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Rafael has been sleeping on her couch for five nights now. The first two nights, Noah had insisted on sleeping on the floor next to it, like that was the only way he could make sure that Uncle Rafa didn’t disappear again. Olivia can’t really blame him, although she’s only said about 50 words to him herself since he’d shown up a little after eight on Saturday night, suitcase at his side and not quite able to meet her eyes.
Nineteen texts, eleven emails, and five phone calls, two of which only half-counted because he’d technically been calling to talk to Noah. That was all the communication she’d had with him in the past fifteen months, and then he’d turned up at her door with no warning, and now when she comes home in the evenings he is just there, making dinner and reading with her son.
For his part, Rafael has been mostly quiet and overly polite. He leaves almost as soon as she gets up in the morning, leaving a cup of coffee waiting for her on the kitchen counter and his bedding folded neatly on top of his suitcase, all of it tucked away in a corner of the living room, and he’s always still up when she goes to bed. She doesn’t know where he goes during the day or how much he’s actually sleeping, because she hasn’t asked and he hasn’t told her. The most they talk is at dinner, and that’s only because they’re sitting at the same table and Noah is asking both of them questions, the two of them exchanging quick glances as they answer.
Olivia knows that he’s waiting for her to talk to him, to start the conversation, but every time she tries, all her happiness and sadness and anger wells up in her throat and steals every single word she has. Honestly she appreciates his patience, she really does, but whenever he looks at her and clearly has a thousand words on the tip of his tongue, she wishes he would stop being so damn patient and say something, because then she could just respond, could lean into whichever emotion untangles itself first.
Until then, or until she figures it out for herself, there’s just… Rafael Barba, sleeping on her couch.
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“I can go, if you want me to,” Rafael says, and Olivia looks up from her papers at where he’s sitting across the counter from her. “I know you offered because Noah wanted me to stay, and I appreciate it, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“No one is asking you to leave, Rafa.” She goes back to her papers, but she catches his wince.
“I didn’t say you were, Liv. I just… if you want me to, I thought it might be easier if I left while he wasn’t here.” Noah is at a movie with Lucy, and they should be back soon, so she wonders exactly how ready Rafael is to leave if he’s waited until now to bring it up.
“Easier for who, exactly?”
“I don’t mean that, I just…” He sighs, standing up and coming around to her side of the counter. “You know, I didn’t even realize that Noah would still be up when I came over that night.”
“Well, he’s a year older now. His bedtime is later.” The anger is blooming bright and clear in her chest, even as he winces again, and she leans into it, the anger itself and the relief of being able to concentrate on one feeling instead of the intricate knot of them that has taken up residence in her gut for the past week.
“Liv, we should probably talk at some point.”
“You want to talk now? That’s a refreshing change of pace.”
“We don’t have to, I just thought that you might wan-”
“I’ve wanted to talk for months. Instead I’ve had to make due with one word answers and begging Rita for updates.” That’s not exactly true-- for one thing, Rita had been more than happy to tell her whatever she knew whenever Olivia had asked--, but she’s not interested in being precise at the moment.
“I know. I can’t- I can’t go back and fix any of that, but I’m here now and we can-”
“Oh, you’re finally ready to make the effort?” she says, and his reaction this time isn’t so much a wince as a tightening at his jaw, like when he’s annoyed and trying not to show it, and Olivia realizes with a start that that’s what she’s been pushing for. He’s genuinely apologetic, and for all she’s leaning into her anger, everything else is welling up again at the soft look in his eyes, but if she can goad him into an argument, however stupid it may be, they can bicker like old times instead of whatever Rafael is trying to lead them towards.
“We can’t just continue like we have been, like nothing has-”
“You think this is us acting like nothing has happened? Like nothing’s changed?”
“That’s not what I meant, and if you’d actually let me finish a sentence-”
“I’ve been waiting for you to finish a sentence for months, Barba,” she says, pushing herself to her feet and stepping deliberately into his space, in a way she only rarely used to let herself before when there was so much on the line, their work and their friendship and everything else left unspoken. But now she doesn’t even know where he’s working and they’re barely speaking about anything as it is, so she lets her gaze drop deliberately to his mouth for a few seconds before she meets his eyes again.
“Liv?” he says, all the edge gone from his voice, and she knows this is a terrible way to end the half-argument that she’d started in the first place, but her fingers are practically twitching with the urge to undo the buttons of his vest so she can slide her hands underneath and grab onto his suspenders.
“Rafa,” she responds, shuffling closer still but not touching him yet, and for a few seconds she thinks that surely one of them is going to point out that this is probably a terrible idea considering the circumstances.
Then she’s kissing Rafael, and all she can think about is getting as close to him as possible.
“Sorry,” she says at his grunt of pain when his back meets the wall, but he shakes his head as much as he can without actually breaking their kiss.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he murmurs against her mouth, one hand sliding around to the small of her back.
Olivia slides one hand into his hair while the other fumbles with his vest, and she’s just gotten the last button undone when some distant part of her brain registers the sound of the lock on the front door turning.
The rest of her brain catches on in time for her to manage two steps back from Rafael before the door opens and Noah makes a beeline for her.
“Mom! We got a tub of popcorn this big!” he says, making a ring with his arms.
“Wow! Did you like the movie?”
“Yeah, it was good. We were maybe gonna get ice cream but then Lucy said it was late and we could get some next time.”
“I can still take him, if you guys want,” Lucy says, eyes flicking towards where Rafael has moved to stand in the kitchen, vest open and the hair on one side of his head sticking out, and yeah, okay, Lucy definitely knows what they were doing thirty seconds ago.
“That’s alright. Thank you for taking him,” she says, fighting a blush, but at Noah’s disappointed expression, she adds, “How about I bring home some ice cream tomorrow and we have it for dessert?”
Noah tilts his head, considering. “Okay. Can Uncle Rafa read me a story?”
Olivia half expects him to bolt right then and there, but he manages a smile even while he’s trying to smooth his hair back into place.
“Sure, buddy. Let’s go pick one out,” he says, following Noah into his room, which gives her enough time to discuss next week’s schedule with Lucy while making as little eye contact as she feels she can reasonably get away with.
She’s thinking of pouring herself a drink when Rafael emerges from Noah’s room, half closing the door behind him, and something in her stomach drops at the look of almost startled caution on his face.
“He’s almost out, if you want to say good night.”
She wants to apologize, wants to yell at him, wants to have the talk he was trying for earlier. She wants another go at his vest, because he’s rebuttoned it at some point. But he’s skittish in a way she’s rarely seen him be in all the time she’s known him and with everything they’ve faced, so she just nods.
“Thanks.”
Noah is already half asleep, so she says good night and gives him a kiss on the forehead, but by the time she comes back out into the kitchen, Rafael is gone.
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She hadn’t seen Rafael at all yesterday, and this morning there had been a cup of coffee waiting for her on the counter but still no other signs of him. When she gets home a little after nine, she’s not sure what to expect, but it certainly isn’t a dozen roses sitting on the counter and Rafael himself emerging from the bathroom, still towel drying his hair and his thin t-shirt sticking to his skin in places. He freezes when he spots her, and they stand staring at each other for a few seconds.
“You got me flowers?” she asks, and he smiles. It’s small and doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but there’s something genuine in the lopsided quirk of his mouth.
“I might have been having a bit of a crisis about… It seemed like something I could do. If it’s too much, I’m-”
“No, no, you’re fine. They’re lovely. Thank you, Rafa.”
“Of course. Liv,” he starts, but she shakes her head. She can’t possibly talk about this with him when he’s standing there barefoot and with his hair sticking up all over. Not with his flowers sitting on the counter in the same place he’d left her coffee cup this morning.
For a moment, she thinks he’s going to push anyway, but then he looks away, lifting the towel to his hair again so it hides his face and once again she finds herself wishing he’d stop being so patient, especially because this time the fact that everything is more complicated than before is her fault. But Rafael doesn’t say anything, and she goes to check on Noah.
When she comes back out to find him sitting on the couch, she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
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The third shot was a mistake, especially on top of the two glasses of wine and not nearly enough sleep these past few weeks.
This case had sucked, that was really the only word for it, it had sucked from beginning to end, but because it had ultimately ended with a guilty verdict, the squad had wanted to go out for drinks instead of going their separate ways. She’d texted Rafael about the plan and asked if he was alright watching Noah for the evening, and he had replied that he’d be glad to. Neither of them had mentioned that not all that long ago, in the greater span of things, he’d have been with them, the two of them sitting at the bar together, close enough that their shoulders touched.
She has the first glass of wine because they’re drinking together, and the second once they decide to get food. Carisi and Rollins goad her into the first shot, and the second and third are mostly due to the fact that Rollins isn’t nearly as subtle in her questions about Rafael as she thinks she’s being after a few drinks of her own. The food helps take the edge off, as does the half hour she gives herself before hailing a cab, but she’s still feeling distinctly loose when she walks into her apartment and is greeted by the sight of Rafael sitting on the couch.
“Hey, Liv,” he says, and she can’t figure out the puzzled look he’s giving her until she realizes it’s probably because of the goofy grin on her own face.
She can’t help it, because her best friend was gone for a long time but now he’s here. Rafael Barba, sitting on her couch, and he’s been here for weeks now, and she’s standing in the middle of the living room, and he’s just there, and-
“Come here,” she says, and fights the urge to stomp her foot when he just tilts his head at her, “Come here.”
Rafael stands, looking half amused and half cautious, and as soon as he’s within reach she throws her arms around his neck. For a few seconds, he’s stunned frozen, and then he wraps his arms around her waist, relaxing into her embrace with a shudder. She tightens her own arms, leaning into him, warm and solid and here. He smells good, and more than that he smells familiar, and she drags her nose along the curve of skin at the collar of his t-shirt because she can. Rafael shudders again, and then again when she presses three kisses against his neck, lingering on the third.
“Liv,” he says, tilting his head away but not withdrawing from their hug. Her name is loaded with feeling, and his voice is very soft. “You don’t want to do that.”
“Shows what you know, Barba.” Her fingers brush through the hair at the nape of his neck, soft and fine. “I’ve wanted to do that for… a long time. Years.”
With her face still tucked in against his shoulder, she can see his throat bob.
“Liv, I used to be your best friend, and I-”
“You think you’re not my best friend anymore? You think you leave and I flip some switch? You’re stuck with me, no matter how pissed I am at you.”
He swallows again, and his arms tighten around her. “Liv, that’s part of why I know you don’t really want to do this right now.”
“Because I’m mad at you?”
“Because we haven’t talked yet.”
“Let’s talk then.”
“We can’t do that right now either. You’re drunk.”
“I’m tipsy.”
“Whatever you want to call it, you’re in no state to talk about everything tonight,” he says, finally pulling back to meet her eyes, “We should get you to bed.”
“If you’d said that last February instead of your stupid speech, a lot of things would be different right now.”
He winces. “I know. Come on.”
She doesn’t need help getting her pajamas on, because she’s not really that drunk. Drunk enough to kiss Rafael, sure, but she’s proven she’ll do that stone cold sober too, so that’s not really a valuable metric at this point. He brings her a glass of water once she’s already under the covers, and leaves a couple ibuprofen on her bedside table.
“That’ll help in the morning. If you need anything, I’m out on the couch,” he says, but she catches his wrist as he turns.
“Stay,” she says, more a breath then a word, but when his eyes widen in shock, she clarifies, “Just to sleep. You look exhausted, Rafa.”
“I… don’t think that’s a good idea.”
"Fine." Olivia huffs, rolling over onto her side with her back to him. “You never stay when I ask you to.” Okay, a little drunker than she’d thought, and she hears Rafael’s breath catch behind her.
“You never asked me to stay.”
“I didn’t think I had to.”
She’s sure that’s the end of it, that he’ll retreat to the couch and this will just be another thing on the list of things they need to talk about, so she closes her eyes and pulls the blankets up to her chin. She opens them when the bed shifts to find Rafael sitting on top of the covers next to her.
“I’ll stay until you fall asleep, at least.”
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Rafael settles next to her on the couch.
“We should talk.”
When she’d woken up this morning, he’d still been there in her bed, on top of the covers, curled up around himself like he was trying to take up as little room as possible, except for one arm, which he’d sprawled out in her direction. She’d spent fifteen minutes after she’d woken up just lying there, telling herself that she was waiting out her headache when really she was concentrating on the feeling of his fingertips against hers.
She doesn’t say anything, still wanting him to go first, still with too many different things battering around in her chest.
“I wasn’t planning on telling people I was back right away. I wanted to have more of a handle on things before I did that. But then I was in the car at the airport, and the driver asked where I wanted to go. Suddenly, I couldn’t possibly imagine not telling you I was here, couldn’t imagine being in the same city and not coming to see you and Noah. I didn’t know what to expect, and it certainly wasn’t all this,” he says, gesturing at the couch and his suitcase in the corner, “but I knew I needed to come. I knew I needed to see you. Even if… No matter what, I needed to see you.”
His shoulders are tense and his eyes are soft as he looks at her, and she knows how much it took for him to say that, understands all the things he needs her to understand. He’s waiting for her now, like he’s been waiting for her ever since that Saturday night when she opened her door to find him standing there. She opens her mouth with very little idea at all what she’s going to say.
“I never had what you had with Alex when you were younger. I never had a best friend. I had friends and partners, people I was close with, people who mattered. But I never had a best friend until I had you. And then I didn’t have you.”
When she glances over at him he looks like he’s been hit, like he can’t quite catch his breath. Olivia doesn’t know why, of all the things she wants to say to him, that’s the one that had come out first, because she knows he understands, understands her anger and her sadness and her hurt, but she can’t take it back and doesn’t want to. She waits for him to say something else, but he doesn’t seem to be able to manage any sort of reply.
After a few minutes of silence, she says, “I think I’ll head to bed. Good night, Rafa.”
“Night, Liv.”
It’s a long time before she actually falls asleep.
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Rafael had lingered over coffee this morning, helping her get Noah ready for Lucy to pick him up. Olivia can tell he has something he wants to say, but he hadn’t managed it before they both had to leave for work. He doesn’t manage it during dinner either, or while he and Noah are washing the dishes, or while they play Legos with him. By the time she’s finished reading Noah her half of his bedtime story, he still hasn’t said anything and she’s getting a little impatient, even as she recognizes the irony of that.
“What’s up?” she asks when he finishes with his own turn reading to Noah, and he leans against the back of the couch with a sigh.
“I think I’m going to find somewhere else to stay. I’m really too old to be sleeping on couches,” he says, rubbing at the back of his head, “I’ll sit down with Noah tomorrow, make sure he understands that I’m not really going anywhere, that I’ll be here for him whenever he wants me to be, whenever he needs me. I’ll make sure-”
“Come sleep in the bed.”
“What?” he asks, and some part of her feels the same, stunned at her own suggestion, knowing that once again he’s trying and she’s making things more complicated, but every other part of her does not want him to go. And that is a bright, blazing, simple feeling: she wants him here. She wants him here, and if he wants to be here, it’s simple, whatever complexities trail after it.
“Stay and sleep in my bed. It’s a lot more comfortable than the couch.”
“Liv, it’s not about comfort really. It’s-”
“I know. But I’m saying stay. If you want to, I’m saying stay,” she says, meeting his eyes despite the nervousness churning in her gut. She’s been so uncertain for so long that she’s worried her certainty now in this moment will fall short. And she knows that the circumstances of last February and his flight were extraordinary, but it still feels like if he leaves now, however close he stays and whatever promises he makes, she will lose some important part of him that she will never get back.
“Liv…,” he whispers, pushing away from the couch and crossing the floor to stand in front of her. She wants to grab his suspenders, to twist her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, to throw her arms around his neck and lean her weight into him and hold him here bodily. She wants to do everything she was too stunned and hurt and sad and understanding to do on that sidewalk in February.
But she can’t, at least not until Rafael gives her some indication of what he wants. He opens his mouth to say something and-
“Mom!”
Rafael winces, stepping back so she can go check on Noah. He’s apparently remembered the scheduling conflict that Lucy has in a few days, and she assures him that Lucy had told her and they’d made a plan. She gets him resettled under his covers with Eddie, lingering for a few seconds to gather herself before returning to the living room.
Rafael isn’t there, and his suitcase is missing from the corner. Olivia closes her eyes and clenches her jaw against the ache in her chest. He had said he’d explain to Noah, but maybe he had meant he would come back and talk to him, or maybe she’d scared him off and he’d taken the first escape route that had presented itself. She forces herself to take deep breaths until her hands stop shaking before she heads to her own bedroom.
Rafael is standing next to her bed in his pajamas.
“I figured if I’m going to be in here,” he says, gesturing to his suitcase, tucked into the corner, “I probably should have asked first.”
“No, that’s smart. Do you need anything?”
“I’ve got everything I need.”
Olivia doesn’t know how she’s going to fall asleep with her heart beating like this.
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She wakes up with an ankle tucked between his, an arm thrown over his waist, and her head on his shoulder, and she would be a lot more embarrassed about it if it wasn’t exactly what she had assumed would happen when he’d slid under the covers next to her last night.
“Liv?”
“Rafa.”
“If you still don’t want to talk, you should say so now and I’ll stop.” She doesn’t say anything, and he sighs. “Now I just need to figure out what to say.”
“If you want my advice, I’d stay away from metaphors about colors.” He laughs softly, and she presses herself closer to his side to feel the vibrations of it in his chest, the steady beat of his heart. Here. Here. Here.
“I didn’t know what to say then either. I wanted something that was worthy of everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve done. I wanted something that had a chance of lasting until I came back.”
“You should have just said that.”
“What?”
“That you were coming back. That’s really all I wanted to hear. I hated that you left, but I could understand why. But you didn’t just leave, you left me behind. You made this big speech about how I changed your life, and then you cut yourself out of mine like I didn’t feel exactly the same way. For months I wanted to reach out to you, to talk to my best friend, and you were always just out of my reach.” She realizes that her hand has gripped onto his shirt while she’s been talking, but she can’t get her fingers to relax. “It wasn’t you leaving that really hurt. It was feeling like I had lost you and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get you back.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant for it to… every time I tried, every time I didn’t manage to talk to you, everything just felt more and more fraught. Like the next misstep would be the last one and everything would finally crumble.”
“That’s because you’re trying too hard.” She shifts away from him so she can meet his eyes, and he turns onto his side, propping his chin up on his hand. “You and I, we’ve never needed… we understand each other. I don’t need fancy speeches, I just need you to talk to me without getting in your own way. I just need you, Rafa.”
Olivia can’t resist the urge to reach up and run her fingers through the front of his hair, and his eyes flutter shut. She wants to hook her fingers into his collar and tug him down to her, but she’s interrupted his attempts to talk to her enough these past few weeks.
“Liv, you’re my best friend,” he says, voice warm and soft, and she cups his cheek in her palm. “You’re my best friend, and I love you, and I would have told you that last February if it hadn’t felt monumentally unfair to say it when I was about to leave. But I’m telling you now because I promise I’m not going anywhere. And maybe that’s too much but-”
“It’s not too much.” Her hand drifts from his cheek to the back of his neck, fingers pressing just slightly, a suggestion. Rafael shifts to kiss her, softly at first, but then she opens her mouth against his, hand sliding up into his hair. The other nudges at his hip until he shifts over her properly, supporting his weight on his elbows as he sinks into the kiss.
After a few minutes, he pulls back, breathing heavily. “You don’t want to keep talking?”
Olivia grins. “We have time. You promised you’re not going anywhere, right?”
“I promise. I’m here.”
“Then we have time,” she says, pushing the back of his shirt up with both hands, wanting to feel more of his skin, “We have time to talk and we have time for a lot of other things and we have time for this, and right now I just want this.”
Rafael ducks his head to press his lips underneath her jaw. “Sounds like a plan I can get behind.”
“Are you sure? You were the one who wanted to ta-”
He cuts her off with his mouth against hers and one large, warm hand sliding underneath the hem of her shirt. In turn, she runs her fingers over the notches of his spine to feel him shudder against her. She’s just contemplating tugging his shirt off when she registers the sound of running footsteps out in the living room.
“Mom! Mom! Uncle Rafa’s gone!”
Rafael scrambles off of her, but he overcorrects in his hurry and she hears him grunt as he hits the floor. She doesn’t have time to check on him though, because Noah bursts through the door.
“Mom, Uncle Rafa left! He’s not here and his stuff’s gone and he left! ” he says, near tears as he climbs up onto the bed next to her.
“Noah, buddy, I’m right here,” Rafael says, pushing himself up onto his knees next to the bed, and Olivia can’t help grinning at the sight of him, hair sticking up all over from where she’d run her hands through it and still trying to catch his breath.
Noah sniffles, swiping at his nose with the back of his hand. “Your suitcase isn’t out there anymore.”
“Your mom thought it would be more out of the way in here,” he explains, pointing to where he’s stowed his bag in the corner.
“Oh.” Noah tilts his head. “Why are you down there?”
“I was, uh, helping your mom look for something.” He pulls himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, and Noah crawls over her to sit next to him.
“So you’re not leaving?”
“No, amigo, I’m not going anywhere,” he says, glancing over at Olivia with a smile as Noah throws his arms around his neck.
“That’s good. Can we have pancakes?”
“If it’s okay with your mom.” Noah turns to her without releasing his hold on Rafael, and she nods. “Alright, let’s go.”
She realizes something as Rafael stands, and she reaches over and catches his hand before he can move away from the bed.
“Noah, why don’t you get out the stuff we’ll need and Uncle Rafa will be there in a minute.”
“What’s up?” he asks once Noah’s out of the room, and she shifts up onto her knees so she can frame his face with her hands as she leans in to kiss him softly.
“I love you,” she says, resting her forehead against his, “I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier and I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want to.”
“I know,” he says, his grin truly stunning this close, “Plus, we’ve got time, yes?”
“Yeah.” She tucks her face in against his neck and leans into his chest. “We’ve got time.”