The first one came a few days before Christmas.
When Rafael Barba's mail arrived at the office, he set the delicately wrapped package aside and impatiently grabbed a letter he had long been waiting for.
He didn't think about the box until hours later when he was ready to leave for the evening. It had been delivered from what appeared to be a fancy chocolaterie on Broome.
When Rafael had removed the wrapping paper he couldn't help but smile. The box inside was decorated with a festive dark red ribbon and there was a small sticker that said "Cherry & Whiskey Truffle."
This was expensive stuff, the real thing, hand-made and extravagant.
He didn't know who had sent him this, and he didn't care. Probably the note had gotten lost while it was delivered here. All he knew was that he would go home, make himself comfortable on the couch and spend the evening with a good book and a well deserved treat.
It was early January.
Rafael just got off the phone with Benson when Carmen's face appeared at the door.
"Mr. Barba? I just came back from lunch and found this on my desk. I think it's for you?"
Rafael glanced at the little box Carmen was holding and instantly recognized the wrapping paper.
As she left the room, Rafael walked back to his desk and unwrapped his unexpected present. Chocolates, again. This time the ribbon was green and the tag read "Ecuador 60% & Sea Salt Pistachios."
He smiled. This combination sounded like it was made for him and he instinctively wanted to rip the box open and try one right now.
He paused. It was a little weird, though. The first one could have been a Christmas present. But this?
Why would anyone send him candy out of the blue?
And who?
His birthday was months away. And he wasn't seeing anyone at the moment.
His mother? Out of the question, she was a complete health nut and always very critical about his weight.
His friends? Rafael was lucky when they remembered to call him on his birthday (not that he did any better).
Or maybe … his smile turned into a smirk.
He had a secret admirer.
When Benson, Tutuola, Rollins and Carisi sat down at the table in Rafael's office for their meeting, the trap was about to be set. Rafael picked up a small box next to the coffee machine and took a seat. He made a big show of slowly removing the orange ribbon before placing the box on a plate in the middle of the table.
"Help yourselves, they're excellent. Tangerine Nougat, from Mariebelle's."
The surprised looks on their faces were hilarious: Rafael usually never offered the detectives anything but coffee. Good. Now he had their attention. He was sure if one of them was his secret admirer he would be able to tell from their reaction. This was going to be a piece of cake for an ADA of his caliber.
He took one chocolate out of the box and put it into his mouth. His gaze wandered across his colleagues' faces, trying to gauge their reactions.
Tutuola couldn't hide his impatience. He stared back at Barba with eyes wide open, as though he wanted to say, "You're wasting my time, let's get to it."
No surprise there, Rafael didn't really think of Fin as the type who secretly pined for male co-workers and sent them candy.
Rollins looked down at her phone, obviously ignoring anything Rafael was saying and waiting for a cue from Benson to get down to business.
Benson, however, was harder to read. She had quirked up an eyebrow and smiled mildly. Out of all of them she knew him best and had probably figured out already that he was either up to something. But like Fin she was more of the direct type. If she was the one who sent him these, she would probably be teasing him about it at this point.
Carisi looked at Rafael with an air of confusion and … was it admiration? Rafael had always had his suspicions. Before he could say something that would undoubtedly make him feel even more flustered, Carisi's hand reached forward to take a chocolate. He eyed it suspiciously.
Cute. Rafael had told him to take one and he had.
Carisi took a bite. A second later he grimaced and threw his half-eaten chocolate into the wastepaper basket.
"That's not chocolate!? They should pay people to eat this."
The case was clear. Or, in other words, it wasn't at all. Rafael felt almost disappointed. He rolled his eyes and turned to Liv.
"Fine, where are we with the Thompson case?"
Espresso Bean.
Fig & Japanese Pear.
Super Dark Banana.
Milk Chocolate & Black Salt.
It had been almost two months now. Every Monday a new delivery, without fail. He still didn't know who sent him these.
His little experiment with the SVU detectives had failed. So had the two others he had staged for his co-workers at the DA's office. Either he wasn't as sharp as he used to be or the secret admirer wasn't someone he worked with.
He didn't complain, however. There were more important things to worry about, and he looked forward to each Monday with an almost childish glee, excited to find out what flavor it would be this time.
The only setback about this was something he hadn't wanted to admit at first. But now there was no denying that his shirts and waistcoats had become noticeably tighter. Soon he would be at the weight from two years ago.
With a sigh he stroked his growling tum that was impatiently expecting its next ration of candy. He considered unbuttoning his pants that were a little tight around his waist (even with an empty stomach) when suddenly he heard a familiar voice outside of his office. Through the half-raised blinds he saw a tall figure walk towards his door. His brow furrowed and he let out another sigh, this time out of frustration. He wasn't ready for this now.
A sharp knock on the door and Rita Calhoun let herself in without waiting for an answer.
She seemed to be in a good mood which usually meant that Rafael's was about to darken considerably.
He automatically got up, thankful that he had decided against unbuttoning his pants.
"Rita, always a pleasure."
She didn't answer at first, just kept looking at him with a smug smile on her face. Rafael only now noticed that she had her hands behind her back.
"Having a good Monday so far, Rafael?"
"It keeps getting better and better," he said as he sat back down.
"Oh, I know it does, believe me."
With one swift movement she took a seat–and placed the small box she had hidden behind her back on his desk.
Purple ribbon. Milk chocolate. Probably 50%.
"Thought you would've figured it out by now. Losing your bite, huh? Getting a little—soft?"
Rita's gaze wandered from his face down to his midriff.
Rafael felt himself blush, albeit more from anger than shame. But as usual his snark won the upper hand.
"You know, Rita, bribing an ADA is a prosecutable offence. Or are you trying to recompense me for your dull delay tactics during the Thompson case?"
"Aren't you curious what it is this time?" she asked, ignoring his jabs.
He was beginning to enjoy this. With an expression of mock-excitement he picked up the box to read the tag.
Cognac & Candied Lavender.
It took all of Rafael's self-composure not to let the emotion show that took hold of him in this moment. It was a feeling of pure nostalgia. One sweet summer. Short, too short. France. Him & her. Lavender fields.
When he finally managed to look at Rita again, her smile was sincere.
"You lost a lot of weight last year. And you always seem to worry about something or other. If you're not taking care of yourself, someone else will have to."
"You used to be good at that."
No. Too much. Damn it, Rafael.
Rita shuffled in her chair. This was getting way more sentimental than she had planned. She got up with a sigh. Before she reached the door she turned around.
"Dinner? Tomorrow, 7:30? My place. I'll make us a kick-ass lasagna."
Rafael had regained part of his composure and raised an eyebrow.
"I hope it's better than your "kick-ass" Filet Mignon. The last time you cooked that for me I came down with food poisoning."
"Trust me, Rafael, some people can change in twenty years. See you tomorrow. And wear those pants. They fit you perfectly."
With a low chuckle she left the room.
Rafael absentmindedly played with the chocolate box in his hands as he made his decision. He would come. But only for the lasagna, of course.