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The first time Rafael says something in Spanish, Sonny pretends he doesn’t understand.
He does, of course, Sonny speaks Spanish fairly well. Not fluently, not like Rafael, not like Amaro, not like the Lieu, but he can hold his own in a conversation, he can Mirandize, thank you very much, and he speaks Italian fluently, so Spanish wasn’t a stretch for him. Anyway, Sonny is a cop in NYC, Spanish is sort of a necessity, and Sonny is nothing if not a good cop.
But Rafael is murmuring Spanish endearments at him: Corazon and carino and mi amor and there is no way Sonny is interrupting that to tell Rafael that he understands every word. There’s a murmured te amo in there and Sonny bites back his own declaration of love.
***
He means to tell Rafael he can speak Spanish. He really does. But there’s never a good time, because the only time Rafael lapses into Spanish is when they’re having sex, and Sonny is thoroughly distracted, or right after, when Rafael is murmuring endearments at him, and the last thing Sonny wants is the open, loving expression on Rafael’s face to shutter and close.
So he says nothing. He pretends. He doesn’t lie, but he hides that Spanish is his third language (fourth, if you count Latin, and since Sonny is – was? – a good Catholic boy, perhaps counting Latin is not such a stretch). Some nights, he murmurs back in Italian, amore. He doesn’t miss the way Rafael smiles a little wider.
***
It’s been months. It’s been months, and he really should drop into the conversation at some point that he can speak Spanish. Especially when Rafael switches into it to talk to his mother, as if that would hide anything from Sonny.
By now, he can read Rafael’s tone, he doesn’t need his words. But he can understand the words, and he knows Rafael would take the call elsewhere if he knew Sonny understood the Spanish he was using.
But Sonny is weak, sometimes, and he still doesn’t want this to end, the openness, so he says nothing, just places a kiss on the side of his boyfriend’s neck while Rafael rants, grinning at the glare Rafael levels at him.
***
He never got to control when it comes out. Because Rafael is there at the precinct one day, drinking a coffee, while Sonny manhandles a suspect in.
Sonny doesn’t notice him. Sonny is a little busy intimidating this guy into talking, this… this… motherfucker who they had found in a house with a locked-up little girl, and Sonny is damned if he is going to leave the precinct without getting a full, signed confession from this perp.
Except the perp only speaks Spanish.
Which, of course, Sonny has no trouble with.
So Sonny is in the middle of a very long, very creative threat of exactly what he will do to the suspect’s balls – perhaps not how to get a confession that will hold up in court, he reflects, but the memory of the scared little girl haunts him – when he hears a sharp inhalation of breath from his right.
Sonny finishes his threat – it involves deep-frying and feeding it to seagulls on the beach, and that was the least creative part, he’s proud of this threat – and glances over his shoulder to see what this was about. Probably the Lieu about to chew him out for talking to a suspect like that.
Except it’s Rafael.
Ohshit.
Sonny recognizes that look – we need to talk – so he hands off the suspect to Fin and dusts his hands. “Problem, counselor?” he asks as lightly as he can. They’re not out at work yet.
“I don’t think a confession elicited by threatening to remove his balls with a baby spoon so that it will hurt more will hold up in court. And I’m pretty sure threatening to use the scrotal sack as an ornamental bag and send it to his mom bedazzled was just unnecessary,” Rafael says blandly, picking at an imaginary piece of lint. “Didn’t they teach you anything at Fordham?”
“Counselor, I…”
“Save it, Carisi,” Liv says, holding up her hand. “And Barba, the conference room is open, because I know that there’s more to this.” She herds them towards it and shuts the door firmly behind them.
Rafael faces Sonny immediately. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands. “That you understood every word? That you spoke Spanish, at least well enough to issue such a threat?”
“Because I didn’t want you to stop saying those words,” Sonny says immediately, honestly. “Because I knew that if you knew I understood, I’d never heard those words again, and I couldn’t have that.” Honesty had to be the best policy here, right?
Rafael’s face doesn’t change. Sonny’s heart is somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach. “Rafi,” he pleads.
“Don’t,” Rafael bites out.
Sonny tries again. In every language he knows. “Raf. Amore. Mi amor. Por favor. Please. Per favore.” And he says the words in English, the words they’ve been dancing around, in Italian and in Spanish. “I love you.”
He knows he’s getting through to Rafael, knows by the flash in his eyes Rafael’s affected, knows that Rafael is hurt but….
His train of thought is derailed as he’s kissed quickly. “I love you too, you stupid idiot,” Rafael says. “Now. I believe you have some making up to do.”
Sonny’s face breaks into a grin. He’s totally forgotten about the confession – he probably shouldn’t be involved anyway – and he peeks around the conference door.
“Oh for…” Rafael snaps. He throws it open and pushes Sonny out. “I’m not waiting any longer than I have to for sex. Go already.”
Sonny laughs and heads towards his desk for his coat. “Lieu, we’re taking off,” he calls, not waiting for her response. They can deal with the fallout in the morning.