Work Text:
The first time Rafael brought up the topic of kids to Rita, they had been together for a year and a half, which felt like just enough time to be sure that neither their personalities in close proximity, nor their multitude of law-related disagreements would be able to implode their relationship in the near future.
“Have you ever thought about having children?” he asked her, as they sat together on their opposing desks, each in front of their own stack of work they had brought home.
“I think everyone’s thought about having children at some time in their life,” Rita said, without looking up.
“What a lawyer answer to give.”
“That’s what you get for posing a waffling question. Get to the point, Mr. Barba,” she shot back, with a brief smirk.
Rafael rolled his eyes. “Rephrase,” he said. “Would you like to have children?”
Looking at him over her laptop, Rita shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s never been a great concern for me, but one or two, maybe. However, I don’t like the idea of taking it easy for nine months, and a pregnancy at forty-seven can be pretty dangerous. So at this point? It’s unlikely.”
“I’ve thought about that last part, too,” Rafael said, with a nod of his head. When he himself had considered having a family over the last few months, even just the slight risk that he might exchange Rita’s life for that of a child was enough to give him pause; he loved her too much for that. “But what about adoption?”
“I’m sure Child Services will be happy to provide you with a child after your storied history in court together,” Rita said, bemused.
Rafael pursed his lips.
“Talking of precision in wording, you could just say ‘I don’t want children’.”
“I couldn’t because I wouldn’t mean it,” Rita said. “I just didn’t expect it from you. Let me think on it.”
“Recess?”
“Exactly.” She nodded her head. “Do you want to order dinner? I’m not going to be finished early enough to make anything.”
“Neither will I,” Rafael said, reaching for the phone.
Until midnight, both of them stayed at their desks, each working their way through both digital and real sheaves of paper; but sometimes, when Rafael raised his gaze, he saw Rita glancing out the window, looking miles away.
-
Five days later, Rafael was just making coffee for breakfast when Rita looked up from her newspaper.
“I think we should adopt a child,” she said, as if she had just decided it this very moment.
“Really? I don’t know, now that I think about it, its mother would be a lawyer. How would I instil any ethics into the kid?” Rafael asked, smiling easily through a moment of surprise. He had not expected his heart to make the leap it did, but it would not have been the first time that he had subconsciously suppressed hope for something to forego disappointment. The first time Rita and him had been on a date, he had only really allowed happiness to rush in when she had leaned in to kiss him goodbye.
“I’m sure your constant, unrealistic, annoying idealism would mitigate it,” Rita said.
“Really, the SVU should hear you talk about me. I’m the heartless one to them.” With two mugs of coffee in hand, he sat down at the table with her. “What changed your mind?”
“Nothing but the fact that I think we would make passable parents and would enjoy it.” She stirred sugar into her coffee. “But right now, we both work eighty hours a week. At least one of us would have to cut back or we’ll never see the child and then we might as well not have one at all.”
Looking at her over his faded Harvard mug, Rafael smiled lopsidedly.
“Why do I have a feeling you’re about to remind me that you make a lot more money than me?” he asked.
“Less than I used to, with your insistence on me taking primarily cases of defendants whose innocence I believe in – but still substantially more than a lowly A.D.A., yes,” she said, obviously pleased he had picked up on her train of thought.
“Thank you, I got the hint.”
Pausing, Rafael considered it. He supposed he would want to actually see his child if he had one, and he had put his career at risk for countless cases before. Ambitious as he was, there had always been more important things in his life than being the very top dog. It was new that his family would be one of them, but it was hardly an unworthy competitor for his attention. Besides, he could still climb the career ladder when he was in his fifties; the time in which he was still young enough to sensibly have a child would soon be over. He hadn’t expected to be tasked to be the primary caretaker (although now that he thought about it, he really should have) and the thought was definitely intimidating, but not enough to deter him.
“I could ask the D.A. to reduce my number of cases as long as the child is younger,” he said, slowly. “But if you sleep with your twenty year old secretary and leave me to be a single dad, don’t think I won’t take you to court for as much child support as I can possibly wring out of you.”
Rita grinned. “I’d expect nothing less.”
“It’s a deal, then.”
-
“I don’t know how good I’ll do with a baby,” Rafael confessed, as they sat next to each other on the couch. Rafael had put his feet up on the table and thumbed through the leaflet with the Metropolitan Opera’s latest program, while Rita was painting her nails next to him, neither of them paying much attention to the political debate the TV was transmitting into their living room.
“How so? Are you afraid you’ll be puked on? That is a risk you’ll have to take.”
“No, bodily functions don’t generally scare me. It’s more the fact that I won’t be able to reason with that little human.”
The idea of having a child at some point had always appeared vaguely as part of his life to him, but when he imagined it, said child was usually at least five years old and could be talked to. Now that they had actually started looking at adoption agencies, however, and had already decided that they would like to raise a child from infancy, reality was looming.
“From my experience, that applies to most adults, too, so you should be fine.”
Rafael chuckled and put the leaflet down.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Whatever you do, you probably won’t fare worse than me,” Rita added. “Motherliness was never one of my prime virtues.”
“It’s not a requirement, really, as long as you are nice to the kid. Sometimes… I’m afraid I’ll default to the only paternal example I know,” Rafael admitted, after a short pause.
Rita sat a little straighter.
“Don’t be stupid, Rafael. You are nothing like your father.”
“You didn’t even know my dad,” Rafael retorted.
“I know what you told me of him when you were drunk on spring break. I’m not afraid of that,” she said. “And besides, my mother thinks I’m already ruining the baby by not staying at home with it, so you’ll have to work hard if you want to be the parent that has our kid running to therapy in twenty years.”
Rafael raised a brow.
“I like your mother,” he said, “but considering she married your father right out of high school and has never worked, it’s no surprise your priorities are a bit alien to her. Don’t let her talk you into anything.”
“I never let anyone talk me into anything. You know that, you’ve been up against me in court,” Rita said, but he thought she had wavered there, for just a moment. Rafael didn’t comment. He didn’t like people picking at his own insecurities, either, so he would do Rita the same favour. It was not unnatural that people you loved could shake even your firmest convictions.
“You’ll be a good mother,” he said, instead.
“Yes. Eventually.” She nodded her head and blew on her fingernails. “We will both learn. Worse people than us have raised good kids.”
It had always appealed to Rafael that Rita had yet to meet a challenge which she didn’t think she could take head-on. Though he had a healthy ego as well, he had never had the greatest trust in himself in true, deep interpersonal relationships. He was too caustic to be really very warm or loving most of the time, and often doubtful whether he was suited to be anything like a good son, boyfriend, or father. Rita, on the other hand, believed in herself enough that, even if she thought that she wouldn’t be a stellar mother right now, she had faith that she could be in the future.
“Even worse people than us?” Rafael said, with a lazy smirk. “Ask the right people working in the New York judicial system, and you’ll hear that’s not even possible.”
-
“So when is this adoption going to take place?”
Seated in an armchair on the opposite side of the desk, Liv looked at him in wide-eyed surprise.
“Probably on the fourth next month. Don’t worry, I’m not dropping any cases and I’ll continue to do as much as I can with the SVU.” Rafael leaned back in his chair. “It should work if I cut down on work I do outside this department, and A.D.A. Feller will pick up my slack with your unit. She’s good – young but talented, and it hasn’t gone to her head yet, either.”
“You must’ve been planning this for a while. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“We really haven’t been,” Rafael said, shaking his head. “It’s only been a couple of months, but Rita used to work at a firm with a lawyer who now oversees the work of a Mexican-American adoption agency.”
The corner of Benson’s mouth twitched even as she frowned. “Adopting via connections sounds a little shady.”
“Well, when she told me about it, I asked her to please not buy me a baby,” Rafael answered, his brows raised. “She said alright, but only if the other way doesn’t take too long. I think she was joking.” He cocked his head and turned his fountain pen between his fingers. “Anyway, it‘s legal, yes. Not completely fair because I assume we got severely bumped up the waiting list because of her friend’s glowing recommendation, but the organisation is legitimate.”
“Did you get to meet the baby yet?”
“No, she’s still in Mexico. Only pictures so far. I’d show them to you, but I feel like I should wait to officially be a father before I start bothering people with documentation of my offspring.”
Liv inclined her head, smiling even though there was a bit of shock still mixed into her expression.
“I just didn’t expect you to take a step back at work for a child,” she said. “Rita is her own boss. Wouldn’t it be easier for her to take fewer cases?”
“Technically, yes, but because she’s who she is, no,” Rafael said, bemused. “For me, it’s an interesting challenge, in a way. Rita would go stir-crazy if she had to cut back on work.”
“So you’ll actually be doing playdates?” Liv asked, incredulously.
“If I can’t shift them onto a nanny… Rita told me, and I quote, ‘I will come to every ball game and ballet recital, but I am not going to discuss the contents of my child’s lunchbox with soccer moms and gluten-free dads from the suburbs.’”
“And you’re okay with that?”
Well, he was afraid and he had read seven and a half books on infant rearing in the last couple of months in some vain attempt to prepare for something he hadn’t exactly from the ground-up been build for, but he was still looking forward to it.
“Let’s put it this way: I’m not enthused I’m putting my career on hold, but if Rita had been wildly happy to go part-time to raise a baby, then I would probably be wondering who she is and where she’s hiding my girlfriend’s body.”
“You’re going to make an interesting family,” Liv said, and managed to not make ‘interesting’ sound like a synonym for ‘bad’, for which Rafael was thankful.
-
In a way, a newborn was not too challenging, Rafael thought as he looked down at their daughter Clara. She didn’t have the strength to wind herself out of his arms yet, so his fear of dropping her on her head was now a little mitigated. Also, so far, the task of existing had tired her out to the point that she was still peacefully resting in his arms by the time that he sat down on the couch at home after they had returned from the adoption agency. Rita joined him after she had pulled off her heels, folding one leg under herself as she seated herself next to him, looking at the baby in his arms.
“This was a good idea,” she said.
“Of course, it was mine.”
“So you see where my trepidation comes from?”
Rafael raised a brow.
“You shouldn’t be so sarcastic. Do you realise you’ll never have to have the grandchildren conversation with your parents ever again?”
“That’s the end of a twenty-five year old, deeply annoying tradition,” Rita allowed. “By the way, I told my mother adopting was your idea, and you are now literally a saint to her.”
“I never quite understood that. Your brother has two children, should that not have alleviated your burden?”
“There can never be enough grand-children and she was this close to accepting I wouldn’t ever deliver her any.” Rita ran her hand over the little girl’s short, black curls. “If I weren’t so happy, I’d be disappointed I lost that fight.”
“You still aren’t at home with a baby bottle in hand, so there will be plenty of things left to squabble over for Sunday dinners.”
Clara made a brief gurgling noise and, hastily, Rafael checked the position of his arm again to make sure he did not hold her head at the wrong angle. Rita noticed his gaze.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just think that trials will seem like holidays to me in comparison soon enough. At least there, I know what I’m doing.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” with a compassionate smile, Rita leaned in to kiss his cheek, “you knowing what you do in court is highly debatable.”
“I’m going to make you change the diapers tonight,” Rafael decided.
*
Send me a selfie with our daughter. Presentable. I need to show you off to a bunch of Democratic party members I’m meeting for lunch and forgot I haven’t pulled my picture folder onto the new phone.
All my selfies are presentable.
The picture Rafael had attached to the brief note was indeed exactly what Rita needed: her little daughter lying against his chest, one hand curled around his tie, while he smiled benevolently into the camera. Rafael did not enjoy the social side of politics much, but he had agreed to help her suck up to progressive left-wing politicians by playing up his role of house-husband if she needed him to – even though he still spent twenty-five hours per week at work, and Rita and him were at a playful standoff as to who was going to break down and propose first, meaning he was not yet her spouse.
Rita looked down at the picture of her sleeping daughter’s little face, her back covered by Rafael’s broad hand. She was dressed in a neat little white onesie, wearing a sky-blue cloth headband with a bow; with her and Rafael as her parents, it had been a given that she would be a fashionable baby.
Rita smiled. It was not much like her to be so sentimental, but Rafael had a way of getting into those corners and drawing it out of her – and that was despite the fact that he was not a much less guarded person himself. However, his soft smile and smart mouth could be a dangerous combination. She didn’t think she would have thought about raising a child with another man than him or she might’ve done it at some point in the almost fifty years of her life so far. Similarly, she hadn’t thought she would enjoy being around a baby, whose main functions were eating and sleeping, so much. She could admit to herself that not having to give up chunks of her body or her career did a lot to suppress any hidden grudges she might’ve developed, but she was also much more attached to the little girl than she’d thought was possible to become in just a few short weeks. Whenever she could finish early at the office to join Rafael and Clara at home, she was happy.
Her thumb hovered for a moment. She used this phone for work, so the lock-screen would stay some designer-made default of swirling dark shapes, but a personal touch wasn’t forbidden, was it? With a few flicks of her finger, she set the picture of Rafael and Clara as her background, smiling briefly at it once more before she turned to her laptop again, one hand still resting idly on her phone, from where the two of them were looking up at her.