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When Rafael pushed the door open and walked in, the air around him changed. It went from New York’s cooling breeze to a heavy, humid static weight that settled onto his skin like a sticky film. But it felt familiar, so it was comforting.
Rafael took his preferred seat, the corner spot where he had extra space, and flagged the bartender with a quick wave.
“Rafael. Long time, no see,” Jonathan greeted with his trademark sly smile. “The usual?”
“Yeah, and some peanuts,” he said.
Rafael surveyed the bar, checking the crowd. It was still early; the groups were small and there was no one dancing. There was a sultry jazz ballad playing, warming up the evening as people started arriving.
He was a regular at this bar, which was conveniently a 10-minute walk from his apartment. It was different from Forlini’s; here he wasn’t ADA Barba, hunched over a legal pad, dinner plate pushed to the side. Here he was Rafael, just some guy having a drink and watching the crowd. It also helped that it was a LGBTQIA+ bar, flags of all kinds hanging behind the bartender. Rafael was a lot more comfortable.
He wasn’t there to pull. It had happened a couple times, as per the natural course of events, but Rafael had no plans of going home with anyone. At least not at the start of the evening. He wanted a drink, great music, and maybe some pleasant conversation if he approached anyone.
Jonathan returned with his drink, and a bowl filled to the brim with peanuts and pistachios. “Do you want me to open a tab?”
“Yes, thank you,” he said, and pulled the bowl closer. He’d made the mistake of leaving it unattended once; it disappeared in the blink of an eye, mistaken for one of the free, half-empty bowls of appetizers Jonathan left further down the bar.
Rafael had just finished his second drink when he caught sight of a young man sitting at the other end of the bar. He hadn’t seen him walk him, too distracted by the larger groups that had arrived, one of them containing a groom party. They were happy and loud, the groom wearing a sparkly blue crown. He was probably Rafael’s age, just a speckle of greying hair on his temples and smile lines around his mouth.
The young man was watching them too, a broad grin on his face as they chanted the groom’s name and he shot back glass after glass of tequila. He’d been peeling at the damp label of his beer bottle, making a mess on the counter, and once he turned away from the loud partying, he collected it all into a small pile and picked it up with a napkin.
He hunched his shoulders up, looking around furtively, embarrassed. Their eyes met then, and even in the low light Rafael could see the bright blue shade that was staring back at him. He was very handsome, a full head of silver hair styled in artful waves, the two buttons of his dark blue henley open.
The man checked him out, his eyes pausing on Rafael’s biceps, then when their eyes met again he turned away, caught. Rafael couldn’t help but chuckle.
Rafael was skilled at reading people, and everything in this man’s posture screamed first-timer.
The ADA picked a couple of pistachios and threw it in his mouth, still watching the man. He took a sip of his beer, set it down, and glanced at Rafael again. He held eye-contact for a couple beats, then looked away again, a small smile flickering on the corner of his lips.
“Jonathan,” Rafael called, and the bartender made to take his nearly empty glass, but Rafael shook his head. He tilted his head towards the young man. “Get him another beer, on me.”
Jonathan peeked over his shoulder at the man, who was well aware that they were talking about him, a hand scrubbing at the back of his neck as he pretended not to pay any attention to them. Jonathan nodded at Rafael, a knowing smirk in place.
Rafael watched as Jonathan grabbed another beer and opened it in a fluid motion, setting it in front of the man. He signaled to Rafael, and the man’s eyes traveled from the bottle to him. Rafael raised his glass in a toast and he returned it.
He wasn’t going to approach the man, but hoped that the beer sent the message that Rafael was open for conversation if he wanted.
Rafael went back to watching the crowd, way fuller now, bodies writhing and twirling with the music, but from the corner of his eyes he could see the blue-eyed man fidgeting, taking several sips of his beer, staring at Rafael.
As the song changed and the crowd cheered, the man stood up and made his way down the bar towards Rafael. He stopped right beside him, bottle of beer in hand, and a blush high on his cheeks. He was tall, lean, with a sharp nose and sharp jaw, full lips and dimples.
The man cleared his throat. “Thank you for the beer. Can I get you another one of those?”
Rafael threw back the last gulp of his Scotch, then nodded. “Sure.”
He pulled a $10 bill from his pocket and handed it to Jonathan. He hadn’t opened a tab then, and Rafael wondered if he’d planned to sit nursing one beer all night, watching the crowd, much like Rafael had done on his first time here, years ago.
“I’m Sonny, by the way,” he said, shifting in place.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Rafael,” he gestured to the highchair beside him. “Would you like to take a seat?”
Sonny flashed him another small smile and pulled the chair back. “Thanks.”
They sat in silence for a minute. Rafael sipped his fresh drink and Sonny twirled his beer in hand, staring at the liquid sloshing around inside the dark-brown bottle. In another life, this would have been awkward for him, but Rafael settled comfortably in the silence.
“So…,” Sonny started, “do you come here often?”
Rafael tilted his head at him. “I do,” he said. “Is this your first time?”
Sonny chuckled. “Is it that obvious?”
“Just a little,” he smiled. “But we’ve all been there.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, but I like this so far,” Sonny said with a heavy-lidded glance at Rafael.
He took a sip of his drink, returning said look, and gave Sonny a lopsided, understanding smirk before regarding the noisy groom party. They were now chugging tall glasses of beer and the groom’s crown was hanging sideways.
“Tonight’s been particularly exciting,” Rafael said.
“Definitely more eventful than the cop bars I’ve frequented.”
Rafael’s eyes snapped back to his. “You’re a cop?”
Sonny shrugged. “Was. Just passed the bar exam last week, so I’m leaving the force to practice law.”
Rafael shook his head in disbelief. “Of course.”
“What?”
“Nothing, just a funny coincidence. I’m a prosecutor.”
Sonny’s eyes widened, but he didn’t seem shocked. He seemed happy, a broad beam taking over his face. He looked younger when he smiled like that. “No way. Well, that really is an interesting coincidence.”
“Is tonight a celebration, then? For passing the exam?”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he considered it for a moment, picking at the label on the bottle. “I guess it could be, but to me it feels more like reclaiming my space. I’ve been guarded.”
Rafael knew what he meant; settling into a space, resigning to the fact that he’d have to keep things to himself just to be safe, unsure of whom to trust, unwilling to take the risk. Rafael had been there himself, so he offered Sonny a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
“To freedom?,” Rafael said, raising his glass.
Sonny smiled and clinked their drinks together. “To freedom.”
As if on cue, the groom party roared as they abandoned their table to make a circle on the dance floor, the groom in the center. Their dancing was sloppy, but still entertaining.
“So are you the married to the job type like me?,” Sonny asked.
“You could say that. But aren’t you going through a divorce right now?”
Sonny laughed, dimples going deep. “I guess I am, even though I’m getting remarried in two weeks.”
Rafael hummed. “If there’s any advice I can give you right now is to take the law out on a couple dates before you fully commit.”
“Yeah. I see your point,” Sonny sighed, then shifted in his seat. “But, uh… you are single, right?”
It was Rafael’s turn to laugh. “Yes, I am single.”
“Okay, good,” he smiled, leaning closer. “Do you wanna get out of here? We could get some dinner.”
“Dinner? What do you have in mind?”
“Well, I know a place a couple blocks down the street that does the second best carbonara you will ever have,” he said, then tilted his head, his eyelashes fluttering as his gaze fell heavy on Rafael. “Or you could come over to mine and I’ll make you the very best carbonara you’ll ever have.”
Rafael sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing it as he let the invitation hang between them. The night had taken a pleasant turn, and it was up to Rafael to choose whether to continue it or to end it now and part ways.
“That’s quite the promise, Counselor,” Rafael teased. “What happens if I choose the latter and you can’t hold your own in the kitchen?”
“Oh, I can hold my own just fine, Counselor, and I have all the evidence to support my claim,” Sonny said, pursing his lips in an attractive pout.
Rafael released his bottom lip and smirked. “Okay. Show me.”
Rafael carried another box from the coffee table to his desk, letting it fall with a thump on top of the pile of documents he’d made. It’d been so long since the last time they had buried him in paperwork as a defense tactic, he’d forgotten how it was. But Rafael refused to kneel, so instead of asking the court for a continuance, he’d asked his boss for co-counsel assistance.
“Mr. Barba,” Carmen peeked through the open door, taking in the room’s destruction before sliding inside. “Mr. McCoy has sent the co-counsel you requested, he’s here now. Should I ask him to come in or wait in a conference room?”
“Let him in,” Rafael said with a long-suffering sigh, “he might as well see what he’s getting into.”
Carmen nodded, stepping back out. Rafael busied himself with opening the box and pulling out more documents. His desk soon would be too full and he’d have to move to the other table.
“Geez, Counselor,” came a familiar voice, “now I know why they gave you such a big office and I had to take a shoe-box.”
“Sonny,” he breathed, and the weight lifted off his shoulders.
Sonny smiled softly at him, stepping over boxes to get to him and pull him into a gentle hello kiss. “Hi,” he said. “I heard you needed help.”
“I really do,” Rafael sagged onto Sonny’s chest. “Buchanan is a little shit.”
“I can see that,” he laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of Rafael’s head. “But he should know better than to piss you off, huh?”
Rafael straightened up, smirking at Sonny. “He’s gonna hate that you’re my co-counsel.”
“I know,” Sonny said, grinning. “Let’s get to work and maybe next time he’ll think twice before he tries this shit again.”
While Sonny might still be a Junior ADA, his skills were invaluable. Rafael was great at arguing, at getting the best deals out of a shitty case, but Sonny was quicker at finding useful information; his years as a police detective had granted him the ability to connect the dots fast, predicting the shortcomings of the human psyche better than anyone Rafael had ever seen.
To the DA’s office, they were the dream team. To defense attorneys, they were the devil reincarnated.
But as far as Rafael was concerned, meeting Sonny that night at the bar was the biggest stroke of luck he’d ever experienced.
That night, after Sonny invited him over for dinner, Rafael had walked him home and they ended up making out against the front door for half an hour before Sonny made good on his promise and whipped up the best carbonara Rafael had ever had.
They talked the whole night through, sharing stories about their time in law school. Sonny was witty, insightful, and the shadow that fell across his face when he talked about his years as a police detective only drew Rafael closer, made him study every twitch of disappointment on Sonny’s face for a deeper understanding of who the man sitting in front of him really was.
A year later, Rafael could say he knew Sonny better than his own reflection.
“Wait,” Sonny said, sitting up and picking up two other documents to stack with the ones in his hand. They were only one-third of the way through, but it was approaching dinner time and Rafael was two pages away from calling it a day and asking Sonny to make his beloved carbonara. “Look at this. This is his savings account, and the same transfer is coming through then immediately going out on the 7th of every month for the last…,” he rummaged through the pile he’d picked up, “19 months.”
Rafael sat up as well, setting his markers down. “Going out to where?”
“They’re all different accounts,” he tutted, handing Rafael the pile. “Do you recognize any of them?”
He ran his finger down each page, searching for the number he knew. “No, our vic isn’t here.”
“Did she mention any possible pay-outs?”
“No, but I don’t think they had time to even try. She reported him that same night,” Rafael frowned.
“But that’s gotta be what this is,” Sonny started pulling out more pages, numbers upon numbers. “They’re coming into his account, from the company, then going out. The same amount, every month.”
“That doesn’t sound like a pay-out, it sounds like an allowance.”
Sonny’s brow furrowed. “Raf, I think this guy might be a serial.”
This wasn’t what he’d been trying to find in discovery. He wanted records of communication between the victim and the accused. By trying to bury everything in these piles of paper, the defense had just multiplied the proportions of this case because Sonny’s instincts were never wrong.
“Let me call Olivia,” Rafael said with a heavy sigh. “She’s gonna have to talk to the victim again and try to figure out who these account numbers could be.”
“I’ll put these in a separate box for her to take.”
Olivia agreed with Sonny’s suggestion that they might be dealing with a serial and said the squad was going to re-interview the victim before calling the accused back for more questioning. That meant that, for tonight, Sonny and Rafael were done.
“Thank you,” Rafael said, smiling a tired but relieved smile. “That would have taken me twice as long without you.”
Sonny took his hand and squeezed his fingers before grabbing Rafael’s suit jacket from his chair and holding it out for him. “I like helping you,” he said. “But now let’s go home. I’ll make us dinner and we can watch some of those old Breaking Bad episodes on your DVR.”
Rafael hummed, content. “I’ve been saving those for a tough day.”
“I know,” he chuckled, leaning in to peck Rafael on the lips. “Who knew that night at the bar you were gonna meet your crime-fighting sidekick, huh?”
“You’re not my sidekick ,” Rafael laughed. “We’re the DA’s office dream duo and everybody knows that.”
“No, it’s okay, I like being your sidekick,” he said, then whispered, “because I think every sidekick is a little bit in love with the main character.”
“Just a little bit?”
“Okay, maybe a lot in love,” Sonny smiled. “But you get what I mean.”
“I do, but only because the main character wouldn’t be half as good if not for the sidekick. And while the sidekick might be a little, or a lot, in love, the main character is head over heels and then some.”
Sonny’s cheeks went pink, eyebrows dropping in an adoring expression. Rafael was all too familiar with that look. “You know what was the first thing I noticed about you that night?”
Rafael smirked. “My biceps.”
“No!,” his blush deepened. “I mean, I definitely noticed that, but that was the second thing. The first thing was your eyes. You have kind eyes and I knew I could trust you.”
“Yes, well, hopefully the defense won’t notice, I have a reputation to uphold,” he said, an instinctive deflection.
Sonny smiled. “We’ll keep that between the two of us.”
“Deal,” Rafael took Sonny’s hand and led him towards the door. “Let’s go home, sweet-talker.”
“We’ll go home,” Sonny said wistfully. “But when this case is over I want to take you out to our bar.”
“Our bar,” he grinned. “I like the sound of that.”