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Nights like tonight usually found Rafael wishing for the days when he was a junior ADA.  In those days, he was packed into a room with two other attorneys, a paralegal, and maybe a legal assistant, and perhaps, on a good day, someone had thought to make coffee or take out the office garbage so that he wouldn't have to.  Of course, at that stage in his career, no one had expected him to shell out money for a tuxedo for a thousand dollar a head fundraiser, either.  He had no doubt that if he had shown up to something like the Five Boroughs Ball back then when he was a fresh faced, chubby cheeked prosecutor, all anyone would've asked him was who he was and why he was there.

Maybe they would've listened to him answer both questions before getting bored of him, but Rafael sincerely doubted it.

But that was a long time ago, now.  Thirty years, give or take, which was unbelievable in and of itself.  Events like these had long been old hat to Rafael.  He’d liked them once, if he was being honest – once people started recognizing him, praising him for his prowess as a prosecutor, for his conviction rate.  It had been fun to attend these functions, to run circles around the politicians and the fat cats who thought they were half as intelligent as he, show them what a scrawny little kid from the Bronx could grow up to be.

Now, Rafael barely tolerated these events - for the pompousness, for the bullshit that ran rampant between every drink poured and hors d'oeuvre served and handshake shook, for the dark corner and backroom deals that took place at parties like these, for the media and paparazzo and fashion blogs that commented on how everyone looked, and who was on who's arm, and who was wearing the latest, hottest designer because God knew the celebrities and the socialites had to get their inch of column space in Page Six.  It was all so showy and flashy, and Rafael didn't necessarily mind showy and flashy so long as there was some substance to go with it.

There was very little of that to be found here.

In fact, Rafael was quite comfortable in his belief that a majority of the substance that could be found in this room had walked in on his arm that evening.  Olivia hated these public extravaganzas as much as he did, but both she and he had managed to share a laugh while also sharing a car on their way to the gala at the absolute absurdity they both knew they were going to experience throughout the evening.

He watched her now from his perch at a high-top round table while his fingertips danced along the rim of his scotch glass and the brass of the same jazz band who'd performed last year swooned low and seductive in the ballroom.  The Mayor was the latest public figure to commandeer her time, and Rafael was sure that in his mind, the guy thought he was somehow in control of whatever conversation he was having with Olivia, but Rafael knew better.  He was intimately familiar with the set of her jaw, the slight lift of a carefully manicured eyebrow, how she held her shoulders - gorgeous things, those shoulders of hers - and back, firm and strong; she was humoring the Mayor, and the guy was too much of an idiot to realize that no, actually, Olivia Benson was not as enamored with his political acumen and charms as everyone else who surrounded him professed to be.

Rafael allowed his gaze to linger on her a while longer - on her honey highlighted hair, pinned back in a loose, yet elegant chignon with tendrils framing her dark blushed cheeks and delicately outlined brown eyes.  Even from across the room, Olivia lit up everyone and everything around her like a beacon, and Rafael was selfishly glad that he'd insisted on her indulging in a new gown for the evening.  She'd fought him on it at first, of course she had.  Olivia had rarely ever been one to spend money on herself - she had Noah, and like any good mother she wanted to make sure he had everything he needed and wanted before she ever spoiled herself.  The problem was that she rarely did so.

"I can't believe you're spending this kind of money on a dress I'm only going to wear once," Olivia grumbled next to Rafael as she watched him tap his credit card against the machine.  "I can't believe I'm letting you spend this kind of money on something so stupid at all, actually."  

Rafael's laugh was low and warm as he signed the credit card screen, and the clerk handed the now bagged dress over the counter to Olivia for her to take.

"You should be praising me for my restraint; I could've taken you to Flora on Madison," he pointed out, smirking quietly to himself while ignoring the dirty look she gave him.  In truth, once Olivia had finally relented to allowing him to purchase a new dress for her, she'd insisted on shopping at Macy's.  'They're economical', she'd said, filled with enough options for a person who needed a dress for only one night and if he was insisting on paying for it then she would be the one to mind his checking account.

"You deserve this, Liv," Rafael told her, walking away from the counter with her next to him and heading for the escalator.  "I know it's hard for you to believe that, but you do, and I am beyond ecstatic that you let me bring you here today and buy this for you."

"It's too much, Rafael," she muttered, her lips close to his shoulder as she looked around, almost as if she was sure people were staring at her, sussing out that she'd committed the imagined crime of allowing her boyfriend to purchase her a gown for one-time use.  

Rafael stepped off the escalator, tangling his fingers with Olivia's and offered her a blithe smile.  "Nonsense."  At her unconvinced expression, he added, "We haven't even bought your shoes, yet."  

"Barba, no-"

"Barba, yes," he offered her a bright grin and tugged her through the store towards the street exit.  "Come on.  Lunch, and then shoes."

That day had been one of the best Rafael had had in a long time, and not just because he'd managed to strong arm Olivia into doing something nice for herself for once, but because they'd gotten to spend an entire Saturday together - no crises, no life-or-death cases to solve - completely uninterrupted.  Noah had opted for a sleepover that night at a friend's house.  Olivia wasn't on call.  Rafael's new job with the DA's office didn't require him to work weekends unless shit hit the fan.  It had been just them, and they'd made full use of it.

Now he was looking at the results of that Saturday striding towards him, and Rafael knew he would mortgage his condo at the drop of a hat if the endgame was Olivia looking the way she did right now.  The gown was loose in the skirt but hugged everything from the waist up, a Grecian affair of draped midnight blue over one golden shoulder leaving the other bare while the floor-length layered skirt swished about her legs.  She'd gone light on the cosmetics which was fine by Rafael - as far as he was concerned, she was perfect without powders and blushes - and had broken out a pair of single, diamond studded earrings that she’d said she hadn't worn in a while.

She was stunning, the goddess Athena come to life in Manhattan, and he found himself pressing a grateful kiss to the curve of Olivia's bare shoulder as she came alongside the table to stand next to him.

"How's the Mayor?" He asked, his lips and beard still grazing against her skin.  How the hell was he meant to keep his hands to himself when she looked so beautiful?  Smelled so good?

"Smarmy, as usual," Olivia chuckled, tugging her shoulder away from him gently after allowing him to indulge himself for a few moments more.  "As soon as he mentioned moving me into the deputy chief's position, I made tracks."

"Can't say that I blame him for trying," Rafael smiled at her.  "You could do a lot of good in that role, Liv."

"That 'role' is nothing but reporting to 1PP and putting out political fires, especially ones that may burn his office" she deadpanned.  "I've made it my life's mission to stay as far away from 1PP as I possibly can; if I wanted to fight fires, I'd've joined FDNY."

"You'd make the uniform look great, that's for sure."

That remark earned Rafael a swat on his arm and a smothered laugh in his neck as he took the opportunity to kiss her shoulder again.  

"Jeez you two, get a room, would ya?"

Rafael didn't even bother to look up at the familiar accent; he was far more concerned with the smooth skin occupying his mouth.  "Carisi, it's past your bedtime, isn't it?"

"Please, like he even sleeps," Rollins came around the other side, setting her rocks glass on the table next to Rafael's.  "He's worse than Anthony."

"Hey, me being up to take care of him means you not getting up all hours of the night, so no complainin' from the peanut gallery."  Carisi set his beer down.  "Cap, you look beautiful."

Rafael preened inwardly while Olivia thanked Carisi and made small talk with him and Rollins.  He would never tire of hearing people compliment her for any reason.  And, it was one more point in his favor for his insistence on buying her that dress.

"You know if Fin were here, it'd be like old times," Amanda looked around the gala, at the waiters with their food-filled trays.

"Yeah, remind me to be on a honeymoon next time this thing comes around," Carisi snarked. 

"A honeymoon?  You planning a wedding I don't know about?" Amanda raised an eyebrow at him and Rafael offered not one iota of sympathy Carisi's way as he tried his utmost to stammer out a response.

"You're an ADA, Carisi; you're supposed to be quick on your feet," Barba snorted at him.

"No, I just - you know, I was actually thinkin' maybe we could take another one?" Carisi offered the suggestion as more of a question but it caught Rollins' attention well enough.  "Since our first one wasn't really all that long."

"Nice save," Rafael muttered.

"Agreed, very nice save," Amanda smirked at her husband.  "Expensive save, too, but I'll allow it."

Rollins and Olivia started tossing out vacation ideas and Rafael felt an absurd amount of glee well within him as he watched Carisi's hair grow ever more silver with each cash cow destination the women suggested.  He turned towards Amanda, an impish gleam in his eyes.  

"Rollins, have you ever been skiing?"

"Now that you mention it, Counselor, I haven't," Amanda grinned at him before turning her Cheshire smile on her husband.  "Skiing sounds fun."

"That's uh - skiin', that's you know... 'Manda, we're public servants, skiin's probably more expensive than St. John's."

"It's closer," she pointed out, "there are plenty of places in the state we can go, we can take the kids, we can drive-"

"And I may know a friend or two who might be willing to loan you their cabin," Rafael broke in, now genuinely wanting to help Carisi out, lest the poor guy find himself in the middle of a full blown panic attack even though the mess was entirely of his own big mouth's making.  The other man looked a little less like he was on the verge of a heart attack and Rafael shook his head ruefully as Amanda ran a soothing hand along her husband's arm.

"Do you really think any of your friends would offer up their cabin to a family with three kids?" Olivia asked suspiciously.  

"Rita owes me," he shrugged, dropping a kiss to her shoulder again.

Rollins was right: it was like old times, sure, but better.  So much better.

*

Olivia was enjoying a shared plate of meats and cheeses with Rafael when a familiar bald head veering off from the entrance caught her attention.  She furrowed her brow, lifting her chin a little more to confirm her sighting.  Rafael followed her gaze.

"Elliot's here," she stated needlessly.

"Hm," Rafael wiped his fingers with a napkin, observing for a moment as Stabler roamed alongside Sergeant Bell with the young woman whom he'd come to know as Jet trailing behind him. "They all look about as happy as we are to be here."

"Oh, don't give me that," Olivia gave him a knowing look. "You're very happy to have me here; tonight is the entire reason you convinced me to let you buy me this."  She swept her hand down her front, indicating the gown.

"Guilty," Rafael sighed, his eyes roaming over her form unabashedly, and Olivia allowed herself to feel pleased at his undisguised appraisal of her.  It had been a long time since she'd been at ease with someone appreciating her so openly.  In truth, it used to make her feel self-conscious, and depending on who was showing such appreciation, slightly creeped out.  When Rafael did it, all it made her feel was loved, safe.  "I'll take the maximum sentence," he added, and Olivia snorted into her wine glass.

"Bold of you to say when you don't know what the sentence would be."

"Anything metted out by you could hardly be called punishment."  Rafael's eyes were bright and kind and soft, and Olivia didn't have the heart to needle him about the fact that she could most assuredly dish out some pain when she so desired.  She loved it when he looked at her like that; it steadied her in a way she hadn't ever realized he - or anything for that matter - could.

"Do you want to go say hello?" Rafael asked after a few quiet moments of eating.  Olivia considered the question - and him.  She had seen Elliot off and on since the New Year, mostly through a joint case or two that they'd worked together, but just as before, there wasn't much communication between them otherwise.  Elliot hadn't asked for it, but she'd decided to give him space all the same, to leave it to him to reach out to her, knowing that he was still hurting from their conversation back in January.  She'd texted him on his birthday, and on the anniversary of Kathy's death to make sure he was okay.  Tonight was the first time she'd seen him in a few months and she found herself wanting to walk over to him, talk to him, joke about how much they both hated these things and whine about how their bosses were making them be here anyway. 

"You'll be okay over here?" She asked.

"I have food, I have scotch, and Carisi's over there selflessly providing free entertainment to the masses as he tries to lead Rollins in what I think he thinks is a waltz without tripping over himself," Rafael responded wryly, pointing over to Carisi who indeed resembled more Bambi on ice than he did even a nominally competent adult who should've been used to being light on his feet thanks to his years with the NYPD.  "I'll be fine," Rafael smirked.

Olivia squeezed his hand once and allowed herself to drift away from the table towards the OC trio.  It didn't take long for Elliot to notice her, and she waited patiently while he extracted himself from a conversation with a lieutenant she knew from Homicide, who turned his attention to Jet once Elliot walked away.

"Ayanna got you into the penguin suit after all," she greeted him, her lips twisted in a teasing smile.

"Half a penguin suit at any rate," Elliot looked behind him, "no tails."  He took her in from head to toe and Olivia allowed him to look his fill.  "Liv, you look gorgeous."

"You don't clean up so bad yourself," she returned.  "I was wondering if you were going to be here tonight."

"Well, I tried to get Sarge to let me go in on an undercover but," he clicked his teeth, shrugging, "no dice."

"And what would this undercover op have entailed?" Olivia quirked an eyebrow and Elliot looked over his shoulder at Ayanna before dipping his head low to answer.

"I hadn't gotten that far in my story yet."

"You mean you tried to invent a way for you to get out of coming to this thing tonight by creating some fake excuse for you to go under?"

"Can neither confirm nor deny," Elliot's grin was absolutely shit eating and Olivia couldn't help but laugh.  

"You get to suffer with the rest of us, El." Olivia had no intention of feeling sorry for him.  "Ayanna looks like she's making the most of it," she pointed out, and Sergeant Bell was indeed chatting up an NYPD Captain and a New York Assemblyman if the lapel pin on his jacket was anything to go by.  Ayanna knew how to play the game, and she played it well, making the best of any situation including events where she was expected to schmooze and talk up the brass; if Bell had to be here, she was going to get something out of it.  Olivia admired that attitude, and reminded herself that there were still a few legislators in the room whose ears she needed to bend about her own list of priorities.

"She's up for the lieutenant's exam, she leads a high-profile taskforce," Elliot supplied easily, turning around so that he was facing towards his sergeant and Jet.  "There was no way she was going to get out of being here tonight."

"Well, she was here last year too, so that's not all that surprising."

"I know.  During one of our check in's she mentioned seeing you here."  Elliot's words fell off after that and Olivia got the distinct impression that there was more that could've been added to that statement, but she let it go.  She wasn't here to drag things out of Elliot Stabler.

"And Jet?" Olivia inquired instead.  The girl couldn't have looked more bored if she tried, and Olivia actually felt a little badly that Jet was here schlepping with an older, established crowd of politicians and upper crust, boring elite when she probably could've been out having fun with people her own age.

"Ayanna wanted the whole team here."

Olivia furrowed her brow.  "Aren't you missing a detective?"

"Reyes is on loan to Vice right now," Elliot grumbled.  Olivia barely managed to hold back a laugh.

"So, he's actually undercover and you're here."

"Not for lack of trying on his part," Ayanna swept up beside them both, offering a cheeky smile to Elliot before turning a warmer, more genuine one on Olivia.  "Nice to see you again, Liv.  New dress?"

"Uh, yeah," Olivia looked down at herself as Jet made her way over to them, too.  "Just... you know, something off the rack at Macy's."

"Is there a good lawyer anywhere in this room?" Jet asked unceremoniously, her face a priceless canvass of misery.  Olivia couldn't help when her gaze wandered over towards Barba, who currently had his face in his hands while watching Carisi trip over his and Rollins' feet.  Again.  

"There are several," Liv pointed towards a robust lawyer she knew.  Buchanan.

"I said a good lawyer," Jet deadpanned.  Olivia smirked. 

"Jet, why do you need an attorney?" Ayanna asked, though Olivia noticed it was asked with the kind if hesitance that suggested Bell might not actually want the answer.

"Because this event constitutes cruel and unusual punishment, and I want to sue for a gross violation of my Eighth Amendment rights."

Elliot nodded sagely in agreement with his protégé as Ayanna turned her eyes heavenward; Olivia knew that feeling all too well.  

"Lord help me get through this night."

*

Olivia had finally been able to sneak out onto the dance floor with Rafael and was blessedly enfolded in his arms after managing to escape the police commissioner.  She got the feeling while she'd been trapped between NYPD's head honcho and the bar that he and the mayor were conspiring to drag her into the deputy chief position and said as much to her dance partner.

"I know you don't like the politics and bureaucracy but Liv, imagine the effect you could have on the NYPD from the inside," Rafael turned her slowly, one hand tucked against her lower back while his other held her hand snuggly against his chest.  They were as close as they could be without standing on each other's toes.  "You could implement policies that would help more victims than you could possibly touch in a lifetime, create lasting change that will live beyond your tenure with SVU."

It wasn't that Olivia hadn't considered that - she had.  And it wasn't that Rafael wasn't making sense or that she didn't see the logic in his argument - she did.  But at the same time, the very thought of leaving SVU, of leaving fieldwork, of not being able to be as directly involved with cases and victims as she'd always been left her feeling empty.

"I'm just not cut out for that kind of... role," she finished lamely.

Olivia felt rather than heard Rafael sigh, let him lean his cheek against hers.  "You sell yourself short," he whispered in her ear.  "I've watched you move mountains, Liv.  You took over SVU when Cragen left and made it your own.  You've navigated regime changes at the mayor's office, the commissioner's office, God knows the DA's office."

Olivia laughed quietly.  Very true.

"I've watched you twist perps and punk defense attorneys into pretzels."

"And ADAs?" Olivia arched an eyebrow at him; Rafael smirked.  

"Perhaps once or twice.  Never me, though."

"Ah, of course not," she nodded knowingly at him.

"Liv, if you don't want to make the move to 1PP because it's simply not a career change you desire, I will back you up on that, always.  But if you don't want to make the move because you're nervous about leaving SVU or because you doubt the impact you'll have, querida... I will tell you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about, because I know that whatever you choose to do, whatever you choose to put your whole heart into, you will succeed in."

Olivia played with the hairs at the nap of Rafael's neck as she swayed with him.  It still got to her how effortlessly he believed in her, believed she could do anything she wanted.  Even if she didn't want to leave SVU, knowing that, knowing his confidence in her abilities, in her effectiveness as a cop meant more to her than her voice would allow her to say at the moment.  She hadn't experienced that kind of positive reinforcement in a long time.  Olivia settled for tucking her face against Rafael’s and breathed deep when she felt him press a kiss against her temple, knowing that he understood without her having to say a single word.

"I think someone's been waiting to punch your dance card," Rafael murmured quietly once the song ended, lulling Olivia out of the comforting warmth his arms provided.   She knew without having to ask who it was.  Maybe twenty years ago Elliot would've been brash enough to cut in, but not now.  And if she was being honest, she wouldn't mind a turn around the floor with him, either.

"Do you mind?" she asked softly, unsurprised when Rafael shook his head.  Neither of them had time for jealousy anymore, not at their age, and Rafael knew that Olivia was with him because she wanted to be, and for no other reason.  If she wanted Elliot, she would be with him.

But she wasn't because she didn’t.

"I do not," Rafael lifted her hand still tucked against his chest to his lips, kissing her fingers gently.  "Call him over.  I'll grab a drink and go harass Carisi."

Olivia couldn't help but laugh as she stepped away.  "That's what you've missed the most, isn't it?  The fact that you don't get to heckle him the way you used to."

"Maybe, but I still get a chance every now and again when I see him in the halls at Hogan."

"He's probably more afraid of you now than he was when you were our ADA."

"I prefer terrified but afraid works, too," Rafael snickered, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder as he passed by. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

Olivia shook her head and watched him amble his way to the bar before looking around and catching Elliot's eyes.  She beckoned him over and watched as he made his way through the crowd before reaching her side.  "You got caught staring," she said by way of explanation.

"I was not staring, I was surveying," Elliot corrected.  "I didn't want to interrupt."

Olivia rolled her eyes.  "Yes, you did."

"Yeah, you're right, I did. I just exercised some self-control," Elliot confessed, completely unrepentant.  "But seeing as how I'm over here already-"

She shook her head.  Elliot Stabler was nothing if not incorrigible.  "Just remember I need my toes."

"Liv, relax, I'm not Carisi.  I can dance."  Elliot easily took her into a classic ballroom stance.

"Since when?"  

"Since Kathy made me learn when we lived in Italy," he said, bringing her along with him easily where and how he wanted to go.  After about thirty seconds, Olivia relaxed and swayed gently to the music with Elliot.

"I haven't heard from you much," she pointed out quietly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable but also not wanting to avoid the topic.  Olivia knew he was still hurting - still grieving Kathy's death even three years later, still mourning his lost chance at what he thought was a bit of happiness with Olivia herself.

"It's... you know, it's been busy," Elliot shrugged.  "More scumbags in the city than there are police to collar them."

Olivia nodded.  "As long as you're okay," she relented, not wanting to push the matter any further, certainly not here.

"I am," Elliot smiled softly.  "You uh... you look happy with him."

"I am," she mimicked, though her voice was still low.  "He's - he makes me very happy."

"Good," Elliot cleared his throat.  "That's - that's all I want for you, Liv."

"El, I know you-"

"Hey," he stopped moving, meeting her gaze.  "You're happy.  He's treating you well?  He's good with Noah?"

Olivia swallowed and nodded.  "Yeah."

"Then that's all that matters," Elliot nodded once, firmly.  "I'll be alright, Liv.  Don't worry about me.  You worry about you.  I just want you with someone who respects you, takes care of you - as much as you'll let a guy take care of you, anyways."

"Oh, he takes care of me," Olivia laughed, looking down at her gown.  "He uh, he insisted on buying me this for tonight."

"Well," Elliot spun her slowly.  "He's got good taste, at least."

*

So far, the night hadn't been the agony Rafael had expected.  He was there with Olivia, and being anywhere with her was always a positive, no matter what.  He'd been largely left alone by Jack McCoy, and really by most of the NYPD brass and EADA's at the gala that night.  But Rafael supposed that came with the territory of his new position.  No one wanted to be on Conviction Integrity's radar, especially the chief deputy's radar.  

It had been a perfect fit, really.  Rafael had wound up turning down the EADA position with Organized Crime a few weeks after he'd seen Olivia at the previous year's Five Boroughs Gala.  He had the itch to return to the prosecutorial side of things, true, but the idea of prosecuting RICO and mob cases did not appeal to him on any level.  Perhaps if he were a younger man in his thirties, or even early forties, when he'd been the in-your-face, brash ADA who simply turned over threats to the security division and continued to charge ahead with his cases, he'd have considered it.  But Rafael wasn't that man anymore, and he hadn't been, not for a long time.  The idea of becoming a target of the mafia, of the people he loved being dragged into any cases he'd work had closed the door on that career path.

Plus, and he wouldn't tell her this even if she likely already knew, Rafael had taken into consideration that he and Olivia were attempting to at least mend their friendship, with the hopes of something more on the horizon.  She had still been figuring out what she wanted but he was hoping for a future with her, and he didn't want to do anything that might threaten that, including taking the job that would've seen him handle cases for Stabler's task force.

Then Jack had come to him just before Christmas the previous year and told him that there was an opening in Conviction Integrity.  Rafael had taken a day to think on the offer before he told Jack he'd take the job.  He hadn't been ecstatic that the reason for the opening was that the previous chief deputy had suffered a heart attack and perhaps that was a heads up to him that he was getting older and needed to watch his stress levels and scotch consumption, but the idea of ensuring that the convictions the DA's office won were constitutionally sound and free of any conflicts or mistakes or worse, maliciousness or incompetence, stroked a sweet spot in Rafael that he'd been trying to find in defense work but hadn't, not really.  With a few cases, sure, but certainly nothing long term.

He'd started that January and hadn't looked back.  

Six years ago, he'd been in a downward spiral, feeling lower than he'd ever been, with no idea of what he was going to do for a career or where he was going to go, if he was even going to stay in Manhattan.  He certainly hadn't believed he was worthy of having friendships - his own mother had barely spoken a word to him after what he'd done, and if the woman who'd birthed him didn't want anything to do with him, why would anyone else?

Now, here he was, back with the DA's office, integrating with old friends and colleagues, his relationship with his mother was back on track, he was dating Olivia, spending time with Noah... life was good.

Rafael leaned against the bar and sipped his scotch, looking out over the dance floor and the expanse of people in the room, and his gaze fell on Olivia dancing with Stabler.  He was thankful that he wasn't prone to jealousy, and that he had nothing to worry about where Olivia was concerned; if he didn't trust her, he wouldn't be with her, and Rafael Barba entrusted Olivia Benson implicitly.  She was with him because she wanted to be, but her heart was big enough that she wanted to at least try and soothe whatever hurt Stabler still felt for the choice she'd made, for the friendship and partnership they'd had.

Rafael loved her for that, really.

He scooted aside as a young woman stepped up to the bar, and Rafael recognized her as the OC's tech genius.  He pretended not to notice as Jet gave him a surreptitious glance while waiting for her drink, elbows on the bar and leaning over to press herself as close to the ledge as possible.  Once her drink - a glass of red - appeared, she picked it up and took a sip.  Rafael didn't miss her wince.

"Not to your liking?" he asked, getting a look that was somewhere between annoyance that he'd guessed correctly and irritation that someone she didn't know was speaking to her.

"It's sweet," she grimaced, "like soda."  Her voice was dull and clipped, dark eyes staying on the glass and barely acknowledging him, but Rafael couldn't figure out if it was because of him specifically or because of something else.  She couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old, still discovering her pallet, her tastes, what she liked and disliked.  Rafael had gotten stuck on scotch early in his Harvard years thanks to Rita gifting him with a bottle of Glenlivet for Christmas during their first year of law school.

"You need something drier then," he hummed, turning around to face the bar and the available options.  He saw an open bottle of red Zinfandel and immediately pegged that as the culprit.  He wasn't a wine drinker by any means but knowing Olivia for as long as he had, he'd become somewhat of a connoisseur of at least the reds she preferred.  He held up a hand to signal one of the bartenders over and nodded towards Jet's glass.

"I think she might like something more along the Merlot range," he mused, quickly spotting a bottle that would serve and pointing it out to the bartender.  "And I'll take a second one of these when you have a moment."  He pushed his rocks glass inward to the bar and turned to lean his side against its edge once again.  "Captain Benson has mentioned you a few times.  She says you're unmatched when it comes to cyber ops."

"I highly doubt that Captain Benson used the term 'cyber ops'," Jet barely kept herself from rolling her eyes as she waited for her wine, pushing the first glass away from her.

"She didn't.  That's my term for it.  Covers everything technology related quite well."

"Well, computers are easier to deal with than people," she responded.  "They do what you tell them to do, no chance of being lied to or screwed over, and you don't have to clean up after them."

"You have a very healthy view of the human race," Rafael chuckled.

"Where's the lie?" Jet shot back, moving her hands so the bartender could set her new glass of wine in front of her, a fresh scotch following behind and presented to Rafael just a few moments after.  He watched her take the glass in hand and sniff it before taking a small sip and nodding after a moment.  "Better."  She cast a sidelong glance his way.  "Thanks," she muttered after a moment.

Rafael waved it off.  "I imagine this is the last place you'd want to be.  The least I can do is point you in the direction of a drink you'll actually enjoy."

"There's hardly anyone in this room I don't loathe right now," Jet grumbled.

Rafael chuckled.  "I know the feeling."

Olivia was still dancing with Elliot and Rafael wasn't going to rush her, so he stayed at the bar and made small talk with Jet when she ventured to say something.  He'd cottoned on fairly quickly that the gala was, indeed, at the bottom of her list of 'Places Jet Wanted to Be', and it didn't take him long at all to figure out that her IQ was a hundred points higher than almost anyone else in the room.  She was bored, societal events didn't impress her, and Rafael had a feeling it was more so because she'd been over-exposed to them already at her young age than anything else.

There was another comfortable lull in the conversation and Rafael was looking back over again at Olivia, once more admiring her and how relaxed she looked when he heard Jet mumble something that sounded an awful lot like, ‘not interested, get lost.’  

He looked over at her and concluded that his auditory skills hadn't given out on him quite yet.  Jet had merely looked uninterested before; now, she looked highly irritated, and the reason why was draped over the bar on her other side.  Rafael could see an offensive hand belonging to a young man, probably around the same age as Jet, maybe a little older, waving around just behind her.

"You haven't even heard what I have to say," the guy said, and he was clearly over his limit.

Jet rolled her eyes.  "I promise you; anything you have to say, I couldn't possibly be less interested in hearing."  Rafael snickered into his glass, but any humor he derived from Jet's reaction evaporated when the guy's hand connected with her skin, and that would not do; he immediately set his glass down.

Slowly - he didn't think he'd spook Jet, but he also didn't want to take the chance - Rafael inched a hand forward and gently tugged her towards and behind him, placing himself between her and Mr. Budweiser.  The guy blinked, looked confused, then, as Rafael was expecting, got angry.

"What the hell, dude?  You her dad or something?"

"Thankfully for you the answer to that question is no," Rafael drawled.  "Look, you've had a little too much to drink.  The lady would like to be left alone.  Why don't you walk away, go find your friends, or let me call one of them over here for you?"

The guy wasn't a sloppy drunk at least - he wasn't falling all over himself, and he wasn't even slurring his words all that much, but Rafael could see the bloodshot, glassy gaze in his eyes and with how he held himself, Rafael doubted that it was the man's first time being drunk in public.  Or forcing himself on uninterested women, a voice in the back of his head whispered.  He'd seen it enough when he'd been SVU's ADA to recognize a predator-in-the-making when he saw one.  

Case in point.

"Man, she's got a mouth of her own; if she wants me to leave her alone, she'll tell me."

Both Rafael and Jet chorused at the same time that she had, and that only seemed to make their inebriated annoyance more ill-tempered.  Drunky held a hand up, took a step forward, and then Rafael was watching the guy being slammed chest first onto the surface of the bar, with a very, very angry Elliot Stabler wrenching Mr. Budweiser's arms behind his back, Olivia following behind at a more leisurely pace.

"Dad's here," Rafael heard Jet announce cooly, and for the first time since he’d started talking to her that night, Rafael noticed that she now looked mildly entertained.

"What the fuck!?" The guy was yelling as Olivia reached for Elliot's pocket and deftly pulled a pair of cuffs from its confines, seamlessly handing them to her former partner who slapped the bracelets on the drunk's wrists.  "This is fucking harassment!  Assault!"

"That does about sum up what I'd charge you with," Rafael mused, slipping his hands into his pockets and watching with undisguised amusement as Elliot hauled the guy off the bar and out of the gala to the waiting arms of the on-duty NYPD officers at the entrance.

"He saw the guy getting handsy with Jet and took off like a bolt," Olivia explained to Rafael.  "He's very protective of her."  She glanced over at Jet, giving her a once over.  "If you want to press charges, let us know.  Technically he assaulted a police officer when he put his hands on you."

Jet only nodded and reached for the wine Rafael had gotten her earlier that she'd hardly had the chance to enjoy.  "I told Sarge nothing good ever happens at these things."  

While they waited for Elliot to return, Ayanna picked that moment to walk up.  Jet glowered at her the entire time as Olivia explained what had happened, and Rafael could tell that Jet was barely containing her 'told-you-so' rant, settling instead for sipping the wine from her glass and giving her commanding officer a not-so-subtle look that conveyed everything she wanted to say.  By the time Elliot rolled back up, Ayanna was thanking Rafael for stepping in and Olivia was enjoying a glass of her own wine.

"What happened with Mr. Touchy-Feely?" Jet asked.

"Oh, he's gonna spend the evening in the tombs," Elliot shrugged.  "He'll have the rest of the night and tomorrow morning to question his life choices."

Rafael chuckled into his scotch.  "You arrested him?"

"Assault on a LEO, harassment, drunk in public," Stabler rattled off the charges he'd instructed the uniformed officers to book the guy with.  

"Merry Christmas to him," Rafael muttered.  Served the guy right, honestly.  "Meanwhile, they'll ROR him tomorrow morning and I'll find out which junior DA got stuck with his case."  

"Yeah, thanks," Elliot ordered a drink from the bar and leaned against it.  Ayanna and Jet had drifted off to the side, Rafael noticing that Jet was looking a little more forgiving now that she actually had tangible evidence of the results parties like these could bring.  She was no worse for the wear - she wasn't hurt or scarred or anything like that - she was just aggravated.

"Deeply, depressingly aggravated," he heard her say.  Rafael laughed into his drink again.  He liked her.

Olivia, much to her chagrin if the placid glint behind her eyes was any indication, had gotten sucked into a conversation with a legislator Rafael knew for a fact she couldn't stand.  Indeed, Rafael had no idea what the woman could possibly be saying that could make her think Olivia would want to spend more than two seconds in her presence, but Olivia Benson was at the gala tonight with the understanding that she was representing the NYPD, and so she suffered silently.

"Lay you odds Liv's plotting escape routes right now," Stabler muttered.  At some point he'd gotten his drink and had turned around to see where everyone from their little group had ended up.

"I will see your escape routes and raise you plausible deniability for causing substantial injury to that woman," Rafael drawled.  

"Nah, she doesn't have that look on her face ye-" Stabler squinted. "Okay, never mind, yes she does."

"Usually it takes at least a few minutes to come out, but with someone advocating with every news interview that the NYPD should be disbanded and defunded while parading around events like this with private security paid for from her campaign funds..." Rafael shrugged, watching and reminding himself that later he would have to tell Liv exactly how entertaining he found it when she clearly wanted nothing more than to throttle stupidity with her bare hands.

"Thanks for that, back there," Elliot muttered quietly.  "With Jet.  Looking out for her."

"Some may consider it an old-fashioned notion, but I will forever be of the opinion that no man should stand idly by while a woman is clearly being accosted," Rafael shrugged.  "Though strictly speaking, maybe I should be thanking you."  At Elliot's questioning gaze, Rafael chuckled.  "I've always fought with my words, not my fists.  The guy would've demolished me had you not chosen that moment to check him into the bar."

"Yeah, well..." Stabler sighed.  "Liv would've killed me if he'd landed a hand on you and I hadn't done something, so."

They drank quietly for a little while, choosing to people watch.  Rafael winced when he saw Carisi get stuck with Jack McCoy.  The latter had his hand on Carisi's shoulder in that way he'd often done with Rafael when Rafael had been McCoy's top ADA.  He knew what that easy grin and forward leaning posture meant; Jack saw something in Carisi, most likely someone who could help him get reelected with a high conviction rate and the thorough, detailed work ethic that Carisi was becoming known for around Hogan and in judges' chambers.  It did Rafael's heart some good seeing how far Dominick had come, but he couldn't help the concern that crept in when he witnessed moments like this.

It was probably time for Rafael to have a sit down with Carisi and explain where the road in the journey that was his career as a lawyer could possibly go from here, and all the wonderful opportunities and downright awful experiences that would come with it if he chose the path McCoy wanted him to walk.

"She uh... she seems happy with you."

It took Rafael a few seconds to register that Stabler was talking to him, about Liv of all people, and he stole another look over at her to see that she was now talking to someone she actually liked - one of her compatriots from Major Crimes - before answering.

"I'm glad," Rafael cleared his throat.  "There are times I don't understand how or why she can be content with me, but I'm grateful every day that she decides to stay." 

"She's safe with me," Rafael heard himself say, suddenly.  He had no clue he was going to declare that but for some reason, he wanted Stabler to know, felt that he deserved to hear that reassurance.  "I know... well.  I know I was most definitely not your first choice for her."

Stabler snorted.  "Definitely not," he muttered into his beer.

"And I know that we both, you and I, love her very much," Rafael continued, ignoring Stabler's comment.  "And if she had gone the other way, I would want to know that she was safe with you.  Happy, yes, but safe, too."

Stabler pierced him with a look over his drink that Rafael did not drop away from.  He'd stared down murderers and rapists and terrorists in his law career.  He might not look it, but Rafael was a hard guy to intimidate, and he knew Stabler would take it as a sign of weakness if Rafael looked away now.

"I promise you, she's safe with me," Rafael reiterated needing for whatever reason for Stabler to understand that; probably because if their positions were reversed, like Rafael had said, he would want to be assured of the same.  "I'll do everything I can to keep her that way."

Stabler's face was tight, pinched, but he offered a nod of acknowledgement at Rafael's words, finished his drink, and walked away.  Rafael watched him go, only being aware of Olivia sidling up to him when she gently tugged his hand with her fingers.

"Everything okay?" she asked softly.

"Mhm," Rafael dropped a kiss onto her shoulder.  "Just... developing a gentleman's understanding."

"About?"

Rafael hesitated for a few moments, but Olivia's steady gaze on him prompted him to answer.  "If you'd decided to give things a try with him, I told him I would want to know that you're okay, that you're safe with him.  That it would... help, a little, knowing that.  Happy, too, but you can be happy and not realize you're not safe, so... I wanted him to know that you were."

He watched Olivia's eyes blink rapidly, and he reached towards the bar for a cocktail napkin to hand over to her if she needed it.  

"I am," she murmured once she'd gotten herself together.  "I know I'm safe with you, Rafa.  Thank you, for doing that," she added, nodding after Elliot in the direction he'd walked off in.  "I know things are tense between the two of you; you didn't have to give him that."

"Maybe not, but," Rafael shrugged.  He'd wanted to, was the odd thing.  For all their history and all the pain she'd felt when Stabler had left her the way he did, Olivia still wanted him in her life, still wanted to nurture the friendship and partnership she'd once had with Stabler, and if that was what she wanted, Rafael knew his attempts at making peace with Elliot would go a long way into her being able to do that.  And maybe, just maybe he was exorcising some of his own guilt at having defended Wheatley, at playing such a painful role in Stabler's life, and, at one point, Olivia's too.

"You know what you should do right now?" Olivia's voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he smiled.

"What?"

"Ask me to dance."

"I have to ask for that?" Rafael chuckled and took her hand in his, kissing the knuckles there gently at her laughed 'no', but he asked anyway, eyes filled with love and warmth when she pulled him back towards the dance floor in answer and tucked herself against him, allowing his arms to wind about her waist.

"Don't forget, I booked the hotel room," she murmured against his shoulder after a few moments of swaying.

"You gonna ask me up again?"

"Depends," Olivia smirked.  "Will you say yes this time?"

"Every time," Rafael pressed a kiss to her temple.  "Siempre."