A little drabble requested by @power-bottom-barba-is-sad, because we never get enough Lucia Barba in this fandom. Set after SVU was unexpectedly canceled in season 17, so we’ll never know what happened with all those death threats. - xoxo, ahf.
“Ma’am, may I see some ID?”
Lucia stopped in place, head slowly turning to the side.
The police officer was painfully young, Hispanic. Still in uniform and closer to his school years than she would have preferred if his restless shifting was any indication. Kids could smell principals a mile away, there was a chance she looked like this boy’s mother, and she would have been shocked if this boy was older than twenty-five so she still had the upper hand when she puffed a lock of dark hair out of her eyes and got a better grip on the twin bags of groceries in her arms.
“I’ve done this already,” she told him sternly. “One of your officers cleared me two weeks ago.”
“I didn’t-, I mean I wasn’t there. For that. No one told me about that.” The boy cleared his throat. “Ma’am.”
“My name is Lucia Barba. I’m here to see my son.”
“I understand that, ma’am, but I need to confirm your identity.”
“You have. Multiple times,” she replied. “Usually without requiring me to put my groceries on the godforsaken Manhattan sidewalk.”
“Ma’am-”
“Mrs. Barba!”
Lips pursed, Lucia turned to see an older brunette approaching.
Olivia, badge and gun on her hip where the gunslingers in her mother’s telenovelas used to wear them. She didn’t think Olivia Benson to be the gunslinger type but the look suited her all the same.
“Lieutenant,” she greeted. “I’m being kept from my son.”
“What? Why?”
“Ma’am, Detective Carisi told us-”
“Who?” Lucia interrupted. “Who told you not to let me see my son?”
“No one,” Olivia said quickly and gave a wide, clearly threatening smile to the boy in front of her. “Right, Officer… Trujillo?”
“Right,” he said slowly and nodded first at Olivia, then at Lucia. “Feel free to go on up, Mrs. Barba. Sorry.”
She huffed a triumphant breath and Olivia smiled.
“All fixed. Have a nice night, Mrs. Barba,” she said and attempted to go around the back of her, toward the dark SUV parked on the curb, but Lucia didn’t give her the chance.
“Do you know who hired that man to kill my baby?” she asked, voice strident and foot tapping. Lieutenant Benson was less susceptible to it than most.
“Not yet,” she admitted with an apologetic smile. “But we’re working on it. And in the meantime, Rafael is in very good hands.”
“Whose?” she asked. “Whose hands? Yours?”
“Mine,” she admitted, “And the rest of the squad. He has people, Mrs. Barba. Good people who want to protect him and who are going to do their best to figure out who’s behind this.”
Lucia nodded and Olivia stepped away again.
“And you’re leaving?” Lucia called just before getting to the car.
Olivia stopped in place but didn’t turn.
“Yes, Mrs. Barba. The detective assigned to Rafael for the night is in place upstairs.”
“Do I know him?”
Lucia had to strain to hear, “Poor Carisi.”
“What?”
“Have a good night, Mrs. Barba,” Olivia called over her shoulder with a wave as she circled the car. “Tell Rafael I’ll see him in the morning.”
“Mmhmm,” she murmured and spared one last withering look at the officer who stopped her before entering the building, who shrunk away under the weight of her disproval. “No more visitors tonight. We’re cooking.”
“Yes ma’am.”
…
“Rafi!” she cried, banging on her son’s door. “Rafael!”
She heard laughter on the other side - not just her son’s.
“Rafael!”
More laughter, possibly something that sounded like footsteps. She was rearing back to kick the door when it opened, revealing a man distinctly not her son. Someone tall and blond with too much product in his hair and an easy sort of smile that made Lucia wonder what in the hell he was doing in a five block radius of her son.
“Who are you?”
“Mrs, Barba,” the man started but she cut him off.
“No, I’m Mrs. Barba. I want to know who you are.”
“Mami, this is Detective Carisi,” Rafael’s voice told her from behind the blond. Finally the man stepped aside and she could see her son on the couch, drink in hand. “He’s one of the detectives from SVU, helping with my security.”
“I’ve heard your name before,” Lucia admitted and then walked past him and into the kitchen. She could feel eyes on her but ignored them as she set the grocery bags on the counter. “The boy downstairs said you’re in charge of who sees my son and who doesn’t?”
The detective, flushed now, looked down at his hands. “Uh, yeah, I guess. It’s just important that we know-”
“- who his mother is?” Lucia finished for him. “Because that child downstairs tried to detain me in my own son’s home, when I have been here several times in the last two weeks. You’re in charge of that?”
“Yes ma’am,” he replied, chastised. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Perfect,” she said and turned her attention to the food in front of her. Rafi wouldn’t cook on the best day, much less under stress, and Lucia was determined to stock his refrigerator with two weeks of dinners before she left. “Rafi, come help me please. I could use a hand and you clearly aren’t doing anything useful.”
The man was smart enough to recognize it for the dismissal it was, so he told her son that he’d be outside if he needed anything and to enjoy his visit. Polite, at least, she couldn’t help but notice as Rafael carried a chair outside the door and then closed it behind him - a sight that made her even more suspicious, because Rafael did manual labor for exactly two people and one of those had been dead for over a year. When he returned to the kitchen it was with a stiff glare in her direction, not that it did anything to deter her.
“Liv called me before you came up,” Rafael started. “I think it might have been a warning.”
“A warning for what?”
“A warning that you were on the warpath,” he answered and Lucia scoffed.
“They’ve never seen a warpath. This is mildly irritated,” she told him and her son laughed because no one knew it like he did. She looked him over, finding new parts of him that looked thinner. The circles under his eyes were darker, even if his eyes seemed happy. “What are you doing with your time? Are you okay, are they letting you work?”
“I work all the time.”
“Are you… are these people helping you? Are they working your case, or whatever?” she said, gesturing.
He regarded at her with eyes so direct they looked right through her.
“I’m safe, Mami.”
The shuddering breath that escaped her was probably evidence enough of her worry, her stress, her fear and her relief, but the consolation was for both of them so she accepted it with a tired smile and started pulling groceries out of the twin paper sacks.
“Good,” she said. “Now come help me with this mango, I can never unpeel them without breaking a nail.”
She waited until Rafael was next to her, plucking a knife from the rack to butcher the ripe mango on the cutting board in front of him. He handled it expertly, nimble fingers delicate on the handle and pointedly away from the blade. Her son didn’t cook, it seemed, but at least he still knew how to help her do it. Silence reigned in the kitchen while she finished unpacking all her ingredients, started eyeing the range and wondering how many pots she could get going at once.
Outside she heard whistling.
“When you talked about the detective,” Lucia started and to his credit, Rafael didn’t jump in surprise, “You made him sound much younger.”
Rafael’s voice was neutral when he answered, “Ten years younger than me.”
“But not a child,” Lucia pointed out. “You talk about him like he’s a grade schooler wanting teacher’s attention. He’s a grown man and I didn’t see any stars in his eyes.”
“You didn’t look hard enough,” he scoffed but Lucia wasn’t falling for it.
“I thought he was Italian.”
“He is Italian.”
“He’s white Italian.”
“So?”
“So you think your mother doesn’t remember how you feel about blue eyes and blond hair? They make you stupid. My son can’t be bothered with other Cuban boys, he wants something fair and exotic,” she said pointedly while Rafael looked horrified. “What? I know these things. You think I’m headless and can’t see it for myself?”
“We’re not having this conversation.”
“What conversation? I’m just saying I notice things.”
“Notice other things.”
“Why?”
“Because my type, whatever that may be, is not something I want to discuss with my mother. And also because Carisi is… off-limits,” he settled on finally and then gave a small shake of his head like that wasn’t what he wanted to say but couldn’t think of anything better. “He’s Catholic and if he’s not closeted completely I’d be surprised, not that out and still religious would be any better. Beyond that, we work together. He’s a good man.”
“And what are you, a felon?”
“Not if they never catch me.”
“Rafael,” she admonished with a small slap on his arm that made him laugh. “But this good man is here for you? He’s watching you?”
“He’s part of my security detail, yes,” Rafael answered and transferred the mango pieces into a bowl while Lucia took an onion from its net bag and set to work on the cutting board next to him. “Both Olivia and Rollins have young children so he’s been kind enough to volunteer more of his time while Fin coordinates the uniforms.”
“That’s a fairly unimaginative way to say he wants to spend time with you,” Lucia observed and Rafael had already started shaking his head. “No, it is. The least he could have done is wait until someone didn’t want to hurt you.”
This made him laugh and after forty-five years, Lucia had yet to find a better sound in all the world.
If Rafael Barba was still capable of laughing, things would be okay.
It meant Rafael trusted his friends, his colleagues.
It meant he trusted the pretty white boy outside his door, whistling, because he was respectful enough to want Rafael to have an uninterrupted visit with his mother.
“It’s probably killing him, you know,” Rafael told her in a low voice.
“What is?”
“The man outside that door has probably never had a mother dislike him in all his thirty-five years and you just rush in and yell at him and banish him to the hallway,” her son said but there was a sparkle in his eye that told her he found it funny, too. “He’s probably questioning his entire life about now.”
“Well,” she sighed and set down the knife. “Go let him in.”
Rafael looked over at her, trying not to grin. “What was that?”
“Go let the Italian in the apartment,” she clarified. “If he’s going out of his way to keep my son safe then he has a seat at my table.”
“My table, Mami,” he reminded kindly but pressed a kiss to her temple all the same. She tried to pretend it didn’t warm her up from her polished toes. “And thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she warned, brow drown as Rafael walked to the front door. Looking relaxed, looking happy. Looking distinctly unworried about the man who had threatened to kill him. “He still has to spend a dinner with your mother.”
“He should be so lucky,” Rafael told her smugly, as though dinner with an old woman were a treat, and she was reminded once again at how lucky she was to have such a good boy.
“Flatterer,” she murmured and went back to dicing onion. The blade was heavy and all too familiar in her hand and cut through the vegetable’s flesh with hardly an ounce of pressure on her part. Lucia continued, “If he knows what’s good for him, he will be too.”
Tags: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr. Rafael Barba Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr. Drag Shows likely inaccurate Crack Treated Seriously whoops I gave it feelings y'all are getting hot pants barba AND hot pants carisi
Summary: Carisi was used to celebrating without the squad, and usually he could convince himself that it was alright. Tonight was one of those nights where it was okay that he was alone, because after all, who would have wanted to go with him to a drag show?
Comment: A cute and different fic. It’s lovely to see something new. Dazzling descriptions and moments of tension make this an entertaining read.
Sonny had spent so much time staring at Barba, even memorizing his sometimes austere features, that he hoped he could identify the man underneath a brilliant cat eye and a blinding highlight. The dress she was wearing was sinfully tight and short enough to show off an impressive set of legs. God help him, but that was the definitive feature that had Sonny convinced he was staring at his ADA.
What if the reporter questions the prosecution’s approach and Sonny fucking loses his shit and defends Oh Rafael because he can’t have the world thinking Rafael isn’t putting everything into this case fighting for the victim
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Characters: Rafael Barba, Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Original Male Character(s)
Additional Tags: Drama, First Kiss, Prompt Fic, Pre-Barisi
Summary:
Rafael accidentally runs into Carisi and ends up entangled in something potentially dangerous.
Tags: Rafael Barba/Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr., Rafael Barba, Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr., Pre-Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Reflection, Self-Reflection, almost gen, Musing, Really there’s no plot
Summary: But here is different. Here in front of cycling laundry, listening to dated elevator music cut in and out on an old radio, and the uncanny hymn of their only company, things are inexplicably different.
Comments: A beautifully-written, introspective look at Sonny as he and Rafael meet, once again, at a 24-hour laundromat. With poetic prose and a truly gorgeous atmosphere, no comment can do it justice.
It's not that they planned this, there was no preconceived notion that they’d arrive at the same place, the same witching hour. Sonny’s not so presumptuous to assume the man wants to see him.
It’s happenstance, or serendipity, or something else altogether that can’t be described by the confines of the English language. Maybe German, Sonny ponders for a moment, the language of obscure sorrows and esoteric emotions. He doesn’t know how they keep ending up here, at two am, underwear and undershirts caught up in the spin cycle, but it happens. Over, and over again.
In law school students have to participate in mock trials, where they separate into groups like defense/prosecution/jury, etc. Which means that at some point Sonny Carisi would have to wear the appropriate clothing, prep for the case chosen as an example, and realistically and effectively BE a prosecutor. And he’s not nervous about it per se, but it will be the first time he puts his theoretical skills into practice so he talks it over with Rollins in the squad room, even going to far as to mention that it’s this coming Tuesday night. Probably in the hopes that she would remember and wish him good luck.
It’s not his fault that Rafael overhears, but he does.
It’s also not his fault that Rafael’s curiosity is well and thoroughly piqued at the prospect of seeing the lawyer in Carisi rather than just the detective. He has his suspicions based on knowing the man professionally but those suspicions meant nothing in the long run so he keeps them to himself.
He tries to forget, he really does.
He’s already very busy, he has four arraignments the next day and the opening arguments for a separate case the morning after that, and still Rafael finds himself calling an old colleague from Fordham to inquire on the time and place of the mock court session taking place later that day. The professor suspects nothing, gives the information out with hardly a second thought as to why a infamous prominent Manhattan ADA wants to attend mock court for a program other than his alma mater. It likely hasn’t occurred to him that Rafael works with one of his students.
Which is how he ends up at Fordham late on a Tuesday night, footsteps echoing in an empty hallway as he looks for a particular room number.
He slips in the back so no one sees him other than the professor, who gives him a subtle nod. Rafael is considerate enough to know that seeing him would throw Carisi off his game so he sits in the far back of the gallery and keeps his mouth shut. Even when he wants to tell a student juror to quit texting and wants to tell the defense to consider acting lessons to get rid of his stage fright. He watches Carisi gives opening statements as lead for the prosecution and he can’t help the swell of pride in his chest. The man is confident, affable. Leaning on the jury box with all the likable ease that Carisi seems to inhabit naturally. He sounds intelligent, looks professional. Is clearly prepared and obviously mentally engaged with the proceedings. The jury is comfortable with him, are receptive to what he was saying.
None of this is news to Rafael, who expected no less of a detective skilled at deciphering human behavior and adopting the likenesses of characters used for undercover operations.
It’s not until the first instance of a cross that Rafael is taken by surprise.
It wasn’t hard to tell the smug asshole in the room, from the moment he was led in. He took the stand reproachfully, as though this wasn’t the part of the assignment he had his eye on. Since his glare was very obviously at Carisi it wasn’t hard to tell the position he’d wanted. It didn’t bother the detective at all, treating the other student with passive disinterest to start. Standard questions, nothing spectacular. At least until the first objection, which Sonny backs up with a case tried fifteen years before - in Brooklyn, of all places.
One of Rafael’s cases, a homicide.
He wins the motion.
Which the witness didn’t seem to care for at all because then he started acting up, giving petulant non-answers to throw Carisi off. To affect his performance. It doesn’t work. Instead, when he refuses to answer for the third time, Carisi turns to the professor and asks permission to treat him as a hostile witness - at which time Carisi turns on a dime and decimates him.
With logic, with the kid’s own words. For the first time since the mock trial started Rafael is reminded of the capable detective, strong enough to compel confessions out of suspects far more intimidating than a petulant jerk in a mock trial. By the time he’s done the kid is blinking and dazed and Rafael doesn’t think his chest feels tight out of pride. When he watches Carisi smooth his tie and dismiss the witness his mouth is dry and he can feel his heartbeat significantly lower than his actual heart.
It’s then that the professor chooses to conclude the trial for today and everyone stands up to start collecting their things, chatter starting up again while they make plans to grab drinks. Carisi is the only one who declines, stating he has an early shift in the morning. Slowly everyone filters out and Carisi has stayed behind, exchanging words and a smile with the professor. Finally the professor says something significant and Carisi jolts, turning slowly and searching the chairs in the gallery before finding Rafael.
He swallows hard, bracing.
Probably to be mocked because he doesn’t realize that he’s done nothing worthy of being mocked.
The professor claps him on the back once and leaves the room while Rafael finally stands, descending the steps until he reaches the courtroom floor. Hands in his pockets, expression neutral.
“Counselor,” Carisi starts amiably. “Didn’t expect to see you setting foot here willingly. Who blackmailed you?”
Rafael chuckles.
“No blackmail necessary. I overheard you telling Detective Rollins,” he says, approaching the table. “I hope it doesn’t bother you.”
Carisi grins. “Not at all, counselor. Now I get to look forward to a whole new category of jokes at my expense.”
“Jokes about what, detective?” he asks seriously, still feeling the secondary thrill from discovering that Carisi’s legal prowess was unbearably attractive to him. “That you’re more than capable? That you’re talented, even? Quick on your feet, intuitive? Every one of those is a terrible punchline.”
Carisi looks at him like he sprouted a second head.
“You used one of my cases,” he points out as well, just because it needs to be said. “Creatively, I might add. I wouldn’t have thought to apply it here.”
The detective chuckled but Rafael didn’t miss the color creeping up his neck.
“Impressed, counselor?”
“Very.”
Carisi’s eyes jerk up to meet his, to judge his seriousness, and seems to trust what he finds because his shoulders finally relax and his smile is suddenly genuine. A beaming, bright thing that makes Rafael wonder why he’d wasted so much time making him roll his eyes when this was a much better alternative.
A thought for another time, and Rafael still has more to say.
“You might let your classmate, the defense, know that he needs some extra attention in public speaking. Acting classes help, I’m told,” he adds, just because the thought sticks with him and he doesn’t want to see a talented lawyer go to waste because he doesn’t know how to perform for a jury. Judging from the way Carisi grins at him it was a bad move because now he’s looking at Rafael with unobstructed interest, a hint of heat low in his gaze.
“You thinking about teaching, Barba?”
He scoffs.
“Oh, you don’t want that Carisi,” he replies with a hint of a smile. “Besides, would you willingly subject any of your classmates to being at my mercy?”
“Nah,” Carisi denies, closing his briefcase and sneaking a glance at Rafael. A glance that lingers long after it should have ended had this been a professional discussion between colleagues. “I might get jealous.”
Rafael pauses, calculating.
Carisi doesn’t back down.
Interesting.
“Do you have somewhere to be right now, Carisi?” he asks before the question has fully formed in his head but he doesn’t back down either.
“Nope. I took the whole night off because we’re never sure how long these things will last,” he replies as they start toward the door. “You?”
“Only if you want to get a drink with me,” Rafael offers mildly and doesn’t miss the flicker of surprise on Carisi’s face.
“Yeah,” he says slowly, getting accustomed to the idea. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
They reach the door and Carisi steps forward first, opening it for him. Something Carisi has always done for him but this time Rafael takes advantage, moving just a little closer than necessary as he passes through it.
“Thank you, counselor,” Rafael says kindly and Carisi’s jaw falls open for real this time, heat flashing high on his cheeks. He makes it several feet down the hall before he realizes that Carisi is frozen in place, looking at him with open awe on his face.
“You coming, Carisi?”
The words snap him out of it and he lets the door close, walking quickly to catch up to him, and Rafael allows himself to smirk.
Tags: Rafael Barba/Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr., Rafael Barba, Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr., Olivia Benson, Rita Calhoun, Barisi - Freeform, barba/carisi - Freeform, look it’s not full on barisi it’s just... pre-barisi I guess, h/c, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Summary: Barba's a big idiot and doesn't find time to eat.
Comments: An amazing fic with spot-on characterization. Fluffy with a great plot, this fic will leave you wanting more. All this in 2000 words makes for a fantastic read.
“Well, what were we supposed to do? Just leave you on the floor in the middle of the court room? ‘Oh, no, he’s fine, we’ll just leave him there, he’ll be okay, this happens all the time,’ Rafael thought Carisi sounded somewhat hysterical, which made him smile, though he wasn’t sure why. “We had no idea what happened. It could have been serious. Still could,” he added, frowning, if possible, deeper.
Tags: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Rafael Barba, Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Pre-Relationship, Awkward Flirting, Flirting, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, pseudo-crack fic
Summary: It started out as a very dumb joke. Now, Sonny's neighbor wanted to kick his ass.
Comments: A funny and cute Neighbor AU inspired by this post! Featuring nerdy Barisi! A very lovely Pre-Barisi one-shot.
The man turned toward the elevators, but then drew up short. He had noticed the sign. He looked at it and sighed deeply. He crumpled it the same way he did before. Sonny had never been turned on by a just pair of hands before. Looked like there really was a first time for everything.
Sonny couldn't stop himself. The visual of his neighbor crumpling paper was too good to pass up.
