A/N: As I sit down to work on the next chapters of the few fics I have going, an idea pops into my head and I just can't NOT write it. Ugh...my priorities are seriously messed up at this point. Anyway, this is a little look into Rafael Barba and the feelings he refuses to acknowledge. I was thinking of making this a two-shot, but that's up in the air for right now. Let me know what you think!

If there was one person Lucia Barba knew better than herself, it was her son.

Of course, part of this was because he was her baby. Her only child. The love of her life, in this world and the next.

The sacrifices she made (with no help from her late husband) to ensure he had clothes on his back, food in his mouth and a roof over his head, had all been worth it. Working two jobs to pay the rent while watching after a drunk and a little boy with a smart mouth was no easy feat, but they made it through just fine.

Rafael had a strong personality. He was extremely intelligent, using it as a weapon of defense when he was growing up on the mean streets of the barrio they lived in for 18 years. He'd also been very studious, always with his nose shoved in a book and constantly doing homework for the honors classes he signed up for during high school.

Aside from school, he had a mouth that tended to get him into trouble and a pride that wouldn't allow him to back down from a fight, whether that be during school or under their own roof. Unfortunately, this lead to a few bloody noses and black eyes, but he always shrugged off the pain to save some face, even in front of her.

Her son was a strong individual in general, not easily broken. Even during that horrible break-up with what's-her-name during his time in law school. He refused to lose focus and let his education suffer just because of a broken heart. Instead, he buried the hurt and pain like he did everything else and moved on with life, eventually getting over it entirely and reassuring her that he was just fine.

But she never thought he was fine after that.

Rafael had been such an optimistic kid growing up, always dreaming of making a difference in the world and living a good life with a good career. He'd wake up, excited to start the day, always intending to make it better than the last. It always made her smile, despite what might have gone on the night before or if she was in for a long day of work. That beaming smile could always give her the strength to get up and get moving.

When he came home from college, finally after four solid years of non-stop working, he didn't have the same optimistic smile he wore every day before he left her for Harvard. Instead, he had a permanent frown, tired eyes and a cynical outlook on the world around him.

What ensued was nearly 25 years of her son tirelessly working to build a reputation in the world of law. Fancy suits, perfect hair and an impenetrable mask on his face. He'd grown insecure in his years during college. She suspected him being a scholarship kid didn't help him to fit in with his peers and it was clear to see that he trying to make up for that during his adult years.

Fortunately, despite the drastic changes he'd made in his life to fit the profile of a high-powered New York City lawyer, it never changed their Saturday night dinner tradition, which she established right after he'd bought his first apartment. She couldn't bear the thought of not seeing him at least once a week, knowing full well he was going to continue down the path of being a workaholic with little to no time on his hands for personal matters.

It was a tradition unbroken (except for a brief time they didn't speak after her mamí passed), even after all these years. She'd cook dinner and dessert, whatever he wanted that night, and he'd always show up at 6 p.m. on the dot with an appetite and a week's full of frustration ready to be unloaded.

She found it amusing that he chose to vent to her, even though she didn't know half of what he was talking about and just nodded, giving him her full attention. Usually, it was always about work. Trials and defense attorneys that were getting on his nerves, witnesses reversing on the stand (whatever that meant) …regular run of the mill things he brought up every Saturday.

There was also something else he brought up every time and by something she meant someone. A certain Lieutenant of the Special Victims Unit he worked with closely. They met briefly before her mother passed and she brazenly told the woman about driving her son crazy.

He never not had something to say about her. Whether it be praise, annoyance or simply a retelling of a story he told prior. Her son was being completely obvious in the way he spoke, but she suspected he had no damn idea and that was typical Rafael.

"…and I clearly said no but she just doesn't back down. So, I go to the judge and basically have to kiss his ass in order to get this warrant. Long story short, Liv doesn't take no for answer, especially from me."

Lucia nodded, smiling as she twirled some noodles around her fork and watched her son getting seconds from the pot on the stove. He'd been going on for close to an hour about the Lieutenant and she couldn't have been happier.

Well, if he would realize that he was in love with the woman he constantly talked about then that would make her twice as happy.

But alas, her son had a thick skull and was stubborn to a fault. If he realized it, he wouldn't go through with anything. He'd bury those feelings (like he did everything else he didn't have time nor want to deal with) and move on with life, never settling down and giving her any grandchildren.

Did he know how embarrassing it was that she had no pictures of grandchildren to show when her and her old gang from high school got together every other month for brunch? 47! He was 47 and had the audacity to make her wait.

"Do you want more bread, mami?"

"No, honey, I'm fine."

Rafael walked back to the table, piece of bread hanging out of his mouth and another heaping plate in his hands.

Lucia had to wonder if any of his colleagues had ever seen this side of her son. The side of Rafael Barba that could down three plates of spaghetti and still have room for dessert later. How many people knew he loved horror films and had classic movie posters loitering the office in his apartment? Or the fact that he had a serious infatuation with cinnamon flavored anything and talked in his sleep?

Sometimes, it made her incredibly sad that she was the only person who knew these things about him. She didn't want to admit that she gave up hope for her boy ever finding anyone. He was one of the busiest people she could think of, and while it made her happy that he was doing something he truly loved and making a difference in the lives of victims, he needed breaks and relaxation in between.

Honestly, she was afraid he was going to work himself to death one of these days.

"Anyway, tell me about this guy you're seeing tomorrow? Name. Birthday. Occupation. Social security number for a background check."

Lucia rolled her eyes, knowing he was kidding but actually kind of serious.

"Who's the parent, here?"

"Who's the concerned son that doesn't want his mother getting in to trouble, here?"

"Trouble? This coming from the person I had to pick up at the police station at 3 a.m. when he was fifteen for breaking into the high school and t. the principal's office."

"I was double dared, mom. You can't back down from a double dare," Rafael sighed and shoved a fork full of food into his mouth, knowing it was a bullshit excuse but loving the fact it annoyed her to no end.

"You're lucky I was able to flirt your way out of being expelled and being charged."

Rafael grimaced, wanting to skip over the conversation and forget all about his teenage years. That was a dark spot that could drift through a black hole and never return for all he cared.

"Don't remind me."

"Anyway, I'm more interested in hearing about Ms. Benson. It is Ms., right?"

"Yeah," Rafael furrowed his brow, "What about her?"

"Well, does she know you're in love with her?"

He was lucky he didn't spit the soda he's just poured into his mouth, or choke on it as he quickly swallowed it down so he could sputter and look at his mom like she was mad.

Lucia had to bite back a giggle, taking a neatly wrapped bite of noodles. Her eyes narrowed in on a small smudge of sauce on his dress shirt and she made a mental note for later so she could wash it out for him.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Language," she admonished, pointing a finger as he rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Hell isn't a curse word."

"It is in my house."

"Mom."

"What?"

Her son looked ready to rip his hair out and she wanted to ask what the big deal was. Her son couldn't be that dense. He had to realize that he was head over heels, right?

…right?

One could only hope.

"Why would you say something like that?"

"What, that you're in love with Lieutenant Benson? Why wouldn't I say that? I'm only speaking the truth."

Rafael stuttered, looking utterly confused, shocked and like his biggest, deepest secret had just been exposed to a room full of people and not just her. She sipped at her glass of water and observed every emotion pass over his handsome face, the slow realization dawning and sparkling in his green eyes.

It was like a light bulb suddenly ignited over his head, his eyebrows shooting up and a deep breath escaping past his lips as he made eye contact with her. Lucia nodded, trying not to look too smug at his baffled look.

Ok, he could be that dense, but she wouldn't hold that against him. He was a smart man, but not when it came to his own feelings.

"I…I don't know…," he sputtered and sat back in his chair. Lucia eyed him as she took another bite of her spaghetti, unable to hold back the excited grin on her face.

"Honey, if you took a break occasionally, you probably would have realized this before I ever brought it up."

Lucia reached for a lone piece of bread on the edge of his plate and tore of a piece, still watching his face intently. He was going through such a vast range of emotions, unhidden in the comfort of her home and only for her eyes to see. She suspected he didn't do this in his everyday life, with the usual suspects surrounding him.

"I…," he trailed but shook his head, looking at his plate of food like it held all the answers to questions he was probably asking himself at that very moment. Lucia put down her fork and grabbed for her drink.

"Rafi, this honestly can't be such a shock. I'm sure you buried your feelings for her a long time ago just like you do with everything else. Really, it's unhealthy to do that sweetheart. I think there's a study about it, if I remember correctly. Oh, shoot, I wish I could remember the name of that magazine."

Rafael cut of her off, waving his hands wildly frantically to get her to stop rambling for a moment.

"Mamí…how?"

It was an odd question, not alluding to anything, but she knew what he was asking her and it made her roll her eyes so hard she saw spots. She stood up from the table and grabbed her plate, leaving his after he grabbed it away from her and shoved some garlic toast in his mouth.

"You're forgetting I carried you for 9 months and raised you for 18 years, sweetie. I know you better than you know yourself."

He chewed thoughtfully, leg bouncing anxiously underneath the table. She quickly rinsed off her plate and shoved it in the dishwasher before she moved to the still steaming, freshly baked cinnamon rolls she made. He didn't say anything the entire time she fixed them coffee and plated dessert. She knew he was probably having an internal crisis, trying to think of what he was going to say before he opened his mouth again.

"You done having a break down?"

Rafael sent her a half-hearted glare and grabbed the cup of coffee she offered him.

"I'm not having a break down. I was just thinking about awkward I'm going to be around her now. Did you have to bring this topic up? Because you might have just ruined a really great professional relationship."

"Oh, blaming me for your inability to acknowledge your feelings?"

She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow, daring him to blame her for anything. He wisely kept his mouth shut, eyeing the cinnamon rolls in front of him but he didn't take a bite.

"It's that inability that's kept me from losing focus," he rubbed at his eyes and rested his elbows on the table.

"Losing focus from what? You're job? At this point, I don't think anything could make you lose focus," she countered. She took a bite of the warm rolls and almost moaned in satisfaction. She outdid herself this time. Just the right amount of icing and-

"Mom…I don't have time to deal with feelings. I'm too busy dealing with everyone else's. Mine take a backseat and I'm fine with that."

That's what worried her.

"I'm not fine with that, but what do I know, I'm just your mother."

She tried not laugh when groaned and threw his head back dramatically, staring up at the ceiling and running a hand through his gelled hair, effectively messing it up.

"You don't understand. I've known Liv for a couple years now and I may have…become infatuated with her…attracted to her, but it wouldn't ever work out. We're too busy. She has a son and a team to look after and I have all these cases getting ready to go to trial."

"That's exactly why you two would be perfect for each other."

Rafael scoffed at the idea but she kept speaking, not wanting him to blow her off just yet.

"You two work the same cases, deal with the same issues. You know what her job entails and she knows what your job deals with. It sounds like you two spend a lot of your working hours together, not to mention those bar outings and work dinners you have. What's the big hold up here, son?"

Rafael shook his head, "She probably doesn't feel the same way. Why would she? Look at me, I'm a mess."

Lucia kicked him under the table, raising an eyebrow in another warning. That look scared him as a child, sending him running off to his room or out to the park down the street with his friends.

"You're not a mess, Rafael. And why wouldn't she feel the same way about you? You're handsome, you're funny, you're a hard worker and you don't back down from a challenge!"

"I'm a workaholic with too much pride and the beginnings of a drinking problem."

Lucia sighed and leaned forward, grabbing his hands forcing him to hold hers. He glanced up at her, lips pursed like he was ready to refute anything that she was going to say. That was her son. Always the fighter.

"You are so much more than that. If this woman has eyes and a brain in her head, then she knows that, too."

They were quiet for a good two minutes this time, leaving her to rub her thumbs across his knuckles while his eyes moved erratically across the table. Finally, he sighed and grumbled under his breath.

"You're right," he said, albeit reluctantly.

"I know I am."

That earned her a little smirk but it was gone in seconds. She examined the top of his head since that was the only thing she could see. She decided to ask him a question, thinking he was ready to answer it honestly.

"Do you love her?"

He nodded, but still didn't look her.

"Then why don't you tell her?"

"What if she turns me down?"

He was uncharacteristically quiet, clutching her hands like they were his life line. Few times did she ever see her son like this and it called to a deep feeling of protectiveness in her chest. How she wished she could take away all his insecurities and painful memories that kept him from opportunities like this. The thought that he was afraid of putting himself out there emotionally hurt her heart.

But she wouldn't let him back down. She had a feeling like this fretting was all for naught, anyhow.

"Honey…you never know if you don't try. What happens if you keep this buried? She rides off into the sunset with another man, thinking she's found the best she's going to get and you spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been? I don't want you to regret your life, Rafi. I want you to live it to the fullest and if that means risking a professional relationship for the sake of love, then you should do it. Go tell her you love her."

There was a moment of silence between them before he got up and pulled her into a hug.

"You're an amazing mom," he whispered, squeezing her tighter and almost lifting her off her feet. She laughed and patted the back of his head, feeling warm at his words.

"You'll always be my baby," she whispered back, pressing a kiss to his temple as she pulled back and patted his face, "Now go get her!"

Rafael stood there for a second, the nervousness he was feeling kept him rigid. She had to physically push him towards the door, reminding him there was no more running from his feelings. She helped him shrug his suit jacket back on and waited for him to slip his shoes on.

"Should I pick up some flowers or wine or something?"

"Maybe some wine. She doesn't seem like the flower type."

"Ok," he nodded and turned to the door, opening it up but turned around and looked worried as he glanced at the clock on the living room wall, "But do you think it's too late? It's almost 7:45. Noah's bed time is eight and she may already be getting ready for bed- "

"Rafael, you really don't want to know what I'm going to do if you don't leave within the next five seconds. Get. Out."

Rafael gulped and nodded, giving her a quick hug and kiss before he finally left.

"Love you! Good luck!"

Lucia chuckled and watched him disappear around the corner to the stairwell before she shut the door with a smirk. A stray thought ran across her mind and she quickly went to the kitchen to grab a small, plastic bag. She walked back out to the kitchen table and bagged two big cinnamon rolls just as there was a knock on her door.

She didn't bother to look through the peep hole, knowing who it was and what he wanted. When she opened the door, her son barely had to greet before she shoved the bag in his hands. He smiled and bid her goodbye and goodnight again, promising to call her tomorrow.

With her job finished, she set about cleaning up and putting away leftovers so she could get some beauty sleep. She had a date tomorrow, after all.

Hopefully, her son did too.