♡ Veronica had a bad day and just wanted to give her murderous robot daughter some love... And ended up with a giant cat purring like a boat engine. Totally normal robot behavior going on over there- 😂 ♡
ᰔᩚ Caretakers of Twisteds au is mine!!! ᰔᩚ
ʚɞ @soupiestzilla you asked for this, you get Twisted Cat Vee lmao (it's okay I too really wanted twisted cat Vee too) ʚɞ
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Veronica was just sitting on the couch after a very long and painful day of work, exhausted and just slowly sipping her tea as Shanon handled dinner in the kitchen. Vee was beside her, staring out the window, hand on her forehead like she had a migraine despite looking as peaceful as could be. Shelly was curled up on the floor in her pile, taking a nap after playing in the pool all day again. Veronica took another long sip of her tea, Vee let out a content sigh.
Then...
"I miss when you would comfort me after a hard day of work." Veronica blurted out, not even thinking, just... Speaking. Vee's antennae twitched slightly, her screen turning towards her mom, her tail flicking itself off the couch. It didn't hit the floor, it slammed safely onto a pillow. It was fine.
"What─?"
"You used to curl up and let me stroke you gently like a cat, you'd purr so loudly it sounded like a car engine. I'd always tease you about it... You always fell asleep... You... You'd... Always... Fall right asleep and shiver like a little Chihuahua..." Veronica sniffed as she rubbed her eyes, getting intensely emotional while thinking about this. Vee tilted her head, concerned.
"Momma..."
"It always made me feel so... So loved... When I thought everyone hated me... Because I'd never talk..."
"Momma-"
"I'd sit in that spot every day just so you'd come over-"
Vee gently stopped her with a hand to her mouth, and Veronica didn't care. She didn't even look at Vee anymore, she couldn't, not with her crying like a big baby over a bad day and some sweet memories. She just hid her eyes with her arm and kept crying, unable to stop herself. Though, what Vee did was pretty unexpected- she slowly laid down and slowly managed to loaf yet again, putting her monitor and part of her upper body on Veronica's lap. Sure she was much larger than she used to be- her joints didn't work as well either, her body constantly ached now too, but Vee managed to make it work. Veronica was stunned, especially when she calmed down enough to pet her like she used to- and Vee immediately was shivering comfortably and purring like she used to. Except it was much louder, glitcher and deeper, just like Vee's voice was. Though, it felt the same to Veronica, the same feeling she got whenever she'd be able to finally pet the robot after a hard day, the feeling of pure bliss and comfort she got whenever she was able to silently reassure both of them that it was okay to have bad days as long as they had each other. Veronica laughed a small, wet, sad laugh as she went right back to petting her, laughing even more when Vee let out a massive sigh of comfort as her body relaxed under her hand.
"Oh my god... You really haven't changed... Look at you, falling asleep again, purring, loafing- Oh, Vee." Veronica whispered as she watched the robot, who was soon fast asleep like this, and soon flopped on her side and sleeping like the world's most laziest cat would- as she was still in loaf position, just sideways. Veronica soon was laughing hysterically at the sight of the napping cat toon, rubbing the robot's belly like she would to a dog, feeling her vibrate intensely as she purred like an engine again. Sure she was massive now, but she definitely was still Vee, and Veronica still absolutely loved her to hell and back. Shanon, obviously hearing the engine like sounds and the hysterical laughing, slowly peered out of the kitchen at them. She snuck back into the kitchen soon afterwards, just to sneak out again with her old Polaroid camera and sneak in front of them. Then, while Veronica was still not paying attention to her, she grinned mischievously.
"Smile Veri!"
Before Veronica could even look over at her, Shanon took a picture, then ran off giggling like she pulled the best prank ever. Veronica just laughed even harder now, knowing very well that she was just caught laughing at her dumbass daughter for being the same stupid cat robot she used to be as a small toon. Vee- she was out cold, now fully on her back, sleeping like a spoiled puppy with her arms tucked against her chest and one leg up on the back of the couch, the other lazily tossed off said couch and resting on a pillow on the floor, right next to her tail. She looked so at ease though, sleeping like she wasn't purring like a boat engine and being belly rubbed like a dog. Veronica was still laughing, but she had calmed down a bit, giving Vee her beloved pets and affection with one hand while now giving her gentle scratches on the top of the head with the other. Her tea now rested on the coffee table, not forgotten, but definitely abandoned in favor of spoiling the robot. Shelly, being the rock she was, didn't even flinch at the loud noise directly behind her, just kept on snoozing peacefully, worn out from being a pool menace all day. Shanon just chuckled as she put up the picture of her beloved wife and the very spoiled robot they both loved dearly on the fridge, sighing afterwards. It caught Vee side loafing, her screen hidden in Veronica's black dress pants, her antennae drooping off the side of the couch from how long they were now. Veronica had her eyes closed, mouth open in a huge smile, caught mid laugh, still having tears on her face from her slight breakdown. It was chaotic, but it was definitely a great example of how loving their odd family was. And Shanon loved that, even if she knew she probably was going to be killed for taking such an embarrassing picture of Vee once the robot found out about it.
Synopsis: It’s been such a while since you’ve spent time with your partner and you’ve decided to plan a small surprise picnic for both of you to unwind and relax. How do they react?
Genre: Diabolically sickening fluff, you all have been warned!
Author’s Note: this was supposed to be for valentine’s day last month but i ended up getting swamped with work and other duties sjdfhskjdfsd but anyways, enjoy!
DILUC
Receiving gifts wasn’t a foreign concept nor rare occurrence for the red-eyed wine tycoon.
If anything, he would like to say he was sick of it. Aside from his disdain for the very product his own family supports and finds livelihood from, the constant image and good relations he must keep to keep said business thriving and flowing invites a lot of instances where he would receive complimentary gifts and items from his business partners. Some would send as a gesture of good will, others with hidden agendas and ulterior motives.
But of course, you are the exception. You will always be the exception.
When you pleaded for him to free up a couple of hours during the day to spend some time with him, he reluctantly agreed despite the hectic schedule and tasks he needed to follow up and accomplish within that day. He already figured out you were arranging some sort of surprise, but what you had planned was something he had no idea about at all.
You could imagine how he could physically feel his cheeks heat up to a degree he thought would endanger his own body temperature and the way his heart’s paced raced faster than the adrenaline and excitement he would feel coursing through his veins when he found himself seated atop a private and safe clearing near Windrise, a picnic blanket set on the ground and a basket filled with food and drinks positioned in the middle.
When you shyly tugged on his sleeve and handed him a bouquet of small lampgrass you gathered yourself along with a box clumsily wrapped, he couldn’t stop himself from gathering your gifts on one arm and grabbing you with his other.
His arm wrapped around your waist and your chests collided, a small “oof!” of surprise escaping you as he buried himself in the cook of your neck. How was he so lucky to have found you? What did he do to deserve the blessing that was your existence, your very being in his life?
Diluc was not a man whose words littered with flattery and praise, but he would be damned if he couldn’t show how much he appreciated you for your efforts. When he pulled back and gazed at you with the widest smile and the softest of looks with his bright red eyes, he had hoped that this would be more than enough to convey the overflowing stream of emotions he was unable to verbalize out loud aside from the usual words of affections you two would share underneath the hush and curtains of privacy, away from the world.
And when he saw you return the smile and your cheeks flush nearly the same shade as his fiery red hair, there was no doubting each other’s emotions as you shared a kiss underneath the large branches of the tree, with the soft breeze brushing past you and the crystaflies dancing in the air, much like the fluttering beats of both of your hearts.
ALHAITHAM
As “rational” and “logical” he may be, there was no denying that Alhaitham understood the nuances and contexts of social interactions including romantic exchanges. After all, when he unexpectedly found himself falling in love with you and realizing he wanted to be with you, it would be as irrational and illogical for him to act in a way that would push you away or make you want to distance yourself from him.
When you asked him whether he was available for lunch on a certain sunny day, he already assumed that you would have a picnic idea prepared somewhere nearby. It wasn’t just a random guess either; he had picked up on your actions from the days leading up to that moment. The way you had invested more attention and detail to grocery shopping, the new picnic blanket and basket you had tried to hide beneath the storage by your shared home from his line of sight, and the rather suspicious way you tried to plead with him to leave his schedule vacant during noon-
Really, it was like you weren’t even trying.
So when he appeared collected and not at all phased when you tried to bring him to a reserved spot near Yazadaha Pool, he tried his best not to let a small amused smirk appear on his face.
What he didn’t expect, however, was the bouquet of sand grease pupa and flowers of what seemed to come from a well-known monster located around the northern desert of Sumeru. His eyes blinked so fast as he tried to make sense of what exactly you had just handed him- a gift or a prank?
It didn’t matter though when he heard the ringing of your uncontrollable laughter upon witnessing the Grand Scribe’s facial expression. He let out a short scoff and tried to appear as if offended by the gift, but he couldn’t stay that way when you wrapped your arms around his waist and gave him a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips.
To outdo and surprise Alhaitham of all people was certainly a feat, but to grab his heart and make it your own was something he knew no ordinary person could do.
With the bouquet of pupas and monster drops and your voice filling the air with stories about your day, he couldn’t help but lean his head atop of yours and allow you to rest on his chest as the afternoon sun rose high in the sky and shone down upon both of you- it’s warmth giving Alhaitham enough excuse to hide the blush that formed in his face when you brushed your lips against his, but not enough to hide the erratic beating of his own heart.
CYNO
Yet another individual who seems as if he isn’t well-versed in the context of human relationships, but is really just a secret softie underneath the front he constantly puts as General Mahamatra.
It didn’t take any kind of coaxing or bargaining at all for him to agree with spending some of his free time with you. Had it not been for his personal duties, he would gladly spend all the time in the world just staying by your side.
He was quite curious on what you had planned, but still trusted you even when you gave him a slip of paper and made him try to solve for the mysterious place you had arranged for your little date.
It didn’t take much time to figure out the location of your date, but he couldn’t say it was a little fun with how you used references from TCG to lure him in and try to make him lose his way there.
He was the General Mahamatra, nothing could possibly distract him from his goals when he set his eyes on it.
... is what he thought until he tripped over a subtle lump of earth after his eyes landed on you.
You were waiting for him by a neatly arranged picnic blanket spread across the grass. In your arms were a fresh bouquet of Padisarah flowers mixed with Sumeru roses and other brightly colored flowers and a gentle yet giddy smile on your face.
Maybe it was the way the sunlight hit your figure that it looked like you were a dazzling, mythical being and the way your eyes glittered with mirth and joy- he wasn’t sure- but it was such a sight that it was practically inevitable he would trip over the ground and almost fall on his face.
When he heard your worried words accompanied with a few snickers of laughter, he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face as well. He watched as your giddy face turned bashful as you shyly handed him the bouquet you prepared for him and how your cheeks reddened from embarrassment when you told him that you planned all this as a way to give him a break and to spend more special time with one another.
He gladly accepted your bouquet with one arm and tenderly cupped your cheek with the other. His thumb brushed on the soft surface of your cheek and underneath the skin of his hand he could feel the warmth emanating from your embarrassed and shy face. A small whisper of gratitude left his lips, a quiet gesture from the seemingly intimidating and feared General Mahamatra, but not equating to how big and impactful your existence was to his life and how he silently swore with the very same breath that spoke of your name to protect your smile and the warmth you bring into his life.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“We’re not friends, Gallagher. This, right here, is all we’re going to be,” Mickey said gesturing to the space between them. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and left the freezer swiftly, not bothering to look back.
A brief glimpse of Ian and Mickey's friendship over the years.
I could hear the music coming from inside the brick building as Seyoon and I approached the doors. It wasn’t so loud to disrupt the neighbors, but loud enough to get engulfed by the music, even just at the door. Seyoon lets go of my hand to open the door for me, smiling fondly as I thank him and walk through the doorway. I hear the door creak as it slowly closes, Seyoon grabbing my hand once again as we both walk through the small hallway leading to a room where bright lights were leaking into the hallway. As soon as we stand in the doorway, we can see almost everybody on the dance floor, dancing as the lights change colors with the beats of the music playing. Further in the corner was the food and drinks table, where a few people resided as they sipped on their beverages. Seyoon tugs my hand slightly, making me follow his steps as he finds the table the rest of the boys were placed. Only Donghun and Chan were seated there, eating food and watching Jun and Byeongkwan dance to the point of exhaustion.
“Why aren’t you guys out there?” I joke, noticing the sweat from their previous dancing they had been doing throughout the night.
“I don’t know how they aren’t passing out.” Donghun shakes his head with a small smile gracing his face as he looks at the two dancers. Seyoon and I sit in the empty seats around the table, sitting across from the two boys also seated at the table.
“How come you guys are so late?” Donghun asks with curiosity sparkling in his eyes.
“We’re just slow.” Seyoon smiles as he looks at me, squeezing my hand that was resting on his knee.
The song ends, causing everyone to cheer out of excitement. This is when the two members on the dance floor finally come to sit next to Seyoon and I.
“You guys made it!” Jun exclaims with heavy breaths due to his energy being expended through dancing.
“Did you guys have fun?” I laugh as I was the sweat drip from their hair.
“They’re playing great songs!” Byeongkwan shouts over the loud music. “Are you guys going to dance?”
“Absolutely!” I smile, standing to smooth out my dress before hitting the dance floor. I look down at Seyoon, leaning closer to his ear so I didn’t have to shout. “Are you coming?”
He shakes his head with a smile. “You go on ahead.”
I nod, smiling as I walk out to the dance floor. Byeongkwan and Jun show up on either side of me, also joining the other dancing bodies. They stay close to me, just close enough to ward off any prowling dancers that saw me alone. Occasionally spinning me and doing silly dances in the process. My attention wasn’t fully on dancing as I kept glancing over to Seyoon to see if he was going to join the dance floor. However he stayed seated, even when Donghun and Chan got up to dance, Seyoon just watched the rest of us.
Of course, many other men came up to ask for a dance, which made me thankful I had Byeongkwan and Jun near me to use them as an excuse. As each song passed, the dance floor began to wind down as more people opted out to take breaks. This prompted the selection of a slow song. I look to Seyoon to see him still seated, not making any movements to join the floor. I bid the boys a goodbye, making my way over to him. I sit right next to him, resting my head on his shoulder as I pant heavily from the extensive energy I had just used.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask him as I sit up look at him, hearing the soft tune engulf the room.
“Are you sure you don’t want to dance with Jun or Byeongkwan?” He asks while looking down at his hands.
It may come across as jealousy to most, but not only did he trust us, his voice held sadness. I guessed it was because we had so much fun dancing with each other, he didn’t want to intervene. I gently grab his hand, intertwining our fingers as I encourage him to follow me to the center of the room.
“I’m sure.” I smile at him fondly, grabbing his other hand while I walk backwards to look at him. “Because I only want to slow dance with you.” I say as I wrap my arms around his neck, bringing him close to me, while he places his hands on my waist, his smile growing each second.
We sway back and forth slowly, not really paying much regard to the tempo of the song as we stare at each other. The rest of the night was comprised of dances such as these, as well as many quiet moments at the table while the rest of the group came on and off of the dance floor. It was a slower, peaceful pace, but it was the one we both preferred and cherished.
Summary: George plays hooky because his lover is a terrible influence, really.
Prompt: ‘Let's just stay in bed today.’
Author’s Notes: sexy washette fluff yes please + some sugar daddy!George & sugar baby!Laf vibes
On most Friday mornings, Lafayette woke before George did. George worked late into the night at his law firm or on his campaign trail quite often, sometimes not coming home until one or two in the morning. Lafayette, however, worked from home—so they were usually in bed long before their boyfriend was. As per usual, this morning was no different.
Stretching, Lafayette finds that the two of them are still curled up on the couch—their smaller figure resting against his, George’s arms wrapped around their waist and his groin pressing against their ass in a big spoon position. There’s a soft patchwork quilt thrown around the two of them, and the television is still playing the opening screen to the movie they’d been watching on the DVR. Lafayette vaguely recalls dozing off in the middle of The Notebook, thinking that their relationship was even better than the one in the movie.
Most weekend mornings were spent in this way—especially considering they almost always fell asleep together during movie night. There was something domestic and peaceful about waking up in their boyfriend's arms, with sunlight streaming in through the windows and absolute quiet blanketing the apartment. However, weekdays were usually interrupted by George's phone going off—calling him to whatever work emergency had occurred that morning.
Not yet ready for the serenity to end, Lafayette turns in George’s hold to bury their face into his chest. They inhale the soothing, familiar scent of his earthy cologne and smile warmly into the cloth of his pajama shirt. It takes a few minutes, but after they've fully shaken themselves from their groggy bliss, they smile coyly to themselves. Sometimes they doubted themselves; they doubted their relationship with him. George was a successful lawyer, an even more successful politician, a decorated war veteran. He was the epitome of an all-American dream man. Intelligent, romantic, funny, handsome, honest.
Gilbert was just some twenty-four-year-old gay French immigrant who still struggled with the English language. There were plenty of reasons that the two of them were polar opposites—George was in his forties and Laf in his twenties, George dressed sharply in the clothes stereotypical for his gender and Lafayette wore makeup and dresses, George was seen as a Southern gentleman and Lafayette was seen as a French degenerate. All of these played on the younger of the two’s anxiety often, causing them to overthink and second guess their five year relationship.
But these stolen moments, where George held them so close the two of them could've melded together, Laf receives their desperately needed validation. Soaks up the attention and the love that unknowingly spills from their boyfriend like a thirsty man come to a spring. And they just can't help but feel like the luckiest person on Earth.
George slowly begins to stir beside them, and Lafayette briefly wonders if he's uncomfortable in their position. But he doesn’t do much to change anything but turn to his head to bury his nose in their hair and tuck his arm tighter around their waist. They would’ve let him sleep like that forever, if they could. He’s kind of cute—with his soft snoring and a small content smile on his lips.
However, their arm is dead and it was beginning to become uncomfortable. They shift their arm that isn’t trapped beneath his from the middle of their bodies, and they viciously shake it about to get some more blood flowing. It’s not how they intended to wake him up, but George startles awake at the sudden movement with an angry grunt. There’s fear in his dark eyes and he desperately surveys the living room—trying to survey his surroundings and gauge any danger. Lafayette winces—all too familiar with the pains of soldier back from a war, as both their father and stepfather had been veterans—but once he realizes that he’s on his couch, the tortured expression on his face fades into something calmer before disappearing completely.
His mouth spreads into a small gentle smile when he lays his eyes on his lovers face, and his free hand comes up to coil a chestnut strand of hair around his finger. Lafayette leans into the touch, a smile on their own lips.
“Hey there gorgeous,” he purrs, pressing a gentle kiss against the corner of their mouth. Laf almost melts at how sexy their voice sounds when bogged down by the remnants of sleep.
“Good morning, mon coeur,” they respond, feeling simply euphoric in his arms. For a moment the two of them just stare at each other—their hazel eyes locked onto his deep ebony ones, enjoying just a brief moment of peace before the bubble is popped and their days begin. Immediately, Lafayette dreads even the thought—couldn't imagine the chill that would fill their bones when their George finally gave his morning stretch and got up to get ready for work.
Just as predicted, George eventually sits up to stretch and yawn, and makes to crawl off the couch in order to get ready for a work day. Whining, Lafayette tugs at the fabric of his pajama shirt until he collapses back into his position as the big spoon.
“Don't leave me, baby,” they plead, giving him their classic puppy eyes and batting their long eyelashes. Lafayette was well aware of the effect they tended to have on their lover—George had had a soft spot for them ever since they'd met on that website, had often told them it had been love at first sight—but they didn't try to use that to their advantage very often. They were mostly content knowing that they had him wrapped around their little finger.
Sometimes, however, desperate times called for desperate measures. And wanting to spend the day wrapped up in his arms, uninterrupted, but having that goal threatened? Qualified as a pretty desperate time.
George sighs softly, props himself up on his elbow so that he can stare down at where Lafayette was innocently pouting and batting their eyelashes at him. They're so beautiful, he thinks to himself, unable to stop his stupid grin that forms at the magnificent sight. So cute, too. I don't want to leave them.
But he had to, especially if he wanted to keep doing certain things—like expensive surprise anniversary trips or the occasional splurge on clothes shopping—that he knew Lafayette enjoyed, but would never admit to. He'd promised when they became exclusive that he'd take care of them, and he meant it in every sense of the word.
“I have to go to work, princess,” he says, using their favorite affectionate pet name to soften the blow of his rejection. Lafayette whines anyways, their pouting becoming almost bratty. “I gotta make money for us.”
“I make money for us!” they exclaim indignantly, and George chuckles. They did, this was true. In France they had been a brief media sensation for being a child prodigy child artist, and their paintings sold for thousands of dollars there. They did make their own money, and lots of it—George just wasn't too fond of letting them use it for anything outside of their schooling or purchasing materials for new artworks. After all, they'd wanted a sugar daddy for a reason.
“I know you do. But I don't want you to have to,” he explains, taking one of their perfectly manicured hands and kissing the knuckles. He presses a kiss to each individual finger, melting them under his touch with each contact.
“S'il te plaît, reste, mon coeur,” they plead with their sweetest voice, sitting up now. George falls back onto the couch with the sudden movement—laying with his back against the armrest as they move to straddle his lap. With their hands resting on his shoulders—and his hands almost reflexively coming up to grip their hips—they lean forward until their lips are just centimeters away from his and say, “Let's just stay in bed today.”
George shakes his head, though his will is weakening with every second. In this position, with them looking so angelic above him… how could he ever possibly say no? It almost seems sinful to deny them this, to deny them anything in the world.
“Laf—” he tries to start in protest, but Lafayette hushes him with a gentle yet passionate kiss on the lips. Its small and short lived, and George can taste that distinctly-Lafayette honey sweet on his lips when their tongue darts across his bottom lip.
“I promise, I'll make it worth your while,” they swear when they break the kiss, before moving their lips down over the line of his jaw. George can feel them suckling kisses along his jawline and eventually a path down to his neck until he begins to bruise. He knows that even if he did deny them, the evidence of what had made him late to work would be too blatantly obvious.
“I suppose it wouldn't kill me to have one sick day, would it, m’love?”
“Of course, not.”
mon coeur - my heart
S'il te plaît, reste, mon coeur - Please, stay, my heart
Ok! So I did it! All parts done in one day! (a vague amount of revision done.... ish...)
I haven’t read over this one - the way I was writing it was kind of like editing at the same time - but that does mean there might be a few mistakes in there - just warning you!
Hope you enjoy!
Let me know if you want to be tagged in anything
REQUESTS ALWAYS OPEN
MASTERLIST
“Back again, are we?” [Y/N] asked before Loki could say anything, knowing it was him that was lingering behind her, and feel the familiar gaze on her back. She turned around to face him.
“I meant no offense by what I said.” He murmured.
“Is that your version of an apology?” She asked, raising a brow at him.
“I’m sorry.” He said stiffly.
“Sure...” [Y/N] muttered, eyeing the prince for a moment - he seemed sincere. She nodded and began to walk off. “You know you’ve got two strikes, right?” She called back over her shoulder at him. “Three strikes and you’re out, you know.”
“Does that mean I get another chance then, my lady?” Loki asked, catching up with me easily with his longs strides, an eyebrow raised in question and a wicked grin on his face.
“One more.” [Y/N] clarified. “So, you’d better make it count, my prince.” She teased, nearing the edge of the dance floor again. She couldn’t help letting out a gasp of surprise when he suddenly wrapped his arms around her and swept her onto the dance floor, her feet actually leaving the ground for the moment. The man was strong for his rather slim frame!
Soon [Y/N] found herself twirling back in Loki’s arms again, but she didn’t relax as much as last time, keep her eyes on him and watching carefully as he directed them across the floor.
Sure, she could have just told the prince to leave her peace, then avoided in for the rest of the night, but she couldn’t find it in herself to completely give up on her childhood friend just yet – maybe she too had fallen victim to his charm.
One more chance.
That’s what he had.
If he blew this [Y/N] wasn’t going to give him anymore of her attention. Not tonight. Not ever. The thought pained her a bit, think back on how she had felt only a short while ago, safe and at ease in his arms. If only, she mused.
She had been watching the rest of the room whilst in thought, but she now turned her eyes back to Loki.
“Romance isn’t one of your weapons of choice, is it?” [Y/N] asked, watching his face.
“Hmm?” He questioned in confusion, he had been lost in thought, staring out into the room, but now he turned his eyes back to her.
“You look bored.” She explained. “Is there something else you’d rather pursue?” She questioned, glancing over her shoulder where his eyes had been, “Because - you know - you don’t have to be here…” She hinted, giving him the option to bail out if he wanted to.
“No.” Loki said quickly, and [Y/N] raised an eyebrow in surprise. “No.” he repeated, “Just lost in thought.” He explained, brushing it off.
[Y/N] eyed him suspiciously, not wholly trusting him, but when they spun back around, she could see no obvious signs of any beautiful women in the immediate vicinity that might have caught his eyes.
She brought her eyes back to his face, frowning. Had he been telling the truth?
“What?” Loki asked down to her at her expression.
She shook her head as they glided across the floor, “Just thinking…”
“About what?” He pushed, and she felt his cool hand apply a bit more pressure on her back, hinting for her to step forward, but not forcing her too. She gave a small smile at the floor and let him move the two of them closer. “Hm?” Loki hummed, reminding her of his question.
She shook her head again, pushing away the warmth she felt at the closeness between them. “Just… Uh…” She thought of what to say, avoiding his eyes. “You know I’m just curious...” She started, staring at his chest.
“Oh?” He asked, watching her intently, “About what?”
She finally looked up at his face, a small smile playing on her lips. “How such a mummy’s boy like you became such a ladies’ man.” She grinned.
Loki looked taken aback by this for a moment, but he quickly recovered and scowled. “I wasn’t a mummy’s boy.” He muttered darkly, not meeting her eyes, instead focusing on guiding them across the room.
[Y/N] couldn’t help chuckling at his comment and sudden grumpiness. Loki’s eyes immediately shot back to her at the sound of her laughter.
“That’s the first time you’ve laughed tonight.” He pointed out, looking surprised, his black mood instantly vanishing.
“Yeah, well, you’re funny.” She teased with a small smile.
Loki scowled at her again, then bowed his head, so his lips were by her ear. “And your laugh is beautiful.” He murmured, his breath warm on her skin.
[Y/N] could feel her cheeks warm, and she was glad she could pass that off as the exertion of dancing. “Don’t ruin it.” She muttered at him.
“What?” Loki asked, straightening up and looking down at her in disbelief. “I can’t even pay you a compliment?”
“Not if it’s just to get in my pants.” She pointed out, her eyes not meeting his, instead keeping her gaze on the direction they were moving.
“And if I’m being truthful?” He asked.
“Well, I guess that’s something we’ll never know.” [Y/N] shrugged, shooting a smirk up at him.
Loki looked down at the women in his arms like he was unsure what to make of her. [Y/N] bit her lip to stop herself laughing at his expression.
“So… come on!” She urged, “What’s caused the change from mummy’s boys I used to know, to this new ladies’ man, hm?” She asked, repeating her earlier question.
Loki shifted his eyes away from her, gazing out to the rest of the dance floor and [Y/N] noted how serious his face had become. The prince shrugged as they spun, “I don’t have a mother.” He said simply.
[Y/N] frowned up at him in confusion, “But Frigga –“
“Isn’t my mother.” His eyes dropped to hers now and [Y/N] could see something fragile in the green depths.
“But Odin –“ She murmured.
“Isn’t my father either.”
[Y/N] dropped her gaze from Loki’s and frowned at his chest as she thought this through. They continued to spin around the room, but [Y/N] suddenly felt like there was a mile between the two of them, despite the fact they were practically touching.
She glanced up to his face again, but his wasn’t looking at her and his jaw looked set and tense. “Can I ask who…?” She asked softly.
Loki didn’t move, unable to meet her eyes. “I’d rather not explain it right now if you don’t mind.” He muttered. his voice quiet and stiff.
“Of course.” She murmured, dropping her eyes, and suddenly feeling bad for prying so much.
She’d just wanted to know what made him the way he was – why the Loki before her was so different from the boy she once knew – and she hadn’t thought of the consequences of her nosing in his business.
It was only now that she realised he wasn’t any different. He was the same Loki, but now the scared boy was hiding his dark God of Mischief armour.
She glanced up at him again, but he still hadn’t relaxed from his rigid position. She felt terrible. She hadn’t meant to make him feel uncomfortable around her.
They spun for a while longer in silence, neither looking at each other, [Y/N] missing the comfort of his arms despite the fact that she was still in them. She wanted to do something - help that scared boy somehow - but she didn’t know what to do.
Slowly, she moved her hand from his shoulder, letting it fall down his back - never letting her hand break contact with him - and then lightly pulled her other hand free where Loki held it.
Loki faltered in his steps as [Y/N] wrapped both arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug and trying to convey every emotion through it, resting her cheek on his chest.
He seemed initially surprised at her actions, his arms out wide either side as he looked down at her snuggled into his body, but he only paused for a moment before he copied her action, wrapping his own arms around her, and gently his cheek on the top of my head.
Unable to dance properly in each other’s embrace, they settled for swaying slowly from side to side instead.
“I think your laugh is beautiful.” Loki mumbled quietly above her.
“I believe you.” [Y/N] murmured with a small chuckle and she felt him smile against her hair.
(7.9K. Inspired by ‘yummy.’ A canon-compliant story about Sonny and Rafael’s relationship through the seasons. No detail left unexplained, no stone left unturned. Please enjoy.)
~~~
Three Years
~~~
“Meet me at The Double Windsor. 9 o’clock.”
Rafael can’t stop reading the text.
Carisi’s text.
Rafael can’t stop reading Carisi’s bold, matter-of-fact text.
A time and a place.
Nothing else.
No ‘would you?’
No ‘unless you have other plans.’
No ‘please?’
Just “Meet me.”
Like he’s sure Rafael will be there.
Rafael is there.
Rafael is here, at the bar Carisi suggested, or picked out unilaterally, because that text was no suggestion, Rafael is here right now, sitting at a corner table, Rafael is here with his jacket off and his tie loose, to appear more casual, Rafael is here and he’s drinking and he’s waiting.
Rafael has been waiting all afternoon.
Rafael has been waiting for three years, actually, but Carisi’s text only came this afternoon, and Rafael swears the last three hours felt even longer.
He almost didn’t check his phone.
His phone, it went off during a meeting with the D.A., and he almost ignored it, like he always does, except he saw Carisi’s name on the screen.
Rafael had to sneak a peek.
After all, maybe Carisi was texting to brag, because his obfuscation idea had worked like a charm. Or, just maybe, it was ‘yummy’ which had worked like a charm, and Carisi was texting to belatedly respond to that.
As soon as Rafael saw, ‘Meet me,’ he knew it was the latter.
As soon as he saw, ‘The Double Windsor,’ he knew this was a date.
Finally.
And it only took three years.
Despite this truly lamentable delay, and despite the fact he had almost resigned himself to eternal blue balls, Rafael can’t say he was too surprised.
He caught the look on Carisi’s face, as he was leaving Liv’s office.
He saw the way Carisi’s eyes followed him all the way out the door.
Rafael knew ‘yummy’ struck a chord.
He just didn’t know what Carisi was going to do about it.
Send a suggestive text, apparently.
A pretty straightforward tactic, and one Rafael wasn’t quite expecting. He was banking on a smirk or three, next time Carisi came to his office. He was waiting for some gloating, and some teasing, and some more ‘Oh, Rafaels’.
The text was better.
Marginally.
Rafael had to struggle to keep his expression neutral as the D.A. kept yammering on about new hires at the Manhattan office, and about highly qualified recruits from outside New York, and about ‘promising’ prosecutors placed in positions Rafael could only dream of attaining, despite his years of experience, because he had one too many suspensions on his record now and his career was dead in the water.
Or something like that.
Rafael chose to focus on the positive.
Carisi’s text.
Rafael pretended he was listening as he emailed Carmen to clear his schedule for the rest of the evening.
Right after he replied to Carisi, of course.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
A cliché, but for a reason.
Carisi didn’t text back. Rafael assumes it’s because he wants to have the rest of that conversation in person.
At The Double Windsor.
This isn’t the first time they’ll be meeting here.
That’s how Rafael knew.
He and Carisi, they’ve been here once before.
Before.
This bar, it’s around the corner from Carisi’s place. Technically, Rafael shouldn’t know that, but he does.
From before.
Before Rafael screwed everything up.
It doesn’t matter.
They’re here again.
Now.
They will be here.
Carisi will be here, any minute now, and that’s all that matters.
Rafael’s eyes are glued to the main entrance.
He’d be embarrassed by his own eagerness, by the way he sits up every time a tall and slender enough man walks through the heavy doors, but the time for embarrassment has long passed.
Rafael is excited.
He’s excited to be meeting Carisi, he’s excited to be sharing a bottle of bourbon, just like last time, he’s excited to be here.
Again.
Rafael knows Carisi didn’t pick this place by accident. Carisi didn’t pick it because it’s convenient, because he had a long day and he wants to get home as soon as possible after their date.
It is a date.
If Carisi wanted a professional meeting, he would have picked one of the many cop bars within a four-block radius of the precinct.
Carisi does not want a professional meeting.
Rafael knows that.
He doesn’t know why ‘yummy’ did the trick, of all things, and he does feel it was almost too easy, but he’ll take it.
Lord knows Rafael has tried everything. He’s tried booyahs, and broken clocks, and kewpie dolls, he’s tried agreeing with Carisi, he’s tried disagreeing, he’s tried being there for Carisi, he’s tried being indifferent, he’s tried insults, he’s tried jokes, he’s tried flirting, he’s tried the cold shoulder, Rafael has tried everything short of actually making a move, and now he gets to sit back and enjoy the fact Carisi made the move for him.
Finally.
After three years of dancing around it, it’s finally happening.
Well, after one year of arguing, and one year of dancing around it, and one year of fighting, because Rafael is an idiot and too proud to admit it.
They were so close, before.
In this bar, they got so close.
Once.
Before.
Carisi mentioned it, over-enunciated the name like Rafael might get a kick out of it, Carisi said, ‘There’s this bar I know, it’s called The Double Windsor. Real classy place. You’d like it, counselor,’ and Rafael laughed, Rafael said, ‘I shudder to think what you consider classy, Carisi. Probably what I’d call a dive bar,’ and Carisi snorted, and Rafael closed the case file he was reading, and Rafael said, ‘I’m not doing anything right now,’ and Carisi smiled at him, so sweet, and they left Rafael’s office together, late at night, almost a year ago, now.
This place, it means something.
Or it did.
Almost a year ago.
As Rafael sips his bourbon slowly, as he remembers the rich flavor of the surprisingly high end brand, the same one he chose almost a year ago, as he remembers saying, ‘I have to admit, even I would call this classy, Carisi,’ as he remembers Carisi’s beaming face, Rafael knows.
This place still means something.
Tonight.
It’s taken three years, two of them wasted, but tonight, it’s finally happening.
Their first date.
If Rafael was a little more honest, or a lot more drunk, he would admit this is their second date.
Their real first date happened right in this bar, almost a year ago.
Rafael doesn’t even know if that should count, but that’s because he’s sober.
It counts.
Maybe this can be their second first date.
All because of ‘yummy.’
All because Carisi has forgiven him, finally, and that’s what Rafael is really happy about.
Not this date. First, second, whatever. That, that’s just the icing on the cake.
Rafael is happy because they’re back.
Back to normal.
Carisi is joking again, and smiling, and calling, and texting, and showing off.
That’s what Rafael is really happy about.
Carisi, showing off for him.
Just like the good old days.
Carisi always had a way of making Rafael happy.
And then he spent a year making Rafael miserable.
Because Rafael screwed everything up.
Carisi spent a year sending Rafael cold and lengthy and perfectly businesslike emails to suggest potentially helpful jurisprudence, every time he thought Rafael needed an assist. Carisi didn’t set foot in Rafael’s office for months, not alone. Carisi chose to rely on linked excerpts from law journals, instead of popping by unannounced, pastries in hand, and regaling Rafael with the contents of his latest paper for his Advanced Criminal Law class at Fordham.
Rafael misses that.
Rafael will never get it back.
Carisi is not at Fordham anymore.
Carisi is a lawyer, now, Carisi passed the bar, and Rafael didn’t even get to celebrate with him, not properly, because that’s when the death threats escalated.
Among other things.
Rafael is deeply, painfully grateful Carisi got a chance to say thank you before it all fell apart.
It’s taken almost a year, but Rafael thinks they’re starting to put it back together.
Carisi suggests strategies in person, now. In Rafael’s office, when it’s just the two of them. In front of the others, too. Liv’s office has become a makeshift auditorium, where Carisi carries out his little presentations, the bigger the audience the better.
It’s all for Rafael.
Carisi’s dimples give him away.
The audience is a bonus, because Carisi’s always been a cocky when it comes to the law, but it’s all for Rafael.
Just like the good old days.
Exactly like the good old days, except for the fact Carisi’s suggestions are much more sophisticated, now. Impressively sophisticated. He’s even managed to outsmart Rafael, on the odd occasion, and that feels better than it should. Rafael’s never felt pride for someone else’s accomplishments before, certainly not when they were at his own expense.
It feels weird.
Rafael feels weird, and proud, and grateful, and happy, and he only has Carisi to thank.
And to blame.
Rafael would have totally come up with those ideas first, if not for Carisi distracting him.
That bubbling potential between them, that rekindled connection, it’s so distracting, and beguiling, and Rafael is slipping, sometimes, and he doesn’t even mind.
Just like the good old days.
Exactly like the good old days, except for the fact Rafael says ‘yummy’ out loud, now. He always did think Carisi was delicious, but that was a thought he kept private.
Regrettably.
No more regrets.
Which is a course of action that has backfired in the past, badly, when it sucked all the joy out of Rafael’s life for almost a year, because Carisi was all the joy in Rafael’s life, but that won’t happen again.
Rafael won’t let that happen again.
Carisi won’t let it.
Things are better now.
Their old relationship has been restored. Their old patterns, intact. Like they never stopped being friends. Like they never almost became more.
Rafael takes another sip as he watches yet another man who isn’t Carisi enter the bar.
He’s rationing. He doesn’t want to be even remotely intoxicated when Carisi arrives. He’s been waiting for half an hour, still nursing that first drink, the bottle almost full next to an empty tumbler.
Rafael got here early.
He wanted to take in the atmosphere without having to worry about concealing his reaction. He was irrationally relieved to see the décor was exactly the same, and he’s even more relieved Carisi wasn’t here to see the emotion on his face.
This place, it means something.
Rafael can see their table, from where he’s sitting.
He didn’t even consider sitting there again.
He wouldn’t dream of it.
Not tonight.
Carisi has forgiven him, but Rafael doesn’t want to push it.
That table, by the window, to the left of the door, the one lit more by the streetlights than the bar’s dim lamps, that’s where he and Carisi had a pleasant conversation for the last time.
Until ‘oh, Rafael,’ and ‘yummy,’ that is.
Rafael refuses to take that for granted.
Forgiveness.
Even if he thinks there’s not much to forgive.
Even if he thinks Carisi overreacted.
Holding a grudge for a whole year? That’s the type of tenacity Rafael would normally both admire and wish to emulate, that’s the kind if pettiness Lucia Barba would be proud of, but it’s hard to appreciate it when you’re the intended target.
Rafael was blindsided.
That was the worst part.
Rafael screwed everything up, somehow, by asking to be relieved of his security detail.
Four months had passed without incident, and he had gotten sick and tired of being trailed by unmarked police cars, and escorted in and out of his home, and his office, and the 16th, and every other restaurant on the Upper East Side. Rafael had endured enough strange looks from his de facto bodyguards while trying to enjoy his almost-dates with Carisi, and even stranger looks that one time he attempted to go tie shopping with an entourage of three underpaid cops who blanched at every price tag, so he asked to be freed.
Who could blame him?
Carisi blamed him.
For some reason.
Rafael only wanted some privacy, but Carisi saw things differently. Carisi stormed into his office, mere hours after Rafael’s request, and yelled at him for ‘not caring about his own life.’ Rafael really wanted to say, ‘You care about it enough for the both of us,’ Rafael wanted to say, ‘No one else does,’ Rafael wanted to say, ‘I don’t need the security detail, I have you,’ but he didn’t have the nerve.
Carisi didn’t speak to him for two weeks.
Next time they saw each other, Carisi yelled at him again.
Over a case, this time, but that was only a pretense.
Rafael didn’t argue. Didn’t yell back, didn’t even defend himself. He assumed Carisi needed some time to get over it.
Whatever ‘it’ was.
So Rafael waited.
Rafael even tried to butter Carisi up with a job at the Brooklyn D.A.’s office, everything pre-arranged, all the details worked out, a well-timed vacancy and an old friend conducting the interview.
Not because Rafael wanted Carisi to leave, of course.
Because Carisi wanted to leave.
That’s what he said, that’s what he yelled, in Rafael’s office.
‘You’re the reason I stayed, Barba. You… the death threats, the threats to your life, that’s why I stayed, that’s why I couldn’t leave, and now you don’t care? We haven’t even arrested anybody yet, except for Heredio. Why do you think you’re any safer now? Why did you… Why did I bother?’
Carisi turned down the job offer.
Rafael thought that was the end of it. His act of selfless lov… his act of selflessness had changed Carisi’s mind. That’s what he thought. Rafael was willing to lose Carisi, if it meant Carisi’s happiness, or lose him to Brooklyn, at least, which wasn’t even that far, and fine, maybe Rafael’s sacrifice wasn’t that dramatic, but whatever, Rafael put Carisi first, and he thought Carisi knew that now, so things would eventually go back to normal.
Better than normal, maybe.
So Rafael waited.
Things got worse.
Carisi yelled at him again, a couple of weeks later, Carisi used another case as an excuse, again, and the yelling didn’t stop for months.
Everything else stopped.
Rafael’s life stopped.
Rafael had gotten used to having Carisi around, ever since those death threats, Rafael had gotten used to Carisi’s constant presence, Rafael had gotten used to their late night dinners at the office, and their Saturday brunches, because Carisi wanted the early Saturday shift, so he’d have his Sundays free for Mass, Rafael had gotten used to their drinks after work, and their weekly lunches, Rafael had gotten used to Carisi, and all of a sudden Rafael’s life felt alarmingly empty.
It was almost offensive, how deeply Carisi’s absence was felt.
Rafael was sure he used to have a life of his own.
Before.
Still, Rafael waited.
Several weeks had already passed. He figured he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.
Carisi was still mad, and frustrated, clearly, but that was okay. He simply needed to get all that anger and frustration out of his system.
Carisi needed to punish Rafael, just a little bit more, he needed to punish Rafael by not being there, which was the harshest of punishments, apparently, and Rafael didn’t want to dwell on that too much, and then he would forgive and forget.
Soon.
Carisi always was the forgiving type, and he always did have a soft spot for Rafael, so whatever this was, it would be over soon. That’s what Rafael thought.
Turns out, Rafael severely underestimated Carisi’s stubbornness.
Which is saying a lot.
Turns out, Carisi was too passionate to simply give in.
It took months.
It took months, but eventually Carisi did thaw.
It took about six months, but Carisi stopped yelling.
That’s when he finally started to accept that Rafael would be alright. That Rafael would be safe. That the threat had passed.
That’s Rafael’s theory, anyway.
The distance between them persisted, but Rafael wasn’t willing to rock the boat. He remained respectfully formal, and he waited until Carisi was ready for more.
One day, about eight months in, which marked a year since Heredio’s little stunt, Carisi cracked a smile, and Rafael knew it was time to close the distance.
Rafael started smiling back, and letting Carisi sit in on meetings with defense attorneys, and weigh in on plea bargains, Rafael started acting like he used to, like before, Rafael started letting his eyes linger, Rafael even started joking, all, ‘You’re gonna deport me to Cuba? And take him to Italy?’ and he could tell Carisi appreciated the shift back to normal.
He may have felt Carisi’s absence deeply, but sometimes Rafael thinks he had it easy.
Carisi missed him too.
Carisi cared about him.
Cares.
Carisi cares about him, and it’s as heartwarming as it is unnerving.
Rafael can say ‘yummy’ all he wants, Rafael can lick his lips and bat his eyelashes and shamelessly flirt with Carisi in front of Liv and the others, Rafael can pretend this is a game, meant to wind Carisi up, he can pretend this is about Carisi eagerly lapping up his attention again, but it’s not.
It’s more than that.
Maybe they’ll rekindle that part, too. Or kindle it, because they never got a real chance to start.
Maybe someday they will.
Have more.
Until then, Rafael will stick to shameless flirting.
It’s worked so far.
It got him a date.
If Carisi shows up, that is. It’s nine fifteen.
Rafael keeps glancing at the big clock hanging over the bartender. The guy is new. Rafael doesn’t recognize him.
It’s been almost a year. A lot of things have changed.
Rafael is slowly trying to change them b-
Carisi’s here.
Finally.
Rafael almost gets up, but he decides to stay seated and lean back on his chair, as enticingly as he can, loosening up his tie even more in a transparent attempt to signal that he’s treating this as a date and he’s out for the kill.
Carisi’s eyes fall to Rafael’s collarbone immediately, and Rafael almost undoes another button, but then he remembers this is not that kind of establishment, so he smirks, instead.
It works just as well.
It gets a quick smile, and then Carisi catches himself, and shakes his head, and starts taking off his coat and jacket.
Neither of them says anything.
They’re barely looking at each other.
Rafael is waiting for a cue. Letting Carisi set the tone.
Which may not be the best idea, since Carisi suddenly frowns and stops moving, stops as his jacket is still hanging off his right shoulder. It’s almost as if he changed his mind. As if he regrets ever coming here. At least according to the sharp sense of panic Rafael feels low in his stomach.
It’s an impossibly quick shift. In an instant, Carisi’s face darkens, and it’s such a stark contrast to his little smile from just seconds ago, and Rafael is confused. The change is so abrupt, Rafael wants to pretend it’s a joke. He doesn’t know what else to make of it.
It could be a joke. Maybe Carisi’s mad because he’s been here for less than a minute and he’s already falling prey to Rafael’s manly charms. Maybe Carisi is exaggerating for effect, and the frown is a joke.
It’s not.
Carisi’s expression is definitely serious, and Raf-
Oh.
Carisi is looking at their table.
Not this table.
Their table, all the way across the bar.
That explains the frown.
The emotion in Carisi’s face, gone before Rafael’s even had a chance to identify it.
Rafael wants to say, ‘You’re the one who picked this place, Carisi,’ but he doesn’t.
Rafael is glad Carisi picked this place.
He’s glad he’s not the only one who had a visible reaction upon seeing the mid-range tablecloths and the faux weathered finish of the mass-produced chairs.
They’ve only been here once, but this bar holds a lot of memories.
Rafael is glad, Rafael is happy to see that Carisi is not immune to it.
So he says nothing, and he waits for Carisi to sit next to him.
Not across.
The table is small, and square, and dating conventions would dictate that they sit on opposite ends, the better to soulfully stare into each other’s eyes, but Carisi sits to Rafael’s left.
The better to touch.
Hopefully.
To test that theory, Rafael leans in and tries to find the most casual way to casually let his hand casually fall on Carisi’s forearm, but th-
“Yummy?”
Rafael casually laughs.
As far as opening lines go, this one’s n-
“In front of Liv? Yummy?”
Rafael pours Carisi a glass of bourbon, simply so he doesn’t start cackling. He thinks Carisi just might up and leave if he d-
“Seriously, Barba. Yummy? Are you for real?”
Rafael is trying not to lose it as Carisi keeps finding new ways of intoning ‘yummy.’ There’s disbelief in his voice, and then amusement, and then exasperation.
There’s no cockiness, though, and that’s what Rafael really wanted to hear, so he figures he’ll double down to see if that works.
“What’s the problem, Carisi? I was just being honest.”
Carisi snorts, and Rafael momentarily remembers the good old days, but then he focuses on the way Carisi’s cheeks redden, and the way Carisi’s dimples show, and the way Carisi’s mouth falls open, and it’s almost as if Carisi wasn’t expecting the blatant flirting to start right off the bat, which is sweet, if not insulting.
Rafael Barba does not say ‘yummy’ lightly.
They’re here, and this is a date, God willing, and Carisi willing, and Rafael fully intends t-
“Right. Honest. That’s what you call it.”
Rafael shrugs as Carisi finally gives him a cocky smirk.
Yummy, indeed.
“Yes. You made a clever observation, and I expressed my honest approval as any colleague would.”
Carisi narrows his eyes by way of calling bullshit, and it’s such a Barba expression it almost looks foreign on his fac-
“Uh huh. You expressed approval. As a colleague. By saying ‘yummy.’”
Rafael is proud of himself for not laughing out loud.
“Yes, Carisi. Why? Would you have preferred something else? ‘Delicious,’ maybe?”
Rafael licks his lips for the big finish, and Carisi’s nostrils flare, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep a straight face. It’s always been so easy to get Carisi all riled up. Rafael’s always loved doing it.
Rafael missed doing it.
Missed Carisi letting him do it.
It feels so damn good to have this again.
It feels s-
“Nah, yummy was bad enough, thank you. Come on, Barba. In front of Liv? And Amanda? And Fin? He spent the rest of the day callin’ me Detective Yummy around the unis!”
Rafael can’t help but laugh at that.
He knows, and Carisi knows, that the squad stopped being fazed by their borderline inappropriate banter a long time ago. Somewhere between, ‘Save it for night school’ and, ‘It pains me to say this, but you’re right, Carisi.’
That was a long time ago.
Rafael wonders if the others were as surprised as he was to see that flirtation continue.
As relieved as he was.
Liv was pretty relieved. Rafael knows that.
Because she told him.
Just the other week, Liv said she w-
“I mean, is this your idea of a joke? Tryin’ to embarrass me in front of Liv? Cause, let me tell you, counselor, I don’t appreciate it.”
Carisi is really committing to this bit. There’s an irritation in his voice, now, and Rafael almost feels contrite.
“You called me Rafael in front of Liv. That was pretty embarrassing.”
Carisi almost chokes on his bourbon.
“That’s your name! How is that embarrassing?”
“It’s embarrassing when you say it, Carisi.”
Carisi starts laughing, loudly, and Rafael wants to kiss him.
Carisi is laughing, and he’s leaning on the table, sleeves already rolled up and elbows resting well within Rafael’s personal space, and their hands are so close, and the lights are so low, and the memories are overwhelm-
“So, Rafael, you thought my ‘clever observation’ was yummy?”
There’s that Carisi cockiness.
“No.”
And there’s that little scowl Rafael likes so much.
“I thought ‘obfuscate’ was yummy. You know I love it when you use LSAT words.”
Carisi rolls his eyes, and that’s another Barba classic, but it looks perfect on his face.
Carisi, rolling his eyes because he thinks Rafael is shameless, it’s perfect.
“I don’t see the issue, Carisi. Isn’t that why you said it? To make me think you were yummy?”
Rafael is totally shameless, by the way.
And that ruffles Carisi’s feathers in a way that’s impossible to ignor-
“Wait, so now you think I’m yummy?”
Oh.
Perhaps Carisi is less ruffled than Rafael thought. Not only did he catch that slip-up, he also called out Rafael on it.
Very well.
“I’ve always thought you were yummy, Carisi.”
Now Carisi is ruffled.
Unmistakably.
Carisi is blinking, and gaping, and so desperately trying to come up with a response, and so adorably failing.
“Uh…”
Yeah.
Rafael smirks and tops up both their tumblers.
He lets that statement linger in the air.
He gives Carisi some time to think about what to say nex-
“See, that’s what I’m talking about, Barba. You can’t just say that stuff. I mean, you can say it to me, when it’s just us, but not when the others are around. It’s not… It’s unprofessional.”
Not the response Rafael was expecting, but he’ll go along with it, because Carisi still seems a little flustered.
“It is just us here, Carisi.”
Carisi nods.
There’s an uncertainty in his eyes, and Rafael can’t understand why. Rafael’s intentions have to be crystal clear by now. Almost pathetically so. Right? Maybe he should have undone that extra button, after all. Maybe that would hav-
“Yeah, but… But when we’re at the precinct, you shouldn’t… Just… don’t do that in front of the others. Okay?”
Rafael starts to think that his intentions aren’t the problem. It’s Carisi’s intentions which are vague.
“What do you mean by ‘that,’ detective? What am I doing?”
Carisi downs half his bourbon in one go.
“You know. Callin’ me yummy. Lookin’ at me like you wanna… You know. Stuff like that. Flirtin’ with me. That’s… that should be private.”
Carisi does have a point.
A poorly conveyed, barely articulated point, but still. Perhaps such behavior is better reserved for more private settings.
Like a quiet bar.
Unlike Liv’s overcrowded office.
Maybe saying ‘yummy’ in that setting was a little much. Maybe that’s what’s bothering Carisi.
Maybe that’s why Carisi looks uncertain and can’t finish a sentence to save his life.
Maybe Carisi’s irritation isn’t an act.
Maybe Rafael should feel contrite.
Maybe Rafael got this all wrong.
Maybe Carisi gulped down the fancy bourbon because he wanted to broach an uncomfortable subject.
Maybe that was the purpose of this meeting.
Maybe this isn’t a date.
Maybe Carisi wanted some privacy to talk about the status of their restored relationship. To set up some ground rules, to re-establish boundaries, before anything else happens.
Eventually.
Hopefully.
After all, Carisi did say flirting was okay when it’s ‘just them.’
But not when they have an audience.
Rafael can’t find the fault in that logic. It was somewhat inappropriate of him to flirt like that in front of the entire squad. Rafael should have resisted the urge, but he forgot where he was, for a moment. All he could focus on was Carisi, and ‘obfuscate,’ and his desire to make Carisi smile, so Rafael just blurted it out.
Which is a problem in itself.
Rafael doesn’t speak out of turn. He doesn’t forget where it is. He can’t afford to. Since he was a kid, since he was in college, Rafael has always been acutely aware of his surroundings, and the behaviors expected of him.
Or so he thought, until Carisi came along.
Carisi makes him slip.
Always has.
Right now, Carisi looks all intense, brows furrowed and lips pursed, and Rafael wants to slip all the way into his mouth.
Not tonight.
They’re not there yet.
The distance between them has narrowed, but it hasn’t been eliminated. They’re close enough for ‘oh, Rafael,’ but not close enough for ‘yummy,’ and that’s Carisi’s decision to make, and Rafael’s to respect.
Rafael is happy to respect it.
He can’t deny he’s disappointed, but the date was just the icing on the cake.
They’re back to normal.
Maybe they’re not all the way there, but they’re close enough, and Rafael won’t screw up again.
He’s waited this long. He can wait a little longer. If Carisi wants more time before they can pick up exactly where they left off, Rafael is happy to provide it.
He’ll even provide some distance.
Literally.
Rafael grabs his tumbler and sits back, moving away from the table, and Carisi’s eyes follow his hands.
“You’re right, Carisi. Perhaps ‘yummy’ was a little too forward. I apologize. I’ll choose my words more carefully next time.”
Carisi smiles, like that’s what he wanted to hear, and Rafael is more relieved th-
“Delicious is no good either. Just so you know. For future reference.”
Rafael chuckles, and Carisi laughs along with him. They’re turning some heads, because this bar really is too quiet, and there’s not much laughter to be heard elsewhere, but Rafael doesn’t mind the attention. Not when Carisi looks even more relieved than he feels.
“Duly noted, detective.”
Carisi blinks, slowly, and Rafael could swear they were sitting further apart just a moment ago.
Rafael doesn’t even know who moved. If it was Carisi, or if it was him.
Just like the good old days.
Just like the first time.
Right in this bar.
Almost a year ago.
The last time he and Carisi had a pleasant conversation.
It was the night before Rafael filed the request to dismantle his security detail. Carisi was in his office taking the late shift, as always, protecting him, as always, distracting him, as always, and if Rafael was truly honest he would admit he and Carisi have been on countless dates.
Not one or two.
That night, they left Rafael’s office together, and they took a cab to The Double Windsor, because Rafael refused to be driven to an almost-date by a plainclothes police officer who reported to Carisi for a living.
Carisi kept the conversation going.
As always.
On the way there, Carisi said, ‘Maybe I should call ahead. I know the bartender. I’ll tell him to break out the good stuff. It’s not every day that a Manhattan A.D.A. graces their establishment with his presence.’
When they arrived, Carisi took the lead. He picked the table, and he nodded to the bartender, the one who’s gone now, and he pulled out a menu from out of nowhere, with a flourish, and he let Rafael pick the liquor.
Smooth by any measure.
As smooth as he could be, with three cops watching them like hawks from a few tables over.
Rafael doesn’t remember what they talked about. That last pleasant conversation, it’s a blur, blending into all the warm, easy conversations that came before it. Rafael just remembers Carisi’s smile, and the bourbon, and the way Carisi’s knee rested against his thigh.
Rafael just remembers wanting to get out of there, with Carisi but without the police escort, and knowing that was impossible.
Rafael remembers Carisi mentioning his cooking. Always a favorite topic. Carisi always had a habit of randomly reciting full recipes at the drop of a hat, complete with exact measurements and ingredient substitutions. He’d start and he’d keep going until somebody stopped him. Rafael never stopped him.
Rafael remembers saying, ‘I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.’
Rafael remembers Carisi saying, ‘You’ve come to the right guy, counselor. I got a home-cooked meal waiting at home. Enough to feed an army. Well, it’ll be home-cooked reheated leftovers, but that’s still better than what you’re eatin’, probably.’
Rafael distinctly remembers not saying, ‘I doubt your cooking is better than the haute cuisine I’m used to, Carisi.’
Rafael remembers asking, ‘Where is home?’ instead.
He remembers Carisi’s smile, and then the answer, quiet and hopeful.
‘My place is right around the corner.’
Rafael doesn’t remember Carisi’s apartment.
He doesn’t remember walking there. He just remembers Carisi’s long coat brushing against his leg.
Rafael doesn’t remember what they had. If they even had anything to eat.
He doesn’t remember Carisi’s living room, or the contents of Carisi’s bookcase, or the color of Carisi’s curtains.
Rafael just remembers how hard it was trying not to kiss him.
There was an unmarked police car downstairs.
Rafael remembers that.
Rafael remembers, because his driver rang the doorbell just when he decided to stop trying to stop.
Rafael can still see Carisi’s face.
They were so close.
Before.
They were standing so close, but that was as close as they were going to get, because Rafael’s driver had to check on him before a shift change.
Carisi smiled, and all Rafael could see was gratitude. Like Carisi was grateful they had even gotten that close. Like that was enough.
Rafael had never been so happy not to be kissed.
The next morning, he filed the request.
That afternoon, it all fell apart.
Almost a year ago.
Rafael doesn’t mean to dwell.
It’s this place.
It’s Carisi, looking at him with that same expression of gratitude.
That’s where the similarities end.
That, and with Carisi’s knee, still pressed against his thigh, as always.
Rafael was hoping to start over, to start from there, to start from that moment when they both leaned in and breathed out, but that’s not going to happen tonig-
“You alright, counselor?”
Carisi.
The question is rhetorical.
Rafael isn’t the only one affected by this place.
By the memories.
Still.
They needed this.
This first step.
The rest, it may not happen tonight, or even any time soon, but if it’s ever gonna happen, they’ll know where they stand.
For the most part.
Rafael empties his glass and thinks he’s still left with a question.
Rafael thinks maybe Carisi shouldn’t be the only one who gets to air out his grievances.
“Can I make a confession, Carisi?”
Carisi’s smirk looks even better three drinks in.
“I’m no priest, but have at it, Barba.”
What the hell.
“I’ve been treating this outing as a date.”
Carisi keeps smirking.
His eyes fall to Rafael’s neck again. He’s staring with a purpose, like he could undo more buttons if only he looked hard enough.
Rafael does his best to ignore it.
That, and the way Carisi keeps glancing at his lips.
Constantly.
This may not be a date, but the attraction between them is still there, still strong, Carisi’s desire is still strong, and Rafael almost feels guilty when he realizes Carisi is reacting to him instinctively. Grudgingly, maybe. This isn’t why Carisi asked him out tonight, or wh-
“You don’t say. What with the way you’ve been sittin’ all loose, with your tie all crooked and your hair all mussed. I never would’ve guessed.”
What’s that about Rafael’s hair?
Never mind.
“But since this is clearly not a date, and since you’ve already said your piece, maybe I can say mine.”
Carisi stares.
“Uh… You…”
“Let me finish, Caris-”
“No, wait, y-”
“Please.”
Carisi looks like he’s bursting to speak, but he stops trying to interrupt.
“I assumed this was a date, because of our more recent interactions. Because things between us have gotten better. Because lately you’ve been…”
Carisi, to his credit, does not try to finish that sentence.
“You’re more animated, and you’re smiling, and you’re giving me pointers again, and you call me Rafael, and…You seem to be over it now. What I… Right? You’ve forgiven me. You’re over what happened.”
Carisi exhales.
For several seconds.
“We can put it behind us. Right, Carisi? The death threats. You’re not going to… That’s over. You’re over it.”
Carisi’s jaw tightens with every word Rafael speaks. He probably wasn’t expecting this conversation, he wasn’t expecting Rafael to bring up the death threats after all this time, but Rafael had to do it.
Rafael wants to know.
“Right, Carisi? Obviously I’m still kicking, which means I was right, so y-”
“You weren’t right, Barba. You were lucky.”
Carisi is not over it.
Not even a little.
It’s written all over his face. The smirk is gone, and the irritation, and the confusion, and the desire is gone, too, and now Carisi just looks two parts angry and three parts sad.
Rafael both regrets asking, and is happy to have asked.
If this is ever gonna happen, they’ll need to know where they stand.
“Yes. I suppose I was lucky the extent of the threats was exaggerated by Heredio.”
Carisi winces at the mere mention of Heredio’s name.
Regret is starting to edge out happiness.
Rafael needs to lighten the mood, as much as it’s possible to lighten the mood when speaking of your own potential demise.
“Then again, it was a small risk to take. Regaining my ability to frequent high end boutiques versus possibly losing my life? I didn’t even have to think about it.”
Carisi does not laugh.
He just bites his lip.
His drink stays untouched.
He looks angrier and angrier by the second.
Carisi’s expression is giving Rafael flashbacks. It’s making Rafael think of all the time they wasted, one entire year, wasted, fighting, and it hurts more than he cares to adm-
“Yeah. Of course. Of course you didn’t, Barba. Why would you? It’s only your life.”
Rafael now regrets this completel-
“It’s a good thing, too. It’s a good thing you were okay with that. Dying. Possibly. That’s all that matters, right? What you thought. Guess the rest of us didn’t get a say.”
This is not what Rafael wanted when he got here tonight.
Rafael wanted to say ‘yummy’ again, to whisper it, he wanted to get Carisi to blush again, just like old times, Rafael wanted to get Carisi to kiss him, like they almost did, once before, Rafael wanted to end this night with his hand down Carisi’s pants, and his tongue in Carisi’s mouth, and his body pinned against Carisi’s ugly purple plaid bedspread, the one he only caught a glimpse of, the first and only time he ever found himself in Carisi’s home.
Not this.
Rafael doesn’t want this.
He doesn’t want to keep rehashing the past. He doesn’t want to see that anger on Carisi’s face ever again.
The pain, on Carisi’s face.
The love.
Not like this.
Rafael doesn’t want to waste another year fighting.
Rafael wants Carisi.
Now.
Rafael doesn’t want to waste another second.
So he doesn’t.
Rafael leans in and kisses Carisi hard, and clumsy, and off-center, and it’s rushed and it’s awkward and it doesn’t matter because Carisi is kissing back.
Carisi breathes out and gives in, Carisi turns his head and opens his mouth and Rafael closes his eyes.
They’re not alone.
They have an audience.
It doesn’t matter.
Rafael wants to touch Carisi’s face, Rafael wants to feel Carisi’s stubble, because it’s late, and Carisi practically looks unshaven now, feels unshaven, too, against Rafael’s lips, Rafael wants to grab Carisi by the shoulders and hold him in place, because this could be the first and last time they kiss, and…
And Rafael keeps his hands to himself.
Rafael wants to give Carisi the option to stop. To pull away and call him an idiot, for thinking this was okay.
Carisi does no such thing.
Carisi keeps kissing him.
Carisi grabs him by the shoulders instead, hands bunching up Rafael’s shirt sleeves, Carisi holds him in place, fingers digging into skin, and Rafael thinks this won’t be the last time.
It better not be.
Carisi’s hands move to Rafael’s neck, to his chest, fingers slipping under Rafael’s collar, right where Carisi’s eyes have been glued all night, and it’s like Carisi was dying to touch him, right there, and Rafael absently thinks that Carisi has a problem with flirting in front of an audience, but heavy petting is apparently A-Okay.
Rafael licks his way into Carisi’s mouth and stops thinking.
This is yummier than h-
“Yummy enough for ya, Rafael?”
Oh.
It’s over.
For now.
At least if the dreamy look on Carisi’s face is to be trusted.
Rafael wants to laugh. He spent the entire duration of their first kiss being emotionally compromised, and thinking he had screwed up all over again, while Carisi spent it fondling his chest hair and coming up with a cheesy line.
“Yummier than I expected.”
Carisi does laugh.
This is what Rafael wanted when he got here tonight.
Carisi, laughing again, like the time they lost has been erased.
The time they wasted, forgotten.
Rafael is s-
“You’re an idiot, Barba.”
Rafael is not exactly sure why Carisi would choose to say something like that in this particular juncture, but he’s too dazed from their kiss to really argue the point, so h-
“This was a date.”
What?
“What?”
Carisi smirks, again, and it’s the exact same smirk he had on his face when he ‘explained’ Baker v. Carr, or when he said ‘obfuscated,’ and Rafael wants t-
“This. It was a date. Or at least I wanted it to be. That’s the whole reason I asked you out. Things between us have gotten better, and I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. To make sure you weren’t just yanking my chain. It’s hard to tell if you’re bein’ serious when you say stuff like ‘yummy’ in front of, like, twelve other people. You gotta stop doin’ that, by the way. I just… I wanted to know if this was for real, or if you were just teasin’ me, like you did back when I first got here.”
Rafael is an idiot.
And so is Carisi, and Rafael loves him for it.
“It was real back then, too.”
Carisi’s jaw drops, and Rafael thinks they’re done wasting tim-
“Wait, so what you’re sayin’ is, you’ve been wasting my time for three years? We could’ve been doin’ this for three years?”
Rafael appreciates Carisi’s insight.
Carisi’s graceful way of turning that intimate confession into a joke.
Rafael was dead serious, and Carisi knows that, it’s written all over his face, the surprise, and the happiness, and the affection, but he refuses to let Rafael suffer the indignity of expressing genuine emotion.
Rafael loves him for that, too.
“You want to talk about wasting time, Carisi? How about that entire year of my life that you wasted? I’m not getting any younger. Somewhere down the line, you just might regret not spending that time with me.”
Carisi’s face is all sadness again, in the blink of an eye.
Rafael belatedly realizes that, not only did he indirectly reference the death threats again, he also made another insensitive joke about his own mortality.
He can only hope ‘somewhere down the line’ makes up for it, because it implies he and Carisi will still be together down the line, and he hopes Carisi picked up on that, Rafael hopes Carisi wants that, becaus-
“You weren’t wrong, Barba. I’m… I’m kinda over it. I’m gettin’ over it. There hasn’t been a threat against your life in over a year, it’s been… It’s almost sixteen months, now, and you’re safe, so... I’m trying. I don’t wanna waste any more time, you know?”
Rafael does know that. And he also knows that Carisi has been counting the months since the last threat, the days, too, probably, if not the hours, and that makes Rafael’s chest tighten.
What Rafael doesn’t know is why.
“Why did you get so angry, Carisi? Why waste all that time in the first place? If you cared about my safety that much, you could have stayed to protec-”
“Of course I care.”
Carisi’s statement is loud, and agonizing, and absolute.
Of course Carisi cares. Rafael didn’t mean to imply otherwise. He just wanted to know why Carisi didn’t stay with h-
“But I couldn’t stay. Not after Dodds. Not when I knew what that felt like. Loss. Not when Heredio refused to give up his bosses. Not when you suddenly decided you didn’t need a security detail because they were a minor inconvenience while you were out shoppin’.”
A minor inconvenience?
Rafael begins to suspect that Carisi has no idea wh-
“What if something happened to you, Barba? And we were… And we were together? I couldn’t live with that. I figured, better if we’re fighting. If we hate each other.”
Rafael pours the rest of the bottle, half in his tumbler and half in Carisi’s. And then he reconsiders, and dumps out all of Carisi’s bourbon in his own glass.
Rafael takes a sip, and another, and another, as Carisi watches him.
They’re both idiots.
“I got rid of my security detail because of you, Carisi. Because we had gotten close, and I wanted to get even closer, which is technically not allowed, as I’m sure you’re aware, and we couldn’t do that with two patrol cars parked outside my apartment building every night.”
Carisi looks hilariously angry.
For once, Rafael doesn’t min-
“What? Are you crazy? Is that wh… Is that why you filed the request right after we… You… You put this, you and me, you put this over your own life?”
That’s now how Rafael would put it, but it’s not wrong, either.
“Haven’t you been listening, Carisi? I put high end boutiques over my own life. Don’t flatter yourself.”
Carisi deflates, just like that.
“I… I didn’t know, Barba. That’s why I was so mad. And… And the longer I avoided you, the longer I stayed mad, the harder it was to… I thought you had a death wish, or somethin’. I thought this was your suicidal streak talking.”
Rafael smiles at the memory.
“I’m afraid not, detective. I was just horny.”
Carisi laughs, sincere, free, and now, now they’re back to normal.
Carisi radiates happiness, just like he’s supposed to.
Always.
Carisi is happy, and his happiness is so clear, and so bright, and Rafael thinks maybe genuine emotion isn’t that bad.
“If something happened to me, Sonny, and we weren’t together. That’s what I couldn’t live with. I figured, better if I have you.”
Carisi, Sonny, looks completely and utterly in love.
That’s the only word that comes to Rafael’s mind.
Love.
It’s possible he’s projecting.
And then Sonny kisses him again, and Rafael realizes it doesn’t matter.
The time they lost has been erased.
The time they wasted, forgotten.
Three years, and they never got a real chance to start.
“You know, Rafael, my place is right around the corner.”
