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I. Last Will and Testament
A knock sounded on Barba’s office door and without looking up from the paperwork he was hunched over, he called, “Come in.”
Carisi poked his head in. “Hey Counselor,” he said, sounding almost as tired as Barba felt. “I'm surprised you're still here. Figured you'd be at home with an Old Fashioned by now.”
Barba glanced up at him. “Scotch is more my drink,” he said.
“Huh. I had you pegged as a bourbon man.” Carisi stepped all the way into Barba’s office and gave him a slightly nervous smile. “But at least I was on the right track with whiskey.”
Barba leaned back in his chair and gave Carisi an appraising look. “Fascinating though my alcohol preferences may be, I assume you're not actually here to discuss that, so what can I do for you, Detective?
Carisi shrugged. “I just came from Bella’s. I think she and Tommy are gonna be ok, and I wanted to thank you again for all you did for them.”
Barba’s expression softened slightly. “I just wish I could've done more,” he said with a sigh. “A stint on the registry and five years’ probation doesn’t seem costly enough to fit the crime.”
“It’s more than a lesser prosecutor woulda gotten,” Carisi pointed out.
“Unquestionably,” Barba said, with a touch of his usual arrogance, but he also managed a smile. “But either way, there’s no need to thank me. I’m just glad things seem back on track for your sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law.” He paused. “And your future niece or nephew.”
Carisi brightened at that. “Did Tommy tell you that they’re having a baby?” he asked eagerly, and was so clearly about to burst from excitement that Barba rolled his eyes at his exuberance. “I mean, I’d prefer if they were married, cuz, y’know, we’re Catholic, but—”
“You, Catholic?” Barba said dryly. “I never in a million years would’ve guessed.”
Carisi rolled his eyes, his smile not fading. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it’s as obvious as my accent. But that’s not the point. The point is, I’m gonna be an uncle!”
It was Barba’s turn to roll his eyes as he glanced up at the clock. “Yes, congratulations, Detective. I’m sure your excitement is unparalleled, even by the child’s own parents. But if all you came here for was to thank me, I appreciate the gesture, but I have a mountain of paperwork with my name on it and a personal goal of getting home before 3 a.m. tonight, so...”
He trailed off expectantly. “Oh, right,” Carisi said, his excitement dimming somewhat, and he shifted uncomfortably. For the first time, Barba noticed the manila envelope in Carisi’s hands, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “Actually, Counselor, I was, uh, hoping you’d look over something for me.” He set the envelope almost tentatively on Barba’s desk, and Barba glanced from it to Carisi, waiting for an explanation, and for some reason, Carisi blushed. “It’s just — you remember the Raina Punjabi kidnapping?”
Barba blinked, trying to follow Carisi’s sudden leap from his unborn niece or nephew to a closed kidnapping and rape case from a few weeks back. “Vaguely. It never went to trial since the perps took a deal so I didn’t concern myself with most of the details. Why?”
He didn’t add ‘and what does that have to do with me?’, figuring it was better left unspoken. Carisi rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, one of the perps, the one Fin shot, he got the jump on me and held me at gunpoint until Rollins and Fin got there.” He said this almost casually, as if he wasn’t just admitting to having almost been killed by a suspect, but Barba’s mouth went dry at the thought, even as Carisi barrelled onward. “And, you know, it wasn’t a big deal at the time or whatever, cuz, uh, I mean, it’s the job. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had a gun pulled on me and I know it won’t be the last but…” He trailed off and shrugged. “But now Bella’s having a baby, and, uh, I guess it’s made me think about the future, you know?”
“I don’t, actually,” Barba said, when the silence after what Carisi said stretched into uncomfortable. “But then again, I don’t have any siblings, so perhaps that’s why.” His brow furrowed as he looked up at Carisi. “But what does that have to do with whatever’s in that envelope?”
Carisi hesitated. “I know it’s not your kind of law,” he hedged, “but you’ve undoubtedly got a better eye for it than I do so I was hoping you wouldn’t mind going over this.”
Barba’s frown deepened but he nonetheless grabbed the manila envelope and opened it, freezing when he saw the typed words at the top of the first page: The Last Will and Testament of Dominick Carisi, Jr.
“Carisi,” he started, but he didn’t actually know what he intended to say. He couldn’t very well tell a police officer that he didn’t need a will; it’d be terrible legal advice. He took a deep breath and settled for telling him, “You’re right, this really isn’t my kind of law. I’m sure there are others more suited, maybe one of your professors at Fordham…”
Carisi half-smiled at him. “Are you trying to tell me that there’s something that you’re not actually good at, Counselor?”
Barba glared at him. He knew what Carisi was trying to do, saw it for the manipulation that it was, and he especially knew that he shouldn’t fall for it, but Rafael Barba would be damned if he admitted that he wasn’t good at something. “Fine,” he huffed, pulling the document fully out of the envelope and skimming through it.
Luckily, it was fairly straightforward, which made sense, considering that Carisi was unlikely to have a large personal estate and complicated assets to divide. The document directed that all of Carisi’s personal effects should go to his mother, and his police pension and life insurance should be paid out into a trust fund until Bella and Tommy’s baby turned 18, at which point it would be used for college expenses. Barba found himself unexpectedly touched by that and had to swallow down the emotion that threatened to choke his voice. “This looks in order,” he managed finally, glancing up at Carisi. “But what if one of your other sisters has a child?”
Carisi waved a dismissive hand. “That’s what they make codicils for, right?” he said with an easy smile.
“Right,” Barba said with a small smile of his own. “I suppose I should just be impressed that you even know what a codicil is.”
Carisi rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Fordham may not be Harvard, but they do still teach the basics. Anyway, I need two witnesses, right?”
“Under New York State law, yes, two witnesses would suffice, but I’d recommend three, especially if you’re intending on two of your witnesses being family members.” Barba raised an eyebrow at Carisi. “Unless you want to try to convince me that the Carisi family is immune to inter-family squabbles.”
“We’re an Italian family from Staten Island,” Carisi said, equally dry. “Squabbling is what we do.” He gave Barba what he clearly thought was a winning smile. “Wanna be one of my witnesses, Counselor?”
Barba raised both eyebrows at that. “And attest that you’re of sound mind? I don’t know if I’m willing to perjure myself on your behalf, Detective.”
Carisi just laughed. “C’mon, I can’t possibly be the craziest detective you’ve met. I mean, you work with Rollins and Amaro on a regular basis.”
“Fair point,” Barba said, grabbing his pen and flipping to the last page of the will where he signed his name with a flourish. “Is there any other aspect of my legal expertise you want to take advantage of?”
“Nah, I think this’ll suffice.” Carisi gratefully took his will back from Barba and returned it to the manila envelope. “Thanks, Counselor. I’ll let you get back to your paperwork.”
Barba made a face at the thought and again looked up at the clock. “On second thought, the paperwork will keep until tomorrow. Have you had dinner yet?”
Carisi looked surprised the question. “Not yet, no.” He hesitated. “Do you, uh, do you wanna go get dinner? Uh, together?”
Barba rolled his eyes as he stood, grabbing his jacket from where it was hanging on the back of his chair. “No, I figured we could go to the same restaurant and eat at separate tables. Yes, together, Carisi, if you can tolerate having a meal with me.”
“I can,” Carisi said quickly, a little too quickly. “Definitely. I mean, more than tolerate it, even.”
“Good,” Barba said briskly. “Because you’re buying. It’s the least you can do in exchange for me witnessing your will.”
Carisi considered that for a moment. “Fine,” he relented. “But then we’re going somewhere cheap.”
“As if I would expect you to eat anywhere else,” Barba said with a smirk as he walked with Carisi out of his office, their banter continuing all the way down the hallway.
II. Advance Healthcare Directive
Carisi hesitated for a moment before knocking on the apartment door as best as he could with one hand holding a takeout bag and the other a six-pack of beer. “Barba, it’s me,” he called, when there was no reaction from within the apartment. “Lemme in, my arms are getting tired out here.”
After a long moment, Carisi heard the deadbolt unlock and the door opened a crack as Barba undoubtedly checked that it was in fact Carisi outside his door. Then Carisi heard the chain slide open and Barba opened the door to let him inside. “Detective,” he said, his voice strained. “You brought me takeout? That’s the third time this week.”
“Yeah, well, I figured your security detail could use a break,” Carisi said, crossing to Barba’s kitchen table and setting the bag and the beer down. “I told them to take an hour and get some dinner and that I’d keep an eye on you.”
Barba’s eyes darted to Carisi’s gun holstered on his hip and away again. “Great, so my life is in your hands. Am I meant to find that reassuring?”
Carisi ignored him. Barba had spent far too much time over the past year and a half after that first dinner together making all variety of snide comments, whether at subsequent dinners or during late nights working together or over quick cups of coffee grabbed during court recesses, and Carisi had gotten very good at telling when Barba meant something sincerely or not. Of course, since Barba very rarely did, it was hard for Carisi know be entirely sure where they stood in their friendship — if you could even call it that.
The only thing sincere about Barba at the moment was the tension that pulled at his shoulders and furrowed his brow, and the wide, slightly-panicked look in his eyes that hadn’t quite faded after the unexpected knock at his door.
“I shoulda called,” Carisi offered apologetically, pulling containers out of the bag and setting them on the table. “Warned you that I was coming. Given you a chance to gird your loins.”
The phrase had its desired effect, Barba’s entire body relaxing as he snorted a laugh. “Gird my loins?” he repeated incredulously.
Carisi grinned at him. “Shut up, I just rewatched The Devil Wears Prada,” he said, heading into the kitchen to grab plates and forks from Barba’s cabinets, his ease in Barba’s kitchen revealing just how frequently he’d been to Barba’s apartment, especially recently.
Especially after Barba had told them about the threats.
“Rewatched The Devil Wears Prada?” Barba asked, still incredulous. “As in, you’ve seen it more than once?”
“You know me, I love Meryl Streep,” Carisi said easily.
Barba just rolled his eyes and huffed a sigh. “Of course you do.” He watched as Carisi dished out their food before remarking flatly, “I’m going crazy in here, you realize.”
Carisi glanced up at him, his own brow furrowed. “We’re getting close to finding them,” he said, suddenly serious. “I know it sucks, but it’ll only be a little while longer.”
“That’s easy for you to say, since you’re not the one with a protective detail that trails you everywhere you go,” Barba huffed, accepting the plate of food from Carisi.
“It could be worse,” Carisi pointed out levelly.
Barba glared at him. “How?” he asked.
“You could be dead.”
Carisi said the words calmly, flatly, but Barba still flinched, his expression softening as he examined Carisi carefully. “How’s everyone on the squad doing?” he asked quietly.
Carisi shrugged and sat down at the table. “As well as we can,” he said around a mouthful of pad thai.
“How’s Chief Dodds doing?”
Carisi swallowed and shrugged again. “As well as he can be, I guess. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to lose your son…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Anyway. We’re all hanging in there, that’s the important thing.” He glanced up at Barba. “And what about you? Are you planning on actually eating at some point?”
Barba made a face but sat down at the table. “I haven’t had much of an appetite,” he admitted. “Death threats will do that to a person.”
“And yet if I recall correctly, you’ve been getting death threats for months now, and your appetite wasn’t affected before.”
Carisi’s voice was even but there was an undercurrent of the frustration he was desperately trying to keep bottled up, the frustration over the fact that Barba hadn’t told him, that they had spent so much time together and yet he had never even thought to casually mention it.
Still, Barba stabbed at his Som Tam with more force than was entirely necessary and silence spread between them as they both ate. Finally, Barba set his fork down, though he hadn’t yet eaten half of his food. “I’m not going to apologize for not telling you sooner.”
Carisi just raised an eyebrow at him. “I never asked you to.” He set his fork down as well and sighed. “Just — if it hadn’t have been for Heredio, would you have told me at all?”
Barba chose not to answer that, instead reaching into his briefcase and pulling a file folder out. “Since I’ve had a lot of free time on my hands recently and nothing to think about besides the high probability of my imminent death, I drew up an advance healthcare directive, just in case, and I need you to witness it.”
Carisi’s brow furrowed and he reached out to grab the file folder from Barba before leaning back in his chair as he read through it. As he read, his brow furrowed even further until he was downright frowning at the document, and it took him a long moment before he looked back up at Barba. “No extraordinary measures?” he asked, his voice quiet.
“No.” Barba’s voice was quiet and almost cold, and Carisi flinched. “If BX9 guns me down outside of the courthouse or the CO union sends someone to shank me in 1 Hogan Place, I don’t want to be hooked up to a hundred machines while my mother waits by my bedside to see if I ever wake up.” He shook his head. “She’s been through enough in her lifetime, she doesn’t need that.”
“She doesn’t—” Carisi broke off, his expression dark. “You think your mother would be the only person sitting by your bedside to see if you woke up, if heaven forbid the worst were to happen to you?”
Barba rolled his eyes. “Don’t make this about you,” he said dismissively.
“About me?” Carisi repeated incredulously. “This isn’t about me! This is about you! You, the man who takes no shit from anyone, the man who suddenly doesn’t even want to bother fighting for his own life, the man who sounds like a coward—”
“Then maybe I am a coward,” Barba countered, his eyes flashing. “Maybe this entire situation has turned me into a coward!”
Carisi stared at him, seeming to deflate slightly. “You said you weren’t afraid,” he said quietly, and when Barba just frowned at him, he elaborated, “In the bar, for Dodds — you said you weren’t afraid.”
Barba huffed a sigh. “And in there I wasn’t,” he said quietly. “Out here — out here, I’m terrified.”
The admission was quiet and pained, and something twisted in Carisi’s expression. “So afraid that you’d rather just give up than fight?”
“I don’t want to just give up,” Barba snapped. “I want to not be in this situation in the first place! I want to go back in time and not be the prosecutor stupid enough to take the Terrence Reynolds case! I want to have not pissed off every lieutenant in BX9! I want to go back and not get on the wrong side of the Correction Officers union!”
Carisi went very still. “Is that true?” he asked softly.
Barba sagged slightly. “No,” he admitted, after a long moment. “No, I wouldn’t do anything differently with Terrence Reynolds. Or BX9. Or Gary Munson. Or even Felipe Heredio.”
“Good,” Carisi said. “Because the Rafael Barba I know doesn’t back away from a fight. And this—” He pointed a finger at the directive lying open on the table. “—this is you running away from a fight that I hope to God you never have to have.” Barba frowned but he didn’t deny it, and after a long moment, Carisi’s voice softened as he told him, “If you can tell me that you honestly don’t want to fight with everything you have, I will sign this as your witness. Hell, I’ll even be your health care proxy when or if the time comes. But just know that I will think less of you for it.”
“And that’s supposed to convince me to change my mind?” Barba asked, with just a hint of his normal snark before he sighed and ran a tired hand across his face. “Why do you care?”
Carisi frowned. “What do you mean?”
Barba rolled his eyes before repeating, “I mean, why do you care? Why are you here? Why are you bringing me food and relieving my security detail and sitting in my kitchen and making me promise that if I get stabbed by a violent gang member that I’ll fight to survive?”
“Seriously?” Carisi asked, like the answer should be obvious. “I — you’re my friend. Or at least, I thought after how long we’ve been working together, I could call you a friend, but—”
“Liv’s my friend, and yet she doesn’t take the time to bring me food,” Barba pointed out evenly. “Det. Tutuola and I are at least friendly, and yet he’s not standing guard at my door. Rita Calhoun and I went to Harvard together and have been friends for decades and yet the most she’s done is text me to tell me that if someone kills me before she gets a chance to, she’ll be very disappointed.”
Carisi just stared at him. “So is it somehow my fault that all the rest of your friends are shit?”
Barba smirked at him. “I’m going to tell Liv you said that.”
Carisi rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean,” he said impatiently. “I mean, what do you want me to say to that?”
“I want you to tell me why you care if I ask to be resuscitated or not,” Barba said carefully. “Why you care if I back away from a fight or not.”
“Because if you don’t fight—” Carisi started before breaking off, and when Barba just looked at him expectantly, Carisi blushed and muttered, “Because if you don’t fight then you’re not the man that I thought you were.”
Barba’s expression didn’t change. “And why does it matter if I’m the man you thought I was?”
Carisi met his gaze evenly, even as his blush deepened. “Because the man I thought you were is someone I could be in love with.”
He said it defiantly, almost angrily, but despite the harshness of his tone, Barba relaxed. “Oh,” he said easily, a slight smile on his face, too soft to be a smirk. “I see.” He stood, something almost cat-like in the motion and nodded towards the door. “You should call my protective detail. Tell them to take the night off.”
“Why?” Carisi asked, confused.
In lieu of answering, Barba crossed to Carisi and kissed him, cupping his cheek with a large hand while the other fell to Carisi’s waist to tug him in closer. Carisi kissed him back, reveling at this natural culmination of one-and-a-half years of flirting and quasi-dating and the far more recent fear and loss that they had both felt
After a long moment, Carisi pulled away and nodded at the file folder. “And the directive?” he asked hoarsely.
“Forget the directive,” Barba said dismissively. “I think I need to redraft it.” Then he leaned forward to kiss the grin off of Carisi’s face.
III. Lease Agreement
Barba typed a rapid email on his phone, smiling slightly as he did and leaning against the wall outside of Olivia’s office. “Waiting for me?” Olivia asked, looking harried as she swept past him.
Blinking up at her, Barba tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Actually, I wasn’t—” he started, but Olivia interrupted him as she sorted through files on her desk.
“Sorry for not looping you in sooner. I know you were waiting on the witness statement in the Kepner case, but we caught a new case this morning,” Olivia said with a sigh. “A child rape in Central Park, no less. Fin and Carisi are still on the scene talking to potential witnesses and I just left Rollins at the hospital with the victim.” She glanced up at Barba. “But as a fair warning, this case is going to be a nightmare and the press is going to be all over it.”
Barba sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I knew I should have gone for the extra shot of espresso in my coffee this morning,” he said, crossing into Olivia’s office and sitting down across from her. “But go ahead and fill me in on the case while I wait for what little caffeine I did manage to drink this morning to kick in.”
Over a half hour later, Barba and Olivia finally emerged from her office, Barba’s smile long since gone and replaced by a deep frown that spoke mostly to what utter headache this case was going to end up being. Just as they walked out of Olivia’s office, Fin and Carisi came back into the precinct, both looking equal parts discouraged and exhausted. “Sergeant, Detective,” Barba said distractedly, on his phone again. “Liv, I’ll let you know when I get those warrants.”
Olivia nodded and looked expectantly at Fin and Carisi. “So what did you guys find?” she asked, heading back into her office.
Fin and Carisi both followed her, though Carisi paused when Barba called after him, “Detective, a word, please.” Carisi paused, looking over at him expectantly, and Barba managed a small smile despite the tension headache building in his temples. “Do I have to shout at you across the bullpen, or are you going to come over here?”
Carisi rolled his eyes but nonetheless crossed over to Barba, standing far too closely for their conversation to be entirely professional. “Can I help you, Counselor?” he asked, though he was smiling as well.
“You left early this morning,” Barba said, his voice low. “I didn’t get a chance to remind you that I need that paperwork back from you.”
Carisi stared at him blankly for a moment before smacking himself in the forehead. “Of course, I completely forgot.” He turned and practically jogged over to his desk, sorting through the pile of case files before finding the one he was looking for and returning to Barba with it in hand. “Here. My notes on the Kepner case.”
Though Barba accepted the case file from Carisi, he nonetheless gave him a patient albeit slightly condescending look. “You’re lucky you’re so nice to look at,” he sighed. “This is not the paperwork to which I was referring.”
Again, Carisi just stared blankly at him and Barba sighed again before reminding him, “The paperwork that I need your signature on.” No hint of recognition from Carisi. “The forms that I need to turn in by close of business today.” Still nothing. “The lease agreement for our new apartment.”
Finally, Carisi brightened with realization and Barba rolled his eyes so hard it looked physically painful. “Again, you’re lucky that you’re pretty.”
“Hey, it’s been a long day, and it’s not even 10 o’clock yet,” Carisi complained, but he was grinning. “I promise I’ll sign it and get it over to your office as soon as I can, ok?”
“You better,” Barba said. “This apartment has hardwood floors and a walk-in closet, Carisi. If we lose it because you forget to sign the lease…”
He trailed off threateningly and it was Carisi’s turn to roll his eyes. “What, you’ll kill me?” he joked.
Barba smirked. “No. But I’ll move there without you.”
“Don’t smirk at me like that,” Carisi said, pouting slightly. “You know it just makes me want to kiss you.”
Barba rolled his eyes again. “Not in the precinct,” he reminded Carisi, taking a step away from him, though his smile was teasing. “Get those papers over to me as soon as possible or there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Promise?” Carisi asked, his grin turning dirty.
“I’m not even going to answer that,” Barba said with yet another eye roll as he turned to head out of the precinct. “Just get it done, Detective.”
With that, he left, passing Rollins, who was on her way in. Rollins looked from Barba to Carisi and smirked at him. “Do I even want to know what that was about?”
Even though all of Carisi’s coworkers assumedly knew about him and Barba, mostly without either Carisi or Barba having to say a word, even though they weren’t trying to keep it a secret, Carisi still tried to avoid talking about it at work. Mainly because avoiding doing so minimized the amount of time Rollins could spend teasing him relentlessly. “Nah, he just needs some paperwork for a case,” he said dismissively, heading back to his desk.
“Hmm,” Rollins said, a small smile on her face. “Must be a hell of a case.” When Carisi just rolled his eyes, her expression softened somewhat. “You two seem really happy, for what it’s worth.”
“We are,” Carisi said, finally finding the copy of the lease agreement that Barba had given him some two weeks ago buried in a stack of old case notes he was going to have to spend an evening sooner rather than later finishing up. “So how’s the vic doing?”
Rollins sighed as she slumped down at her desk. “How do you think?” she asked, and Carisi just winced in understanding. “But hopefully we’ll get lucky with the rape kit. Any of your witnesses get anything on the bastard?”
Carisi shook his head and was about to elaborate when Fin and Olivia emerged from her office. “Carisi, when you’re done with whatever you’re doing, can you take these witness statements over to Barba? He needs them for a subpoena on a witness’s cellphone video.”
Under normal circumstances, Carisi would've leapt at the opportunity to take anything to Barba’s office just as an excuse to see him, but now, having just seen him, Carisi knew that Barba would read too far into this and assume that Carisi was just that desperate. Which he was, but he didn't really want Barba to know that. “Can't we just fax ‘em over?” he asked hopefully.
Olivia looked surprised, but before she could say anything, Rollins interrupted with a saccharine sweet smile. “But don't you have some paperwork for a case that you need to give him anyway?”
Carisi glared daggers at her, but that settled things for Olivia, who set the file down on Carisi’s desk. “Bring Barba a cup of coffee,” Olivia advised him. “He apparently didn't get an extra shot in his latte this morning.”
“That explains a lot,” Carisi said with a smile. “Will do, Lieu.”
With that, Olivia returned to her office and Carisi hurried to scrawl his sloppy signature and initials on all of the lines Barba had thoughtfully marked with Post-It flags in the lease. When he was done, he stood, grabbed his jacket and headed towards the elevator.
The first time he doubled back, it was to grab the file Olivia had left on his desk which was the ostensible reason he was going to Barba’s office in the first place.
The second time he doubled back, it was to knock on Olivia’s office door. “Hey, Lieu, before I forget, I had a quick question for you.”
Olivia glanced up at him. “What is it, Carisi?”
“How do I go about changing my address for my personnel file?”
If anything, Olivia looked even more surprised than before, though she at least managed to hide it faster this time. “Are you moving?” she asked, a little unnecessarily.
Carisi nodded. “Yeah, and I know the department likes to keep things up to date, so I figured I should figure out how to go about doing that before I moved.”
“Probably not a terrible idea,” Olivia said with a slow nod. “But not something you need to worry about in the middle of this case. Once we get some downtime, I'll get you the appropriate form, ok?”
Carisi nodded again and flashed her a grin. “Sure thing, Lieu. Thanks.”
He started to turn when Olivia stopped him. “Interesting that you're moving, too.” Carisi half-turned to give her an inquisitive look and she smiled at him. “Barba told me this morning that he's going to be moving shortly as well.” Carisi felt himself blush and Olivia’s smile widened. “Like I said, interesting.”
“Well, you know,” Carisi started, shifting awkwardly on his feet, but Olivia saved him from having to give any kind of explanation.
“Truthfully, I expected to see a change of address form from you with Barba’s address on it for months now.”
Carisi laughed and shook his head. “Nah,” he said dismissively. “My suits won’t fit in his closet.”
Olivia laughed, a sudden, bright sound given the pervading gloom of the case that was hanging over the precinct. “I’m surprised he let your suits in his apartment in the first place.” Carisi rolled his eyes but he was smiling, and Olivia’s smile softened. “Well, I’m happy for you, Carisi, and for Barba.” She paused before adding, “And I wish you the best of luck moving in together.”
“Thanks, Lieu,” Carisi said, turning once again to leave. This time, even though he was pretty sure he heard her mutter jokingly under her breath, “You’re going to need it”, he didn’t let the joke deter him any longer as he finally left for Barba’s office, witness statements and lease agreement in hand.
IV. Prenuptial Agreement
“Rafael Barba, as I live and breathe,” Rita Calhoun said, a smirk already on her face as she leaned back in her desk chair and smiled up at Barba, who scowled. “I’m surprised you didn’t catch fire just by setting foot in my office.” She gestured almost lazily for Barba to take a seat, her smirk widening when Barba didn’t have a ready comeback for her. “If you’re here to discuss a deal on the Wilkins case, I could’ve saved you the trip, though I always appreciate you putting in the effort to see me in person.”
Barba rolled his eyes. “I’m not here for a deal,” he snapped. “I’m not here in my capacity as an ADA at all.”
Rita’s smirk vanished, and the look she gave him was equal parts cautious and calculating. “Then in what capacity are you here?”
“As a friend.”
Rita blinked, clearly surprised, and it was Barba’s turn to smirk, the power balance now at least temporarily flipped in his favor. “I have something that I need another set of legal eyes on, and quite frankly, I don’t trust most of the other lawyers that I know, so I was hoping you’d do me the courtesy of giving this a once over.”
A strange look crossed Rita’s face, and for a moment, it looked like she was dying to say something. In the end, though, curiosity won out. “What do you want me to look at?”
From his briefcase, Barba produced a manila folder, which he passed across to Rita, who opened it, her eyes widening. “This is a prenup,” she said, surprised.
“It is,” Barba confirmed with a touch of his usual arrogance. “I asked Det. Carisi to marry me, and he readily agreed.”
Rita glanced up at him. “You mean Det. Carisi asked you to marry him, and you reluctantly agreed,” she corrected, smirk returning when Barba’s vanished, replaced by his previous scowl, clearly perturbed that she had seen through him. “Either way, congratulations.”
Barba managed to refrain from rolling his eyes, but only just. “Thanks,” he said shortly.
Rita flipped through the first few pages of the document and looked back up at Barba. “You do realize that I haven’t even looked at a prenup since I took contract law our 1L year, right?”
Shrugging, Barba sat back in his seat and gave her a look. “Neither have I. But I would hope between the two of us that we’d be able to figure something like this out.”
Rita rolled her eyes and returned to the document, skimming through it quickly, her forehead furrowing more and more as she continued to read. When she finished, she set it on her desk and looked up at Barba. “You realize that there isn’t a judge in this state that would rule this prenup enforceable.”
“Why not?” Barba asked with a scowl, reaching out to snatch the prenup off of her desk and flipping through it himself. “It’s fair, it’s clear, it outlines everything—”
“It’s incredibly skewed,” Rita said evenly. “The state of New York requires prenups to be fair and equitable. This prenup is the opposite of that.” Barba rolled his eyes and Rita leaned forward, keeping her tone neutral. “You realize that under this prenup, in the case of a divorce, you’re basically signing away the vast majority of your financial assets to Det. Carisi, correct?"
Something tightened in Barba’s expression. “Correct.”
Rita arched an eyebrow at him. “Rafael, you can’t put that in a prenup,” she said. “Not only is it unenforceable, it’s unnecessary. If you choose to give Sonny more than half of your estate if ever you were to divorce, that’s your prerogative. When you’re the one bringing significant assets into the marriage, a prenup is designed to protect you, not the other way around.”
“I’m not the one who needs to be protected,” Barba said sharply. “I know how New York law divides estates, and I want it codified that Sonny gets everything that he needs. I want to make sure that he’s taken care of, even if the worst were to happen.”
Rita sat back in her chair and fixed Barba with a careful look. “And what’s the worst that were to happen?” she asked. “You dying, whether from someone following through on those threats, including the ones I know damn well you don’t tell your fiancé about, or some other grisly way? Because in that case, a prenup won’t do anything that state law doesn’t. Everything you own would go to Sonny.” She paused. “Which means what you’re concerned about is what would happen in case of a divorce.”
Barba shrugged but didn’t deny it and Rita sighed and leaned forward, folding her hands on top of her desk. “Why are you even thinking about divorce before you even get married? Why are you assuming that your marriage is going to end before it even begins?”
Now Barba’s brow furrowed and he shook his head sharply. “I’m not,” he said defensively. “But I’m a damn good lawyer, Rita, as our win/loss record clearly shows, and I want to make sure that I have every possible eventuality covered.”
But Rita didn’t relent, merely raising an eyebrow at him. “And you think it’s a possible eventuality that Det. Carisi, who is more Catholic than the pope, will someday want to divorce you?”
“I didn’t say that,” Barba snapped, though his face colored at the thought, and he took a deep breath that he let out in a sigh, all of the fight seeming to leave him as he did. “I just don’t want him to stay in a marriage with me because he’s financially dependent on me,” he muttered. “I want to make sure he has an out in case he needs one.”
Rita’s expression softened slightly, and she shook her head slowly. “Trust me,” she said, her voice far more gentle than it normally was when she dealt with Barba, “Sonny doesn’t want an out. For reasons that pass all understanding, Sonny loves you.” She paused. “And I somehow can’t imagine he’d be particularly pleased to find out you’ve drafted a prenup just in case your marriage didn’t work out.”
Barba snorted softly and sighed again. “No, I doubt he would be,” he said, with a slightly wry smile. “In fact, that’s a lecture that I can do without.” He cocked an eyebrow at Rita. “But then again, attorney-client privilege covers stupidity, or else half of your clients wouldn’t even make it to arraignment.”
Rita smiled, something sharp in her grin. “And yet, you came to me not as a client, but as a friend, and last I checked, attorney-friend privilege is not so much a thing.”
Barba’s eyes narrowed. “Are you blackmailing me into paying your absurdly high legal fees in exchange for your silence?” he asked.
Rita rolled her eyes. “Always the drama queen,” she sighed. “No, Rafael, I’ll stay quiet because I’m a nice person and besides, I’m expecting to be invited to your wedding. But what you do owe me is a drink, in exchange for my silence and for putting up with your stupidity.”
Though Barba rolled his eyes, he nonetheless smiled slightly. “Deal,” he said, standing, though he paused and glanced back at the prenup on Rita’s desk. “What are you going to do with that?”
“Shred it and pretend like I never saw it,” Rita said primly.
Barba laughed and shook his head. “Sometimes I think you’re a better friend than I deserve.”
Rita just arched an eyebrow at him. “Funny,” she said. “I have that same exact thought whenever I have to deal with you for more than five minutes. I am a better friend than you deserve.”
Barba rolled his eyes again. “Drinks at Forlini’s tonight?” he asked.
“If you’re buying, then I will be there,” Rita informed him, and Barba nodded before leaving. Rita picking the prenup up and flipped through it again, unable to stop herself from chuckling lightly. Only Barba would think a prenup was a necessary precaution.
With a sigh, she tossed the prenup onto the pile of documents she needed her secretary to shred before turning back to her computer to return to work.
V. Marriage Certificate
Barba’s eyes were wide, his hair was mussed, and somehow, his pocket square had gone missing, and he all but fled to the far corner of the room. “Are you alright?” Olivia asked, concerned.
Barba shook his head. “I barely managed to escape them,” he said hoarsely.
“Who?” Olivia asked with a raised eyebrow.
“The Carisi relatives,” Barba said with a shudder. “There are just...so many of them.”
Olivia laughed, the sound echoing throughout the church sanctuary, which was mostly cleared of wedding guests, save for the tail end of the receiving line, which appeared to be comprised of even more of Carisi’s relatives. “To be fair, you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to marry Carisi,” she said with a grin. “He comes with a large family, for better or for worse.”
“For better or for worse doesn’t cover extremely grabby great-aunts,” Barba muttered before nodding towards Judge Barth, who was looking at him expectantly. “Besides, Elena needs us to sign the marriage certificate so she can be done for the day, and I have no idea how to extricate Carisi from his throng of relatives.”
Olivia looked thoughtful. “I might have an idea,” she said, pulling out her cellphone.
Not even two minutes later, Fin was perp-walking Carisi down the aisle of the church, twisting Carisi’s arms behind his back with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary. “One wayward groom for delivery,” Fin said cheerfully, pausing next to Barba and Olivia. “Where do you want him, Counselor?”
“Normally, manhandling my husband is my job,” Barba said mildly, and Carisi’s scowl at being forced down the aisle was instantly replaced with a blinding smile at being referred to by Barba as his ‘husband’. “Leave him there, Sergeant, I think he can handle the last few feet on his own.”
Fin let go of Carisi, who rubbed his wrists in a rather dramatic fashion before wrapping an arm around Barba’s waist and kissing his cheek. “You ready for this, hubby?”
Barba rolled his eyes. “You have until the end of the reception to get calling me ‘hubby’, ‘husband’ and every other variation out of your system,” he said dryly as they walked over to where Judge Barth was waiting. “Your Honor, thank you again for agreeing to officiate.”
“It seemed like the least I could do, since I won the inter-office pool on when you two would finally stop dancing around each other,” she said with an easy smile.
“I don’t know whether to be offended, or…” Barba muttered.
Carisi just grinned and gave him a swift kiss. “Hush,” he admonished, nodding towards their marriage certificate. “You just need our signatures, right?”
“That’s right,” Elena said. “Your signatures, and then once I file this, you will be officially married in the state of New York. Congratulations.”
For some reason, those words sent a flicker of trepidation through Barba, and he glanced at Carisi as he picked up the pen. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” he asked in a low voice. “It is legally binding, you know.”
Carisi just rolled his eyes, gave Barba a kiss and plucked the pen from his hand. “I already said ‘I do’.” he pointed out evenly as he scrawled his signature on the certificate. “It’s a little bit late to take it back now.”
Barba rolled his eyes as he took the pen back from Carisi, and as he signed his own signature, Carisi kissed his cheek and told him, his voice low, “Besides, I’d never want to take it back anyway.”
“Good,” Barba said, setting the pen down and capturing Carisi’s lips with his own. “Neither do I.”