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It’s not a big deal. Really, it’s not. It was a routine sort of call out for SVU - someone reported a rape in progress and they got there just in time to apprehend the perp, who it turns out, is armed – with a rather nasty looking knife. But of course, the guy does a runner the moment the police arrive and Liv and Rollins were concerned with the victim - a traumatised thirteen-year-old boy - and so Sonny is the one who has to draw his weapon and pursue.
The perp ducks into an alley and though he has a head start, Sonny is gaining on him quickly. There’s a fire escape above them and when Sonny sees the perp eyeing it, he sighs. He never gets the easy chases.
The perp climbs onto a dumpster and tries to grab for the dangling ladder, except the seconds he took to reach for it are the seconds Sonny needed to catch up with him. He grabs the guy’s jacket and pulls firmly, sending the perp toppling to the ground. Except that somehow destabilises the dumpster and the whole thing comes crashing forward.
Being buried in rubbish isn’t great, Sonny will be the first to admit that, but having a large metal weight hit his ribs and side, crushing him into the asphalt is worse. All the air leaves him in a rush and he groans at the impact. He looks to his right and sees the perp was mostly hit by garbage bags and is – thankfully – too stunned to move.
Sonny carefully extricates himself out from under the dumpster, blinking away the tears that spring to his eyes at the pain from twisting his torso. He crawls through the garbage and manages to grab the perp just before he realises he could’ve made a clean getaway.
“You’re under arrest for rape,” he tells the man, handcuffing and then mirandizing him as he walks him back to where Rollins is waiting.
“Took you long enough,” Rollins says, wrinkling her nose. “And why do you smell like garbage?”
Sonny sighs. “Einstein here tried to climb a dumpster and upended it instead.”
Rollins laughs. “Well you can go back on your own then. Liv rode to the hospital with the victim, so I’ll take the perp in her car and you can drive the other one back so I don’t have to smell you.”
“Sure,” Sonny says tiredly. “See you back at the precinct.”
Rollins takes the perp off him and waves goodbye.
Sonny doesn’t know why he doesn’t just tell her. Why he doesn’t just say: 'Hey, I was crushed under a dumpster, my ribs feel like they’re on fire and I can’t breathe properly'. Well, that’s not quite true - he does know. He knows that he’s still the new guy, still unproven. Knows that even if he did tell her, Rollins probably wouldn’t care that much, the same way no one really cared that much when Declan Murphy pistol whipped him, broke his nose and then they left him sitting in holding for three hours. The same way, by the end of his time on the other SVU squads, no one cared enough to have his back on cases. He’s not Amaro, he’s not going to get a welcome back party, if he’s ever shot. So he just watches Rollins leave and then very slowly makes his way to where she’d parked their squad car.
Getting into the driver’s seat is difficult, when bending or twisting his upper body in any way sends white hot pain through his chest and makes black spots dance in front of his eyes. He makes it into the car eventually, muffling his shout of pain in his fist.
Driving proves to be a challenge too and he finds himself praying the whole way back to the precinct that no one decides to swerve in front of him or suddenly come out of nowhere, since the size of his blind spot has increased significantly.
Because of that he drives slowly, much slower than usual, and by the time he arrives in the squad room, trying to hide his pained wheezes as best he can, both Rollins and Fin look pissed.
“Took you long enough,” Fin grumbles.
Sonny shrugs and regrets it instantly, but hopes to Fin and Rollins it’ll just look like a guilty conscience.
“Never hurts to let ‘em stew in it a little, right?”
Rollins frowns. “I guess.”
“So, do you want me in there with him?” he asks and Rollins and Fin both vehemently shake their heads.
“Nah man, you stink. Get changed and then get started on your paperwork,” Fin says and Sonny nods.
“Will do,” he says, heading for the locker room.
He watches from the doorway to make sure both Fin and Rollins are in the interrogation room, before he closes the door and starts to unbutton his shirt.
He pulls off his shirt, glad he was running so late this morning that he forgot to put on an undershirt, since he imagines that will be even harder to wrestle off.
He swears when he looks down at himself. The entirety of his left side and hip, as well as a significant portion of his chest are already starting to colour, dark purple bruising spread across his skin. He’s no doctor, but there’s no way that’s a good thing.
With as gentle a touch as he can, he probes the bruised area and can’t hold back the cry of pain that escapes him.
As painful as it all is, there’s nothing he can do about it now, so he crosses to his locker and pulls out the fresh shirt that he keeps there for messy emergencies. It thankfully matches his current suit well enough, because he’s not sure he’ll be able to bend over to change his trousers without passing out.
Rollins and Fin are still in interrogation when he finishes and for once. Sonny is grateful to just be able to sit at his desk and do paperwork until his shift is over.
The lieutenant comes in half an hour later with a pinched look around her mouth that means the victim’s disclosure must have been a difficult one. Thankfully, all she asks of him is which interrogation room Rollins and Fin took the perp into.
Sonny goes back to his paperwork, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his side and counts the hours until he can go home.
When his shift is finally over, he walks out with Rollins who mutters about getting back to Frannie. It’s her usual excuse for avoiding going for drinks since Amaro left, though Sonny hadn’t even asked this time. He wishes her a goodnight and once again waits for her to drive away before beginning the slow, painful process of getting into his car.
He’s so tired that he just wants to collapse into bed and fall asleep – or possibly into a coma – but his mother would kill him if he died of internal bleeding, so he drags himself to the nearest hospital. He explains the situation to the ER nurse whose eyes widen when he sees the bruising on Sonny’s side and fetches a doctor.
Three hours and several x-rays later, Sonny is released with some heavy-duty painkillers, the knowledge that he thankfully only fractured one rib and bruised the rest, and strict orders to stay out of the home from work.
He takes the painkillers as soon as he’s home and doesn’t even bother eating, he just stumbles into bed, careful to lie on his uninjured side, and falls asleep.
-
Work for the next week is hell. The painkillers make him too drowsy to drive or even think properly, so he leaves them at home. Every time he has to stand up, he feels like he’s being stabbed in the side with a hot poker. He stops volunteering to interview perps, to visit victims in the hospital, even to run files over to Barba, preferring instead to stay at his desk as much as he can.
It’s the last one that hurts the most. He knows his crush on Barba is probably obvious to everyone but the ADA himself, but he can’t keep himself away. He just looks up to the other man, admires him, and wishes that just once Barba would agree to go out for a drink with him without the rest of the squad being there. Wishes that maybe one day, he’d look over at Barba and find him looking back.
The only time he’s not in pain, is when he’s home and is able to take the medication the ER doctor gave him. By the time he gets to Friday evening, he’s looking forward to a weekend of lying on the couch and not moving except to get food or take another pill.
Which is, of course, why on Saturday, all hell breaks loose. Sonny’s phone rings sometime after lunchtime – too soon after his last pill for him to drive, when the lieutenant mentions a missing a child and says she needs all hands on deck. Sonny mumbles an excuse about his car being in the shop and tells Liv he’ll be there as soon as he can, before getting dressed as quickly as possible and calling an uber.
By the time he staggers into the squadroom, the pills are starting to wear off and he groans internally when Liv immediately sends him and Rollins out to canvas the missing child’s neighbourhood. For once, he doesn’t object to Rollins insisting she drive.
“You’re quiet,” Rollins says as they approach the street the little girl lives on. “Usually I can’t get you to shut up.”
Sonny makes a half-hearted effort to laugh. “Nah, I’m just tired, was looking forward to a quiet weekend.”
“Yeah, I hear that,” Rollins agrees as she parks the car.
-
They get lucky. One of the neighbours points them in the direction of the owner of the corner shop, who had been seen watching the little girl more than once – and whose shop was conveniently shut today due to a family emergency.
They get an emergency warrant and wait just long enough for Fin and Liv to arrive before busting into the shop owner’s apartment. He hadn’t even bothered to get out of town with the girl, they’re sitting at the table together.
He surrenders immediately, insisting that he found her wandering the streets alone and Sonny is once again left to arrest him. Except the shop owner decides to put up a struggle at the last moment, so Sonny earns a hard elbow to the chest while trying to cuff him.
The pain hits him so suddenly that he feels nauseous and he everything goes white in front of his eyes. Everyone else is so preoccupied with comforting the young victim and searching the rest of the apartment that they don’t notice. Sonny pulls himself together and grabs the guy’s arms again, managing to cuff him this time.
“Fin, did you find anything in the bedroom?” Liv asks once uniformed officers have taken the girl to her parents, who were waiting outside for her.
“Yep,” Fin says, reemerging from the bedroom. “Pictures - none of which are legal.”
Liv turns to the perp. “Well, Mr Johnson, seems like you’ll need to keep your shop shut for the foreseeable future. Carisi, Rollins, get him to the precinct. I’ll call Barba.”
-
“Well,” Barba says, when Benson and Rollins come out of the interrogation room, leaving Johnson to confer with his lawyer. “I’d say this is an open and shut case. The jury will take one look at that guy, the pictures you found in his apartment, and convict immediately. With any luck, this won’t even have to go to trial.”
“Does that mean we can go home, boss?” Fin asks and Liv nods.
“Yes, go and enjoy what’s left of your weekends,” she says.
Sonny breathes a sigh of relief, only to bite back a groan when Fin claps him on the back on his way past. Liv and Rollins are talking about Noah, so they don’t notice, but when he gets his expression under control and looks up again, Barba is staring right at him, a frown on his clever face.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, still staring right at Sonny.
Fin turns in the doorway. “What’s wrong with whom?”
“Sonny,” Barba says, jerking his head towards him. “You patted him on the back and he went white as a sheet. What’s wrong with him?”
Any other day, Sonny would be elated that Barba is looking at him, let alone using his first name. Today though, all he wants is to go home and forget about the way everyone is staring at him, like they’re disappointed, like he’s weak.
“Carisi?” Liv asks with a frown, her conversation with Rollins forgotten. “What is he talking about?”
Sonny shakes his head. “I don’t know, I’m fine.”
“Are you?” Barba asks and Sonny gets the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he’s about to be cross-examined. “Alright, pick these up.”
Sonny frowns and Barba picks a stack of files off Liv’s desk and drops them on the floor.
“What?” Sonny exclaims. “I’m not picking those up, we're not in a courtroom, you can’t tell me what to do.”
Barba raises an eyebrow. “Pick them up, or admit that you can’t.”
Sonny scowls at him and bends over to pick up the files, sucking in a sharp breath when the movement puts pressure on his ribs. Still, he can’t get down low enough to reach the files and the floor starts to swim in front of his eyes.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Barba’s voice says and then there are warm hands on his shoulders, encouraging him to stand up again.
One of Barba’s hands slides down his side, squeezing just hard enough to make Sonny hiss and flinch away.
“Carisi are you hurt? What’s wrong?” Rollins asks, stepping forward.
Sonny bats Barba’s hands away – not something he thought he’d ever be doing – and sighs. “Look, it’s fine, I’ve already been to the ER.”
“You had to go to the ER?” Liv asks. “Carisi, you should have told me.”
Sonny shakes his head. “Honestly, I’m fine lieu. Give me a couple of weeks and I’ll pick up as many files as you need me too.”
Live purses her lips, but nods. “Fine, but you’re on desk duty until you’re cleared by an NYPD physician.”
Sonny hangs his head but nods his agreement. “Alright.”
“Good, then I’ll see you on Monday. Look after yourself, Carisi,” Liv says, dismissing him.
Sonny follows Fin out of the office and heads straight for the lift without going to back to his desk. The doors are just closing when a hand appears between them and they open again, allowing to Barba step in. Sonny scowls at his feet, but doesn’t speak.
“What, you’re not going to talk to me?” Barba asks.
Sonny looks up at him, still glaring. “What do you want me to say? You got me in trouble with my lieutenant.”
“Sonn- Carisi, if you’re hurt, Liv needs to know,” Barba argues. When Sonny doesn’t say anything, Barba gives him a wry smile. “So what is it? Cracked ribs? How many?”
Sonny clenches his jaw, but nods. “Fractured, but it’s just one. The rest are just bruised.”
“Just,” Barba mutters under his breath.
The lift doors open before he can say any more and Sonny storms out, getting halfway to the exit leading to the carpark before he realises he doesn’t have a car and turns back. Barba is standing on the curb outside, frowning at his phone, when Sonny walks outside.
“Didn’t drive today?” he asks when he notices Sonny.
“Nah, I’d already taken painkillers and I can’t drive with them,” Sonny explains. “I took an uber in.”
Barba nods. “Well, good luck getting one now, the surge prices are through the roof and most of them are booked already.”
“Great,” Sonny groans.
“You can, uh, you can share mine if you want? I’ve got a car coming in five minutes.”
Barba almost sounds nervous, but Sonny shakes his head. “It’s okay, I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”
“No, it’s fine,” Barba insists. “Consider it my apology for… exposing you.”
He offers Sonny a smile and he relents. “Fine, but only because my side is killing me.”
Barba nods. “Okay then." He looks at Sonny. "How did it happen? You didn’t say.”
“Uh, you know that perp earlier this week? The one we caught in the middle of assaulting that teenage boy?” Sonny asks and Barba nods. “I was chasing him and the jerk tried to climb on top of a dumpster to reach a fire-escape. I pulled him down and the dumpster fell on top of me.”
“Jesus,” Barba mutters. “And I’m assuming you didn’t go to the hospital straight after, since none of the other so-called detectives knew?”
“I went after my shift,” Sonny says defensively.
Barba shakes his head, but doesn’t say any more as the car pulls up. He holds the door open and watches as Sonny begins the embarrassingly slow process of folding himself into the backseat. When he’s finally sat inside the car, Rafael closes the door and circles to slide in the other side.
“What’s your address?” he asks, and when Sonny tells him, he amends the journey on his phone. When he’s done, he turns back to Sonny. “So, why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Sonny shakes his head. “I know you probably haven’t been in my position in a while, but I’m still the new guy. Everything I do, it’s under scrutiny. I didn’t want the lieu to think I messed up again.”
Barba frowns. “Again?”
“Well uh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but I wasn’t exactly well liked when I first joined the squad,” Sonny mutters.
“I liked you,” Barba says and he looks almost as surprised as Sonny feels at the admission.
Sonny shakes his head. “It’s okay, you don’t have to try and make me feel better just because I’m hurt.”
“I think you’re overestimating how nice I am,” Barba says with a smirk and Sonny laughs. “Besides, no matter what the squad’s… first impression of you was, they respect you now – and they care if you’re hurt.”
“Yeah?” Sonny asks, looking up at Barba whose expression is unusually sincere.
Barba nods. “Yes, although I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure why you mistrust them so much.”
“Well, you know what they say,” Sonny says with a shrug. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me three times, move to the Manhattan squad and stay wary.”
“Liv never did explain why you moved through so many boroughs,” Barba says slowly.
“She doesn’t know,” Sonny says, picking at his cuticles. “1PP isn’t big on talking about homophobia within the NYPD – even to its own officers.”
There's quiet in the car and he doesn't look up until a large hand covers his own.
“I’m sorry,” Barba tells him, voice pitched low. “You shouldn’t have to hide such a big piece of yourself to feel safe doing your job.”
“I uh… I was never really that good at hiding it, to be honest,” Sonny says and very slowly turns one of his hands so he can hold Barba’s.
He catches a glimpse of a smile on Barba’s face and then the ADA is interlacing their fingers. “You were never subtle, that’s true,” he says softly.
Sonny can’t help the smile that spreads across his face and then Rafael leans forward to kiss him. It’s brief, gentle, hardly more than a press of lips against his. The car stops and when he pulls away, Sonny looks out the window to see they're in front of his apartment building.
“This is me,” he says and Barba nods, moving away from him. “Do you, uh... Do you want to come up?”
Barba hesitates for just a moment, before nodding. “Alright.”
He gets out of the car and is around the other side and helping Sonny up before he can blink.
“Thanks,” Sonny says quietly, flushing at the feeling of Barba’s hands on his back and waist.
They stay quiet on their way up to Sonny’s apartment. By the time the lift deposits them on his floor and he unlocks the door, he’s so sore and tired, he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed about the mess of books and coffee mugs on his dining table. He shrugs out of his jacket and groans.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” he says.
Barba tenses, freezing in the middle of taking off his own coat. “Do you want me to go?”
“No,” Sonny blurts. “I mean… I just meant that I’m not going to be very good company.”
“I’ve been told more than once that I’m usually terrible company,” Barba says and Sonny laughs softly.
“I respectfully disagree, Rafael.”
The ADA shakes his head. “Of course you do.”
He folds his coat over the back of the sofa and steps towards Sonny. “I’m not usually so forward, but… take your shirt off.”
“Huh?” Sonny asks.
“Take your shirt off, so I know exactly where to avoid touching you,” Rafael orders and Sonny, for reasons beyond his understanding, does as he’s told.
He pulls off his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt, grimacing when he looks at the bruises which have only just started to fade from purple to a bluey-green in some areas.
“Dios mío, soleado,” Rafael says under his breath, one of his hands stopping just short of touching Sonny’s chest. “Right, you’re going to get changed and then take your painkillers and I’m going to put you to bed.”
Sonny raises his eyebrows. “You really are being forward, counsellor.”
Rafael shakes his head, but he smiles. “You really think you can move enough without pain to do anything interesting?”
“No,” Sonny pouts and Rafael kisses him again.
One hand settles on the small of Sonny’s back, the other cupping his cheek. When they break apart, Rafael leans his forehead against Sonny’s.
“Go and get changed and then take your meds,” he says softly. “Cracked ribs hurt like a bitch.”
Sonny nods. “I will… if you stay.”
Rafael sighs, but agrees. “Just until you’re settled, I have more work to do.”
“You can do it here,” Sonny suggests as he walks into the bedroom.
He changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and when he returns, Rafael is sat on the sofa, socked feet up on the coffee table, files open on his lap. Sonny takes his painkillers and then joins Rafael on the sofa.
“Hey, Rafael?” Sonny asks, receiving a hum in reply. “How do you know what cracked ribs feel like? And before, in the precinct, how did you know that’s what was wrong with me?”
Rafael looks up from the file he’s reading and sighs. “It’s not that big a deal… you’re wary around your squad for a reason, I’m wary around fathers.”
“I’m sorry,” Sonny says quietly, reaching for Rafael’s hand.
Rafael intertwines their fingers. “I know. So am I. Now, are you going to go rest?”
“I can rest here,” Sonny says, making himself more comfortable on the sofa, fingers still laced through Rafael’s.
Rafael flashes him a smile. “I’m not going to disappear, you know. I like you, Sonny, not just for today, not just because you’re hurt.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Sonny says, smiling at him. “I like you too.”
“You should sleep,” Rafael says and Sonny nods, putting his head on his shoulder, already drowsy from the painkillers.
“I will.”
The last thing he feels before falling asleep, is Rafael pressing a kiss to the top of his head and a thumb stroking the back off his hand.