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The courtroom smelled like old wood polish and nervous sweat. Up in the gallery, Jamie Tutuola-Munch sat straight-backed between her dads, legs swinging just shy of the floor because eight-year-olds don't quite reach. Fin had insisted she wear the little navy blazer "to look professional," and Munch had tucked one of his ancient conspiracy-theory pins onto the lapel, a tiny silver UFO, just to annoy Fin.
Down below, Rafael Barba was in full shark mode. Pinstripe suit sharp enough to cut glass, voice slicing through the defense attorney's objections like they were butter. Jamie watched, mesmerized. Uncle Rafa never raised his voice; he just got quieter, colder, until the whole room leaned in to hear him destroy someone.
During the morning recess, Jamie slipped out to the hallway fountain. A bailiff, nice older guy with a mustache, held the door for her.
She beamed up at him while sipping water. "My dads are married," she announced proudly, pointing back toward Fin and Munch, who were currently bickering in low voices about whether the defendant's tie was a Masonic signal. "And Uncle Rafa is my favorite uncle because he's gonna marry Uncle Sonny someday!"
The bailiff blinked. Then chuckled. "That so, kiddo?"
"Uh-huh. They look at each other like Dad and Pops do when they think I'm asleep." She shrugged, like it was obvious. "Everyone knows."
The bailiff nodded solemnly, already reaching for his radio out of habit. "Well, that's... real observant of you."
By lunch, the whisper had traveled from the bailiff to a court clerk, to a paralegal grabbing coffee in the hallway, to an ADA from another bureau who owed Liv a favor. By mid-afternoon, it had hit the SVU squad room like a low-grade fever.
Rollins was the first to crack. She leaned over Fin's desk, smirking. "So. Your kid's out here making marriage predictions now?"
Fin didn't even look up from his paperwork. "She gets it from Munch. Kid's got a sixth sense for bullshit and romance."
Munch adjusted his glasses. "Perceptive. Not delusional. There's a difference."
Liv walked in, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. "Barba's gonna hear about this before the day is out. You know how courthouse gossip moves."
Carisi, who had been quietly reviewing case notes at his temporary desk (he still came by even after moving to the DA's office), suddenly found the ceiling very interesting.
The elevator dinged just before five.
Rafael Barba stormed into the squad room like a man who'd just lost a motion he should've won. His tie was slightly loosened, the only sign he was rattled.
"Who," he said, voice dangerously calm, "started the rumor that I'm-"
Jamie, who'd been coloring at Liv's desk with Noah's old crayons, popped up like a jack-in-the-box. "Me!"
She launched herself at him, hugging his legs before he could react. "Because it's true!"
The room went still.
Barba froze, mid-stride, hands hovering awkwardly like he wasn't sure whether to pat her head or flee. His eyes darted, instinctively, helplessly, to Carisi.
Sonny was leaning against a desk, arms crossed, looking equal parts guilty and unbearably fond. His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile.
"She's..." Carisi started, then cleared his throat. "She's... perceptive."
A beat.
Barba exhaled through his nose, the sound somewhere between exasperation and surrender. He finally rested one hand lightly on Jamie's braids.
"Fine," he said softly. "Uncle Rafa it is." Then, quieter, almost to himself: "But no more matchmaking, pequeña. Deal?"
Jamie grinned, victorious. "Okay! But you have to bring Uncle Sonny to our next movie night. Pops said we can watch the one with the aliens again."
Fin barked a laugh, leaning back in his chair. "Y'all just got outed by an eight-year-old. Welcome to the family."
Munch raised his coffee mug in mock salute. "Solid work, kid. Shortest conspiracy unraveling in history."
Barba shot Sonny one long, unreadable look, half fond, half I-will-kill-you-later. Sonny just shrugged, small and sheepish, but his eyes were warm.
Liv shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Get outta here before I have to start charging you rent for squad-room therapy sessions."
Barba scooped Jamie up onto his hip like it was nothing, ignoring the way Carisi's gaze softened even more, and headed for the door.
"Movie night," he called over his shoulder. "Bring popcorn, Carisi. And don't be late."
Sonny pushed off the desk, already reaching for his coat. "Wouldn't dream of it."
As the elevator doors closed behind them, Fin nudged Munch. "Told you she'd figure it out before they did."
Munch smirked. "Perceptive. Like I said."
Jamie, safe between her favorite uncles, just grinned and waved at the squad room like she'd won the biggest case of all.