A/N: This is my first (published) SVU fic in over two years, and my first time writing Rafael. I absolutely love ADA Barba and Raul Esparza, and I hope you enjoy.
"Someone to hold me too close, someone to force me to care," Rafael sang softly as he slid his silky purple tie out from around his neck. Company was one of his favorite musicals, had been ever since he'd seen the 2006 Broadway revival, and its cast album was the only thing preserving his mood tonight. Sure, he'd won the case, and beating Rita in court was always a good time, but now he had to do something he knew he'd been putting off for much too long: he had to work out.
Barba took a moment to scowl at the gym bag lurking in the corner of his office as he shrugged off his vest. Carmen had gone home for the evening, so he had decided it was safe to just change in his office before heading out for the run - okay, slow jog - to which he was absolutely not looking forward. He had just tossed his rumpled dress shirt into his desk chair and was beginning to strip off his undershirt when there came a knock at his office door.
"Come in," the ADA called reflexively, then suddenly realized that - duh! - he was indecent.
"Wait!" Rafael called to his evening visitor, but to no avail. The door to his office swung open before he was able to cover himself and there in the doorway stood none other than Detective Dominick "Call Me Sonny" Carisi.
Great.
"Oh - I'm sorry, counselor!" The young detective stammered as his mentor struggled to cover his exposed midsection. "I'll, uh - I'll wait outside."
The door swung shut with a heavy click and Rafael felt his face burning. It was just his luck that the man on whom he'd been trying desperately to ignore his crush would walk in and see him shirtless. It was, the attorney believed, a sight to which no one should be forced to be subjected, and at the moment he wanted nothing more than to crawl under his desk and never come out. Well, he reasoned sourly, If I was worried about navigating a relationship with Carisi, at least I know now that it's out of the question! After all, he reasoned, there was no way in hell the fit young detective would want to be with him after seeing first hand how much he'd let himself go.
Barba blinked hard and took a deep breath. He'd never been one to wallow in self-pity, and he figured now could be no exception, especially since this was a situation into which he'd gotten himself - he was the one who decided to change in the office, the one who left the door unlocked, and the one who'd instinctively called out for Sonny to come in, (if he'd known the detective was coming, Rafael might even have been inclined to think inviting him in was a bit of a Freudian slip - that maybe he wanted Carisi to see him undressing,) not to mention the fact that he was the one who'd spent months comfort eating every night when he came home after work to an empty apartment and a headache.
Yes, this mess was his fault, and the only thing he could do was finish changing and then face the music - or, at least, face the unjustly sexy detective.
It was several more minutes before Rafael left the confines of his office. Even after he'd finished changing (which took longer than expected - these pants definitely hadn't always been so tight,) he found himself taking a few extra moments to get his emotions in check so that he could avoid showing any weakness in front of Sonny. He just knew he'd be facing one of two reactions: Carisi would either poke fun at him for the extra weight around his middle, or awkwardly and conspicuously avoid broaching the subject as if a few (okay, maybe more than a few) extra pounds were the most shameful of taboos. Barba wasn't sure which would be worse.
When he did finally emerge from behind the heavy wooden door, stone faced but barely breathing, Sonny's behavior was in fact not at all something the ADA had seen coming.
"I'm so sorry, counselor," Detective Carisi said urgently. "I didn't mean to intrude or anythi-" He stopped short when he noticed Barba's attire - tight running pants and a snug-fitting blue sweatshirt - which was so different from the three-piece suits in which he was accustomed to seeing him. "You going for a run or something?"
Rafael cursed internally as he felt his face flushing. He was one of the palest Cubans he knew, and it was such a curse sometimes. "Yes, detective," he snapped. "As I'm sure you noticed, I could use the exercise. I assume whatever it was you wanted can wait until tomorrow. Now, if you'll excuse me." He tried to walk past Carisi towards the door, but the lanky detective sidestepped in front of him to block his path.
"Hold on now," Carisi began, his voice raising ever so slightly. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Barba sighed heavily. Apparently whatever it was could not, in fact, wait until tomorrow. "I'm sorry, detective. If it's really that urgent, then let's have it. What did you need? Is there another case?"
"What? No," Carisi scowled. "I came up here to - uh - well never mind that." He ran a hand through his over-gelled hair and paused as he tried to find the right words. Barba waited impatiently; by now he was ready to forget his run altogether. What he needed was Oreos, a hot shower, and sleep to put this mortifying experience as far behind him as possible.
"I just, uh, what do you mean, 'you could use the exercise?'" Sonny finally stammered.
Barba stared.
When he realized his mouth had been hanging open silently for an unbecoming length of time, Rafael also came to the sudden and horrifying realization that this detective - this overconfident, disrespectful little punk of a detective on whom he'd been foolish enough to have a crush, for God's sake - was making fun of him. He had to be; that was the only plausible explanation.
Despite all his efforts to maintain decorum, Rafael was nearly shaking as he hissed, "You've made your point, detective. Now kindly get out."
Sonny's brow furrowed in confusion, serving only to further infuriate the shorter man.
"You're very funny, Carisi," Barba spat. "I know it's hard to resist a joke when the fat guy decides to work out, but-"
"Whoa! Whoa!" Sonny cut him off. "What the hell are you talking about?" His eyes were wide and his arms were up at his face defensively, and Rafael almost felt bad for speaking to him so harshly. Almost.
"Counselor, I wasn't trying to make fun of you," Carisi said earnestly, "I swear. And as for this notion that you're 'the fat guy-'"
It was Barba's turn to interrupt, scoffing loudly. "Oh, come on, Carisi! You just saw me shirtless! It's not like we can stand here and pretend that I don't need to lose any weight!"
"You don't!" Sonny insisted, and the look in his eyes was so genuine that Barba was nearly inclined to believe him.
"Carisi-" Rafael started, his tone much softer and his body language calmer as he tried to reason with the detective before him, but the detective held up his hand to stop him.
"Rafael, I came up here to ask you out," he admitted softly.
Once again, Barba found himself staring blankly. He was beginning to feel like a broken record - and one of John Cage's "4' 33"" at that.
"Well, I guess you don't have to worry about that anymore," Rafael joked weakly when he finally realized Sonny had nothing else to say. "I'll spare you the embarrassment of having to let me down gently - I know you'd never want to go out with me after seeing me like that."
"Seeing you like what?" Carisi's voice was quiet and he started to reach out his hands only to pull them back into his body, almost like he wanted to touch Rafael but then thought better of it.
"Don't make me say it, detective," Barba whispered. God, he hated that he'd let himself get broken down like this, standing in the entranceway to his own office in a several-pounds-ago running outfit on the verge of tears in front of the man he'd been trying for weeks to talk himself out of ambushing with a kiss. When Carisi said nothing, Rafael finally felt a tear run down his cheek as he answered, "Old. Vulnerable. Fat."
"Oh, God," Sonny said softly, and the next thing Barba knew he felt long arms wrapping around his body in a way he'd been craving (though he'd never imagined such circumstances.) "Rafael," he said gently, "How could you think that of yourself?" Barba gave a sharp laugh, so Carisi kept talking.
"You're not old, counselor," Sonny assured him. "You're what, eight, nine years older than me? That's nothing. And besides," he added conspiratorially, leaning back a bit to look the attorney in the eyes, "I like a man with experience."
"Are you coming on to me, detective?" Rafael smiled gently, a hint of snark returning to his voice as he began to let himself believe that maybe Carisi wasn't just pulling his leg.
"I might be," Carisi countered, "If you can let yourself be vulnerable enough to give me a shot. Letting people in ain't always a bad thing, you know." Barba laughed softly, genuinely for the first time all night.
"And as for fat?" The detective chose to ignore his companion's sharp intake of breath and kept talking: "A person can't be fat, Rafael. You have fat. And so what? As a matter of fact," he grinned, "I think your little tummy's kinda cute."
Somehow, in the time since Carisi knocked on his office door, staring dumbly at the detective must have become Rafael Barba's modus operandi, for here he found himself doing it yet again, completely dumbfounded by the notion that anyone could find his extra weight anything but a disgusting reminder of his weak willpower and his laziness.
"So, counselor," Sonny practically purred, backing up a bit and shoving his thumbs in the pockets of his dress pants, "Dinner?"
Rafael blinked. God, he wanted to have dinner with this man, this beautiful, sweet man who made him feel like maybe he could feel okay with his body someday. He still wanted to lose some weight, though, and he was afraid Carisi would try to ply him with Italian desserts he would be utterly helpless to resist. Best to set some ground rules, then, he reasoned. "Fine," Barba conceded, "But I'm putting my suit back on first. And I'm getting a salad."