt ordered him to clean it up. His shirt wasn’t done up right, he had massive bags under his eyes and cuts on his face as if no one had ever taught him to shave, and yet he somehow was still the best detective in the precinct.
Holt couldn’t stand it.
But if Jacob wasn’t willing to change, then Holt wouldn’t either. He wouldn’t back down until Detective Peralta was as organized as he was good at his job.
“Peralta!” Holt barked out, catching the man’s attention from where he was sitting on Gina’s desk talking about some Die Hard related topic while Gina ignored him and scrolled through her phone. (Or at least it seemed like she was ignoring him. She was quite good at multitasking when it came to real life and her cellular device.)
“I’d like to speak to you about your report on the Santox B&E from this morning,” Holt finished.
“You got it, Cap’!” Jacob said, saluting and grinning. “Lemme just-”
He leapt down from Gina’s desk and walked over to his, high fiving Charles on the way, and pulled open one of his drawers, causing at least five sheets of paper to float towards the ground, which he didn’t even seem to notice.
“Here,” He said, handing Holt the case file after walking over to where the Captain was standing in the door of his office.
Behind him, Santiago glanced judgmentally down at Peralta’s papers on the floor and back up at him, while Hitchcock slipped on one of them and fell with an “oof!”, spilling his nachos into the air onto Rosa, who promptly kicked him in the balls and angrily stomped off to the bathroom.
Holt looked at the chaos behind him and back to the grinning thirty-three year old in front of him who was seemingly oblivious to the damage he’d done to the precinct.
“My office, Peralta. Now.”
“So, what’s up, Captain? Is this about the Santox case? Are you gonst’a tell me how proud you are of me?”
“Peralta, you-”
“Not in a ‘dad’ way proud of me, though,” Jacob quickly corrected. “Just in a, y’know, captain way.”
“I wasn’t-”
“I mean, unless- I mean, no, but are you proud of me? I did do a pretty good job on that report, if I do say so myself-”
“Peralta!”
Jake jumped at Holt’s sudden raise in volume. “Yeah?” he asked, still not seeming to understand that Holt was not pleased with him (strange- Holt was pretty sure he was obviously angry by the slight downward shift in his eyebrows- how could Jacob not notice?)
Holt suddenly couldn’t stand it anymore.
The messiness, the disregard for authority, the way Jacob was so good at his job despite his horridness with everything else.
“Peralta, tell me, in what world would I be proud of you?”
(Maybe if Holt hadn’t been so furious, he would have noticed the way Jacob flinched at those words.)
“You disobey my orders to be neat and professional, the way you work bothers others in the office, and now this?” Holt continued. “You’ve distracted Diaz, Hitchcock, and everyone else in the precinct because you can’t clean up after yourself like a child.”
“Captain-”
“All of that,” Holt said. “And now you’re asking if I’m proud of you? For this?” He held up the report on the Santox B&E and waved it in Jacob’s face, causing him to start blinking rapidly. “This is the messiest report I’ve seen in years!”
“But, Captain, I solved-”
“You solved it? Excellent,” Holt said sarcastically, trying to ignore the way Jacob’s voice had just broken when he tried to defend himself. “That would be helpful if I could read it! Your handwriting is outlandish, there are artificial cheese-dust stains on the paper, and you even dog-eared some of the pages!”
Jacob didn't even say anything for himself. His shoulders were hunched up and his head was down.
Holt had never seen him like this before, causing him to falter for a moment before continuing his rant.
“So, no, of course I’m not ‘proud of you’! You-”
“Right. I disappointed you, again.” Jacob stood up, blinking even more furiously than before.
Was he trying not to cry?
“That’s me, the screwup. Sorry, Captain. Here, let me fix that.”
He took the report from Holt’s hands, flashed the Captain a forced smile, and left the office to sit back down at his desk, cleaning up the papers that had spilt before and ignoring Santiago’s pointed look. Even she seemed confused as he sat down without making a single joke or even smiling.
And that was when Holt knew he had messed up.
He cornered Jake in the parking lot later that evening.
Gertie was in the repair shop, and so Kevin was going to pick Holt up on his way home from work. Jacob had stayed late (for the third time that week) and was fishing through his bag for his car keys when Holt left the precinct.
Jake looked up at the sound of the door to the building opening and closing and quickly averted his eyes when they met Holt’s (which stung a little, Raymond wasn’t going to lie- although he presumed he deserved it).
“Jacob,” Holt stated, nodding his head as he passed by his employee on the way to the bench where he was planning on waiting for his husband.
Jake inhaled sharply from where he was standing in front of the bench before responding. “Hey, Captain!”
“You seem more… cheery than you were earlier.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been like this all day!” As if to prove his point, that endearing infernal goofy grin was back on Jake’s face.
“Hm.” was Holt’s response.
There was more silence as Jake opened another pocket of his bag in search of his keys before Raymond asked, “Looking for your keys?”
Jake’s head shot up. “Uh-um, no, I know where they are! I’m organized! I’m not… stupid, I-”
Raymond cut him off before he could say any more. “Losing your keys is not equivalent to stupid, Jacob.”
“Right.” More silence.
“I… I understand that I may have… reacted unaccordingly today. When I called you into my office.”
“What!? No, sir, I’m fine. I messed up, wow, that’s rare for me to say- but I shouldn’t have assumed you-”
“I am proud of you.”
“Oh. Um. Noice. Cool cool cool cool cool.”
“I read over your improved version of the Santox B&E. Once I could read the handwriting, it was quite enlightening. I never would have thought the gun would be hidden in the toilet.”
“I mean, I only discovered it because I had to go to the bathroom. I feel kinda bad for the guy that had to get the gun after I tried to flush the toilet.”
“I want to say I’m sorry. I was overly harsh on you for a simple mistake.”
“No, I- I should be neater. More organized. You’re right. It must be really hard to have me around, ha.”
“Quite the opposite, Jacob.”
“Sure. Hey, are you sure you’re proud of me?”
“I imagine by the fact that you need more convincing you haven’t been told that enough in your life.”
“Whaaaaaat? Nah, my dad- I mean, I’ve been told that lots. Everyone’s always… super proud of me. Yeah.”
“You are a horrible liar.”
“Sir, I’m serious, it’s not your job to fix me or lie to me and tell me shit you don’t believe, I know I’m not the greatest employee, but-”
“Peralta. You are incredible at your job.”
“Oh. What?”
“You’re one of the best employees I’ve ever had. You’re a brilliant detective and a superb teammate. Any captain would be lucky to have you.”
“Sir, I know I’m annoying, seriously, you don’t have to lie-”
“I’m not lying. I believe what I am saying right now. Yes, I think you could be a bit more organized, but I think you’ve proven to me that you don’t need that to be a good detective. Plus, I can always just ask Gina to translate your writing for me.
“So yes, I am proud of you. If your father couldn’t see this, then that is on him, but you are brilliant, Peralta. Everyone here thinks so. Myself included.”
Jake’s doe eyes were shining in the streetlamps of the parking lot. He had a small smile on his face, that expression where he was actually touched, where he was actually letting himself feel emotions instead of making jokes to avoid any actual feelings.
“Thank you, Captain.”
The sound of Kevin’s car pulling up seemed to snap Jake out of his bewilderment. He looked back down at his bag to continue his search for his keys, trying (and failing) to subtly wipe his eyes with his sleeve as Raymond turned around to get up from where he sat on the bench.
“Here,” the Captain of the 99 said while handing Jake his keys. “You were looking for these?”
Jake opened his mouth in fake offendance. “Gasp! Captain! That’s thievery!”
“I had to make sure you didn’t leave before I could talk to you.”
“Aw, you care about me?” Jacob batted his lashes.
Back to the jokes, Holt thought as he walked away to where Kevin was waiting.
“Goodnight, Peralta.”
“Goodnight, dad!” Jake joked again.
At least, Raymond thought he was joking. Smiling softly, he realized he didn’t mind either way.