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The words blur and dance on the page. He rubs furiously at his eyes as he groans in frustration and drops his head on the dining room table with an unceremonious thunk. He’s not sure how long he wallows for before his exercise in self-pity is interrupted by the sharp creak of the loose floorboard leading up the kitchen from the bedroom.
“Please don’t tell me it’s morning already,” he practically whines, his face still pressed against the stack of files.
“Not quite.” Rafael’s chuckle, still heavy with sleep, fills him with a shimmered warmth that seems to cut through the flat night. “It’s just a little after two.”
“Oh shit, am I being too loud?” He finally lifts his head to see Rafael standing in the dim lamplight. The shadows cast across his face make him look like a tenebrism painting, the perfect contrast of light and dark, a little joy of shading and composition. Before he has a chance to apologize for waking him, the soft touch of Rafael’s lips steals the words that had been sitting on his tongue.
“Merry Christmas!” Rafael whispers as he pulls back slightly, millimeters between them. The feeling of his mouth ghosting against his makes him ache. Placing both of his hands on either side of Rafael’s face he lunges forward for another kiss, but is quickly pushed back, a square box materializing seemingly out of nowhere.
“Rafi, Christmas isn’t for another three weeks,” he reminds him.
“Why inhibit joy?” Rafael curls himself around him and he feels so cozy and fuzzy in the brain that he almost forgets he’s due in court to argue an impossible case in less than eight hours.
“Open it,” Rafael urges, pushing the box back into his hands.
He shakes his head, but proceeds to use the tip of a pen to slice through the translucent pieces of tape, careful not to tear any of the paper around it.
“ Mi vida , I know I work for a nonprofit now, but we’re not that hard up for cash that we need to save gift wrap.”
He feels more than hears Rafael’s huff of frustration as he delicately refolds the paper and sets it aside before popping open the box.
Even under the dull light of his flimsy desk lamp, the gold cufflinks seem to glow.
“A good luck charm, for your opening statement tomorrow.” He hears Rafael whisper in his ear, his words slurring with drowsiness. At that, he feels himself melt, feels himself crumble in the most delectable way. Standing, he wraps himself around Rafael and leads them both into the bedroom.
“I love you,” he says when they’re both settled into bed. Rafael makes a little hum, flashes a barely perceptible smile before responding. “And I you.”
Just as they’re both about to drift off to sleep, he sighs. “Rafi, did I ever bring you cases this bad?”
A soft puff of laughter escapes the man next him. “Every other week, mi amour . Every other week.”
The next morning, sitting at the table in front of the judge and jury with a far from perfect case, he runs a finger along the intricate design of the cuff links. The novelty of every expensive detail, the little recesses that catch light in that ever so perfect way, the shade of gold that somehow matches both his favorite suit and the peculiar shade of blue in his eyes, still hasn’t worn off.
As the day drags forward, even while Buchanan grandstands and pontificates, toeing the fine line between skilled orator and misogynistic asshole, he can’t help but admire the way the precious metal adorning his sleeves glisten. It makes him feel like he belongs in that room, is every bit the expert litigator Rafael believes him to be.
They’re in the middle of a heated cross-examination when he hears the soft click of the doors opening and closing behind him. Eyes he can’t see fasten on him and he finds himself suddenly suffused with confidence he didn’t have before. There are few things in this world more wonderful to him than knowing Rafael was right behind him, supporting him, loving him.
Buchanan drops some line about the witness acting like a bitter hag, which he immediately objects to, leading to a back and forth that ends with the witness in tears and the judge calling an eight hour recess so everyone could get a chance to, in her words, “cool down and get your acts together.”
“God he’s such a dick,” he mumbles as Rafael leads him out the courtroom doors. “How could you stand him?”
“You get used to it.”
In lieu of a working lunch, the two of them meander through the makeshift Christmas market that popped up overnight in front of the courthouse. The scent of Rafael’s cologne mixing with the smell of mulled spiced drinks and peppermint fills him with a watery rush of happiness, as if an ocean was rising in his chest. Suddenly, a chilling wind sweeps across them, sending a shiver down Rafael’s spine that he can feel even through his thick wool coat.
“Where’s your scarf, Rafi?” He asks, tucking the shorter man tighter into his embrace as they make their way down a row of shops selling artisan soaps made from various farm animal milks.
“What?”
“Your scarf.”
“Oh.” He watches Rafael move his hands to touch his neck. “I must have forgotten it at the office.”
“Let me walk you back then,” he offers, steering them toward Rafael’s building. “I’ll be your own personal windbreaker.”
“My gangly knight in shining armor.”
Later that evening, Rafael returns home, snowflakes clinging to his wind swept hair.
“Still no scarf?” Sonny moves to brush out the leftover snow.
Laughing, Rafael shakes off his coat. “What is it with you and my scarves?”
“Just want to make sure you stay warm.”
“I'm always warm when I'm around you.” Their lips touch and he feels like Rafael’s body is something more akin to some sort of soothing liquid than a solid. It’s almost as if he’s somehow able to fill in every nook and cranny between them, every crack and crevice.
The next morning he watches as Rafael loops a dark green scarf that makes his eyes shimmer around his neck.
“Satisfied, mi amour ?”
Tucking the ends into his coat, Sonny places a soft kiss on his eyelids. “Now make sure you wear it every time you go outside.”
“Oh god, you're worse than my mother.”
Over the next few weeks he watches as scarf after scarf seems to disappear. Rafael would leave the house bundled up sometimes with both a tie and scarf and come back shivering, his jacket zipped or buttoned all the way to his chin.
So, during an uncharacteristically slow court day, he decides to venture out to the closest shopping mall during his lunch break. He’s in the middle of sifting through what feels like an endless array of scarves when he feels a vibration in his pocket.
“Sonny! I’m in the city today and was wondering if you wanted to get coffee,” Gina all but screeches over the phone.
“I’m at the mall trying to get something for Raf right now, but I can meet you later. Around 4?”
“Perfect! Let’s go to the café close to where Mia goes to school. You know the one.” She hangs up before he even has a chance to reply.
Gina snatches the gift bag out of his hands before he even has a chance to sit down.
“Okay baby brother, show me what you got.” He watches her turn the scarf over in her hands a few times.
“So what do you think?”
“The man gets you gold cufflinks and you get him a scarf from JCPenny?”
“It’s from Macy’s, actually,” he corrects lamely.
“Same difference. That man is worth a small fortune and has a closet to die for and you got him a department store scarf?”
He shrugs. “He keeps losing his scarves. I figured this would be a nice gesture.”
Gina makes a barking noise too sharp to be an actual laugh. “That man doesn’t need nice practical gestures. He’s definitely more of a flaunt his fortune and style sort of guy. Trust me, get him something flashy, fun, expensive.”
“Maybe,” he finally replies. Luckily for him, Gina’s attention span prohibits her from staying on any one topic for too long and she quickly moves on to the latest piece of family gossip involving Bella and a fight at the PTA.
He drops Gina off at the train station before making his way to Rafael’s new office uptown, a shared space with a free clinic aimed at serving those who were undocumented.
From the end of the hall, he sees Rafael finishing up with his last client of the day. Rather than making his presence known, he opts to sit in one of the chairs outside his office dedicated to walk-ins hoping to steal a moment of his time between scheduled clients.
“No, Señor Barba, we cannot accept. It’s cuesto muy caro for him.” Curiously, Sonny leans over to peek at what’s going on.
“Nonsense. It’s cold, and everyone needs a signature scarf during the winter.” He watches as Rafael crouches down in front of the boy who looks no older than four or five and gently wraps the soft fabric around his neck.
“Mira, it looks much better on you.” The boy giggles as he rubs his cheek against what Sonny could only presume is cashmere.
“Me veo guapo?”
“Por supesto, muy guapo!”
“Gracias, señor. Feliz navidad!” The woman embraces him and Sonny catches the soft expression in Rafael’s eyes. This is the Rafael he knows and loves, open, affectionate. It’s this look, this feeling, he thinks to himself, that made everything with Drew and Rafael’s leaving the DA’s office worth it.
“Tu tambien,” Rafael replies as the mother and son walk out of his office and toward the elevators.
As soon as they’re out of their line of sight, Sonny wraps an arm around Rafael’s middle, pressing his chest against the shorter man's back. “So that’s where all your scarves are running off to.”
“How long have you been spying?” He hums in that way he only does when he’s truly content, like how a cat chirps awake when expertly stroked.
“Long enough.” He lifts his hands above Rafael’s head until the gift bag is dangling in eyesight. “Got you a present.”
“But Sonny, Christmas is a whole week away!” Rafael jokes, mimicking his tone from two weeks ago, as he pulls out a camel colored scarf.
“I know this isn’t much and doesn’t even begin to compare to your early gift, but I figured—”
He feels Rafael turn and put a hand on his chest. “It’s perfect.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not,” he says somehow both gently and earnestly. “You see me, Sonny. You notice things about me. Even small things like when I use the wrong shampoo or when I’m not wearing a scarf. No one has ever looked that closely at me before. No one but you.”
Sonny Carisi has heard all the truisms, knows that all that glitters is not gold and all that is gold does not glitter, but right now, as he wraps the scarf around Raf’s neck under the glistening yellow Christmas lights and gold tinsel he can’t help but feel like this is what fortune really feels lik e.