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Rafael stood in the bodega two blocks down from Sonny’s apartment and stared at their beer selection.
What are you doing? he asked himself.
Displaying those manners Abuelita always praised by not arriving empty-handed to dinner at a friend’s house, he answered.
But you hate beer, he pointed out to himself.
Which is why I’m picking some out that I might actually like rather than depending on whatever it is that Carisi has in his fridge, he thought before he rolled his eyes. What is wrong with you? You’re arguing with yourself in the booze section of a bodega. That’s not a good sign.
It was a terrible sign, actually; Rafael couldn’t deny that. No more than he could deny that warm anticipation had curled up like a sleepy cat somewhere in his mid-section ever since he’d received Carisi’s texted address.
If there was one thing Rafael truly despised in his job, it was the lies. So much of his time was spent wading through them, trying to find the slivers of truth in between the falsehoods, therefore, it stood to reason that he also hated lies in his life, too. Which meant that he’d spent the last week since spending a rather enjoyable fifteen minutes in Carisi’s company sorting through all of the various lies Rafael had been telling himself for some time now.
He’d managed to come to one, probably inevitable, conclusion:
In the last year, Rafael had turned the corner from simply liking Sonny Carisi to falling head over heels for the man.
And no, he wasn’t happy with the turn of phrase he’d picked. Teenagers in musicals fell ‘head over heels’, not someone who was on the wrong side of forty-five. But as usual, Rafael was proving to be the exception and not the rule and since it was the truth and he was the last person to deny the truth, so…there.
“Idiota,” he muttered as he grabbed a six pack of an IPA with a flavor that didn’t make him wince.
After paying, he walked towards Carisi’s address, shoving most of his nerves out of his mind and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. On a whim and in the interests of appearing at Carisi’s place in a relaxed state, he’d already removed his vest and tie, having shoved both in his briefcase (folded neatly, of course, he was smitten, not a heathen). He reached the address and admired the clean stoop and lobby, as well as the decent-sized elevator. On the way up to Carisi’s apartment, he mentally reviewed his to-do list for the weekend in a futile attempt to pretend that he had truly shoved those nerves out of his mind and not just to the side, which was closer to the truth.
Before he knew it, he stood in front of Carisi’s door. He breathed in and then knocked briskly.
Ten seconds passed before he heard footsteps approach and the door opened and yeah…
Head over god damn heels, Rafael thought as he took in Carisi’s welcoming grin and lived-in NYPD t-shirt and jeans.
“Counselor,” Carisi said gesturing him inside.
“Detective,” Rafael said entering. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thank you for bringing beer,” Carisi said as Rafael handed the six-pack over. “Make yourself at home.”
Carisi headed into the kitchen as Rafael took off his coat and breathed in the familiar smell of a good pizza.
“Am I too late?” Rafael asked hanging his coat up.
“What do you mean?” Carisi said as he popped the tops off two bottles.
“Pizza smells like it’s been here awhile,” Rafael said.
“Oh, no,” Carisi said handing him a bottle. “It’s a place that sells them fresh and ready to go, but not cooked. Gives you a chance to add stuff to them.”
“You added stuff?” Rafael repeated, because of course it wasn’t a generic pizza like anyone else would have ordered.
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Easy to do. Added more mozzarella and olives, a few bell peppers… It’s going to be pretty loaded down, hope that’s okay.”
“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Rafael said taking a drink as he looked around the apartment. After a few seconds of looking, he found himself, for a change, speechless.
It was a simple layout, not quite a studio, but an open space with only a large kitchen island separating the kitchen from the living room. The hardwood floors looked original to the building and were polished to a soft amber. The sofa looked wonderfully lived in and the bookcases were built into the walls. The bright orange of the setting sun shone through two tall windows and onto a massive, leafy plant that was so tall it brushed the ceiling.
“Carisi,” Rafael said eventually. “Your place is… How can you afford this?”
Carisi snorted. “Yeah, everyone says that. My dad’s friend, Carl, got real into the whole flipping property a few years back. I helped out when I could back on the island. By the time I got my first job in Homicide, Carl had moved to the city and he found this place and a few others.” Carisi shrugged as he checked on the pizza in the oven. “I did most of the reno on this place. It was close to work and was a good place to come and, uh, zone out, I guess.”
Rafael studied him, hearing all the things Carisi hadn’t said, and replied, “It’s gorgeous.”
Carisi grinned a little. “Thanks. And I can afford it because Carl gave me his family and friends discount, along with the promise to help him out at least once a month. God, you should see his new place. It’s a frickin’ warehouse and he’s got this great plan to just strip it down. He’s driving his site manager crazy.”
Rafael watched Carisi talk about things like lathes and sanders and something in his chest eased.
This, he thought absently as he sipped his beer. This I like.
“Sorry,” Carisi said after awhile, shaking his head. “My mouth ran off without me.”
“Right. First rule of prosecution? Never apologize for speaking your mind,” Rafael said. “And yes, I’ll deny that I ever said this, but it’s usually better to say something than not. If you ever want to practice law, don’t ever hold back.”
Carisi’s eyes widened. “Mind if I write that down? And, you know, date it and get you to sign it? Maybe even find a notary who’s open late?”
“Don’t you dare,” Rafael said chuckling.
“I don’t know, counselor,” Carisi said pulling a gorgeous looking pizza out of the oven. “You said once to document everything.”
“I should have never let you shadow me,” Rafael said shaking his head. “Your mind’s a steel trap, isn’t it?”
“Only for the important stuff,” Carisi said offhand in a way that made Rafael preen inwardly. “And, you know, Mets stats.”
“And home renovation,” Rafael said looking around at the clean lines of Carisi’s apartment.
“Yeah, well, half the time that was more for therapeutic value than actually learning anything,” Carisi said as he pulled a wicked-looking pizza cutter out of a drawer.
“I hear Homicide can be challenging,” Rafael said.
Carisi nodded. “Yeah, challenging’s a good word for it. Fucking awful’s another one. The reno helped get me out of my head, you know? Remind me that hands can be used to build things instead of tearing them apart.”
He looked over his shoulder at Rafael with a look that was similar to the one from the other night. This look said that Carisi was more than aware of the cliché that he’d just thrown out there, but it was the truth, so what was else was he going to do? Lie?
“You ever make anything, counselor?” Carisi asked, breaking the moment and turning back to the pizza.
“Rafael.”
Carisi looked over his shoulder in surprise. “What?”
“I’m drinking an IPA without my tie and about to eat food with my hands, it’s Rafael,” he said. “And yes. Once.”
Carisi blinked. “Once?”
“In shop class, back in junior high,” Rafael said. “I made a more than slightly lopsided spice rack for my abuelita.”
“And I bet she used it for years,” Carisi said grinning.
“Despite my requests not to, yes, she did,” Rafael said, smiling at the memory and he could almost smell the cumin on her hands as she’d cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Yeah, my nonnas’ got their fair share of handmade stuff throughout the years,” Carisi said grabbing plates and serving up some slices.
“I bet yours never sent a spirit level off the charts, though,” Rafael countered, taking a plate from him.
“Well, no,” Carisi said. “But one year I went a little overboard with the staining. Let me tell you, that stuff takes forever to get out.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Rafael said and then waited for Carisi to pick where they ate. He wasn’t surprised when he headed straight for the couch, his feet automatically going up to rest on the coffee table. Carisi slid a wooden (and probably handmade) coaster Rafael’s way and grabbed the remote.
“Ready for this?” Carisi asked, clearly giving Rafael an out.
With a smirk, Rafael plonked his bottle down on the coaster, sat down on the couch, propped his feet up like Sonny on the coffee table and said, “Are you?”
Fucking hell, what have I done? Sonny thought as he turned on the TV. I’m dead. I’m sitting here, eating pizza, but I’m dead.
“Bring it on, coun- Rafael,” Sonny said as he pressed watch movie on The Pelican Brief.
They watched the opening credits in silence and ate their slices. It was one of Sonny’s favorites, but he couldn’t appreciate the sharpness of the flavors, so focused as he was on every movement Rafael made.
“This is excellent, I have to say,” Rafael said, pulling a long string of mozzarella off his plate.
“Yeah, they’re one of my favorite places,” Sonny said. “They like to mess around with flavors. I almost got the pulled pork one.”
Rafael paused and said, “Next time.”
Holy fucking shit, thought Sonny, but he didn’t have much time to think anything more complex than that because Rafael was already commenting again.
“I forgot Stanley Tucci is in this,” he said.
Sonny blinked at the screen and grinned. “Oh, yeah. Gotta love the Tucc.”
“I’m sorry, the what?” Rafael said around a mouthful of pizza.
“What? You don’t know about the Tucci Gang? It’s from a Saturday Night Live skit,” Sonny said grinning. “Pete Davidson’s in it?”
“Who’s Pete Davidson?”
“Seriously?” Sonny looked over at Rafael.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I watched Saturday Night Live?” Rafael said. “I think it was during the Clinton era.”
“You’re missing out, they’ve gotten better,” Sonny said. “And Pete Davidson’s a fellow Staten Island boy. I gotta support the ones who manage to get out, you know.”
“Dear Lord, another one got off the island?” Rafael said mildly. “Heaven help us, they’ve learned how to use the ferry.”
Sonny kicked his ankle and Rafael chuckled.
“Look who’s talking,” Sonny said. “How’d you get over the Hudson?”
Rafael just grinned and Sonny shook his head as they went back to watching the movie.
A scene where Julia Roberts debated privacy laws with her professor started and Sonny nodded along with it.
“You know, none of my profs looked anything like Sam Shepherd,” Sonny said. “I feel a little cheated.”
Rafael snorted as he set his empty plate on the coffee table and picked up his beer. “Mine all had distinguished beards and elbow patches. I wish they’d looked like Sam Shepherd.”
“The Right Stuff,” Sonny said. “Peak Sam Shepherd, right there.”
“Never saw it,” Rafael said.
Sonny’s brain short-circuited and he grabbed the remote, pressing Pause. He turned to Rafael. “You never saw The Right Stuff?”
“Ah, no?” he replied, blinking in concern, bottle still pressed to his bottom lip.
“It’s the movie about the single greatest thing that America ever managed to do and you haven’t seen it?” Sony asked.
“I take it that it was deeply formative for you?” Rafael asked, mouth curved into a small smile.
“Well, yeah,” Sonny said. “We put a man on the moon. Nothing we’ve managed since has come close. Except for the Mars Rover, that was pretty epic.”
Rafael lowered his beer bottle and looked at him. “You honestly mean everything you say, don’t you?”
Sonny flushed and looked away. “Well, yeah, I guess. As if you didn’t already know that.”
“I did know it,” Rafael said. “I just...forget sometimes that a person can actually be genuine without wanting anything in return.”
“Who says I don’t want anything in return?” Sonny asked, forcing himself to look at Rafael.
“Oh? And what is it that you do want, Sonny?” Rafael asked, his voice low and even.
Oh, fuck, Sonny thought. Oh, fuck me. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what the fuck do I do now?
“I want.” Sonny swallowed and decided to just do what he always did and tell the god damn truth. “I want to know you. Any way you’ll let me. That’s what I want.”
Rafael studied him for a moment and then nodded. “I think I can do that.”
“Yeah?” Sonny asked.
“Yeah,” Rafael said, smiling.
“So, what’s your formative movie, then?” Sonny asked grabbing his beer.
“If I said Scarface would you believe me?” Rafael said.
Sonny choked on his beer. “No, I would not. Jesus.”
Rafael chuckled. “Well, I think I’d have to say… And no laughing, but Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights.”
Sonny stared and then blinked. “Oh. Uh, really?”
“I know it’s not exactly from my childhood. They managed to actually tell a pretty compelling story about what life was like during that era,” Rafael said solemnly. “Sure, it was trite and had aspects of the white savior trope, but it definitely had sincerity where it counted.”
Sonny nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure. That’s… That’s important, um...” He paused and narrowed his eyes. Rafael’s mouth twitched. “Oh, you dick.”
Rafael burst out laughing.
“Oh, my God,” Sonny said setting his beer down. “You asshole. I fucking believed you!”
“I’m sorry,” Rafael said in between trying to catch his breath. “I couldn’t help myself.”
Sonny laughed. “Holy shit, man. That was awesome. I mean, it was a dick move, but still awesome.”
Rafael held up his bottle in a salute and Sonny was so pleased that the man had actually laughed and joked with him, that he wasn’t totally disappointed in the lack of a real answer.
Sonny pressed play and they resumed watching the movie. The sun had all but disappeared and the only illumination in Sonny’s apartment came from the lights over the stove in the kitchen and the flickering blue of the TV screen.
When the movie reached the part where Julia and Denzel finally met in person, Rafael spoke. “Stand and Deliver.”
Sonny frowned and looked over at him. “Pardon?”
“Stand and Deliver,” Rafael said. “It came out in the late 80s. With Edward James Olmos and Lou Diamond Phillips. That was my formative film.”
Sonny absently pressed Pause as he replied, “I know that one. Think they showed it at school. Really? That’s your film?”
“Yeah, and I know,” Rafael said drily. “Possibly even more cliché than Dirty Dancing. The inspirational teacher who shows the poor Hispanic kids what they can achieve.” He shrugged. “Mi abuelita wanted to see it. We didn’t exactly have money for movies, but she saved up and made me go with her. I was bored to begin with, but after a little while it started to sink in.
“We left the theatre and mi abuelita said, ‘See, Rafi? See? It can be done. You can get out and you can learn. It will be hard and it will hurt, but you can do it.’” He chuckled and shook his head. “She was right. It was hard and it hurt, but I did it.” He looked over at Sonny. “So did you, for that matter. Working full time and going to law school at the same time isn’t something to ever discount.”
Sonny reminded himself to breathe and after he’d sucked in a breath, he asked, “Jesus Christ, man, what you are you even doing here?”
Rafael frowned. “You asked me here.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sonny said rubbing the back of his head. “And you came and I…have no idea why.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Tell me something, how much of you was in Simon? And not the part with the perps. I’m talking about the time with me.”
“With you?” Sonny asked, eyes widening, not entirely sure where Rafael was going with this particular line of questioning, but game to answer. “Oh, uh, a fair amount of it, actually.” He shrugged. “I didn’t say anything to you that I hadn’t wanted to say before. I wasn’t faking any of that, if that’s what you’re asking.” He looked away, staring at the frozen image of Denzel on the TV. “It was sort of like, wishful thinking, you know. Seeing if I could be that smooth, cultured guy. For you.” He winced. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Rafael said chuckling. “Because you don’t need to be that guy. Was he charming? Absolutely. But, and here’s the crucial part…” He leaned towards Sonny a fraction. “He wasn’t real.”
Sonny, once again, reminded himself to breathe. “He was sort of real.”
“Sure,” Rafael said. “The same kind of ‘sort of real’ that I give to juries. It was a small part of you and not the part that, well…” He hesitated and something like vulnerability flashed in his eyes. “’Simon’ isn’t the part of you that I find the most attractive.”
“Jesus,” Sonny said in a thin voice, and seriously, where had all the air gone? “I’m crazy about you, you know that, right?”
“It may or may not have come to my attention,” Rafael said. “But I come with some serious ‘buyer beware’ notices.”
“Such as?” Sonny asked, smirking a little.
“Well, as you astutely pointed out a few minutes ago, I’m a dick,” Rafael said smiling. “I’m argumentative to a fault, I have an appalling sense of humor-“
“The fact that you think you even have one is pretty damn funny,” Sonny pointed out.
“Now who’s the dick?” Rafael countered. “I have daddy issues and not the fun ones,” Sonny choked on his own tongue while Rafael grinned as he continued, “and I am incredibly self-absorbed to the point of tunnel vision.”
“You know, you haven’t said anything that I didn’t already know, although I have to admit, I may have wondered once or twice about the fun sort of ‘daddy issues’,” Sonny said.
Rafael closed his eyes and Sonny couldn’t help it, he reached out and lightly touched the back of Rafael’s hand with his fingertips. “Hey, I’m not trying to mock you here, I just wanted you to know that nothing you’re saying is sending me running for the hills, all right?”
The moment Sonny’s fingers had touched Rafael, his eyes had shot open and he stared down at Sonny’s hand.
“Oh, hey, sorry,” Sonny said drawing his hand back, but stopped when Rafael said softly, “I liked it when you touched me. The other night. I can’t remember the last time anyone touching me gave me chills.”
Sonny swallowed hard. “Good chills?”
Rafael looked up at him. “Very good chills.”
“Oh, fuck,” Sonny breathed. “You gotta know, I’m ten seconds away from kissing you.”
Rafael smiled. “Only ten? Try five, detective.”
“Jesus, you really are a dick,” Sonny muttered as he cupped the back of Rafael’s and pulled him to him.
What occurred next was messy, sloppy, and harsh in all the wrong places, and one of the best damn kisses Sonny ever had in his god damn life. It started off too hard and with too much teeth as they crashed together, but after a few moments, they both gave in in just the right way and the kiss turned sensual. Deep. Slow and drawn out and perfect.
“Closer,” Sonny murmured against Rafael’s lips. “Need you closer.”
“Fuck,” was Rafael’s response, as he levered himself up and straddled Sonny’s lap. “Close enough?”
“Never,” Sonny said as his hands spread across Rafael’s broad back, his fingers digging into the muscles under his shoulder blades.
Rafael groaned, hand to God, groaned into Sonny’s mouth and on instinct Sonny ground his hips up.
“God,” Sonny bit out. “God, you feel fucking fantastic.”
“I knew you’d be a talker,” Rafael said moving his mouth down to Sonny’s throat, his fingers teased along the hem of Sonny’s t-shirt. “Can I -?”
He’d barely got the words out and Sonny practically ripped his shirt off and threw it somewhere. The TV had shifted to screensaver mode at some point during the pause and the shifting images bathed Rafael’s features in soft blues and golds. Sonny realized that he was just gazing at the man in his lap at that point, and was startled to realize that said man in his lap was doing the same to him.
“Jesus, look at you,” Rafael said, his fingers lightly tracing Sonny’s collarbone and the lines of his pectorals. Pure lust filled Rafael’s eyes as they followed the path his fingers took.
Sonny felt surrounded by heat; the familiar warm give of his sofa against his back and the unfamiliar and searing blaze of Rafael in his lap, under his hands, his taste still lingering in Sonny’s mouth. He had to taste him again, so he surged up and caught Rafael’s mouth with his own. Suckled on his lower lip, scraping his teeth on the soft flesh oh so gently, while Rafael shifted and ground down on Sonny’s dick that strained against his jeans.
“Oh, fuck,” Sonny hissed into Rafael’s mouth. “Ow.”
“What?” Rafael moved back instantly, his hands falling to Sonny’s shoulders. “Did I--?”
“Not you,” Sonny said. “My god damn jeans. I didn’t plan on getting, uh,--”
“Hard?” Rafael supplied, smirking. “I think I may have a solution, if you’re amenable.”
“Oh, I’m amenable, counselor,” Sonny said hoping that whatever Rafael was thinking was the same thing he was thinking. “Incredibly amenable.”
“Good,” Rafael said, trailing his hands over Sonny’s bare chest to play with the top of his jeans.
“Take your shirt off first,” Sonny said abruptly. “I wanna see you.”
His lips may have a familiar, easy smirk, but Sonny saw the flash of pleased surprise in Rafael’s eyes and Sonny grinned in response as he repeated, “I wanna see you, Rafael.”
Smirk firmly in place, Rafael lifted his hands to his dress shirt and slowly undid each button. Sonny trembled with anticipation and when every button was undone, a sliver of skin just visible, Rafael paused to say, “Do it, Sonny. You wanted to see me. Take it off.”
“Jesus,” Sonny muttered, but did as he was told and slipped the shirt off tan shoulders, baring a gorgeous expanse of skin. He pressed his lips to the center of Rafael’s chest, murmuring nonsense as he kissed and licked his way across Rafael’s warm flesh, until they were both shivering and shuddering with want.
Sonny was pulled out of the sensation of tasting Rafael’s skin at the sudden release of pressure on his dick. Absently, he looked down at Rafael’s fingers undoing his jeans and he lifted his hips when Rafael tried to shove his jeans down. When Rafael’s hand curled around him, a low groan emerged from Sonny’s throat.
“Yeah,” Rafael said, his mouth moving against Sonny’s throat. “Let me hear you.”
“Oh, Christ,” Sonny hissed.
“Hmm, someone’s going to need to go to Mass this Sunday to atone for all this blasphemy, aren’t they?” Rafael chuckled as he sucked the lobe of Sonny’s ear into his wet, warm mouth.
“Worth it,” Sonny managed. “I’ll light a candle for you, counselor.”
“Oh? For what—oh, fuck, Sonny,” Rafael bit out as Sonny palmed him through his suit trousers. “Oh, God damn it. Stop teasing, you prick.”
Sonny grinned and somehow managed to get Rafael’s pants open and when he next groaned, he wasn’t sure if it was because of finally getting his hand on Rafael, or because Rafael had just done something magical with Sonny’s dick. In the end, he decided he didn’t care.
“Feel like a god damn teenager,” Sonny said into Rafael’s mouth.
“Tell me about it,” Rafael said as he smoothed his thumb over the top of Sonny’s cock. “But I want this. I want to see you fall apart. Just like this.”
“Back at you, Raf,” Sonny said swallowing hard. “Just, God, just kiss me.”
Rafael’s mouth covered his and the next several minutes were filled with nothing but the sounds of their heavy breaths and skin on skin until Sonny came with a groan that vibrated deep in his chest.
“Fuck,” Rafael breathed. “You go so pink. So pretty and so pink. Oh, fuck.”
Sonny twisted his hand and kept his eyes open as he watched Rafael come, his head bent forward as he shuddered.
“Son of a bitch,” Sonny said, letting his head fall back against his couch, and Rafael chuckled weakly, saying, “I concur,” before leaning forward to press his forehead to Sonny’s shoulder.
After taking a moment to reconcile what had just happened and coming to the conclusion that no, Sonny had not just had an intense guided dream, Sonny grinned.
“Knock it off,” Rafael said poking Sonny’s side.
“Knock what off?”
“You’re beaming like an idiot.”
“Well, yeah,” Sonny said. “I just got to third base on my couch with the hot guy I’ve been crazy over for-frickin-ever. The beaming’s just part of the deal.”
Rafael just shook his head, not lifting it from Sonny’s shoulder; in fact, he curled just that much closer to him.
“You know,” Sonny said eventually as he stared up at his ceiling, running his fingers up the length of Rafael’s spine. “I have a bed.”
“Good for you,” Rafael replied, his voice muffled from where his head rested on Sonny’s shoulder. “Let me guess, you built it with your bare hands using reclaimed timber?”
Sonny snorted. “No.” He hesitated. “Although, I did refinish it and added some extra slats in the base.”
“Of course you did.”
“It’s an oak sleigh bed. Very sturdy.”
Rafael lifted his head and looked Sonny in the eyes. “Is this your roundabout way of asking if we can move this to another venue so you can fuck me into the mattress?”
Sonny shivered, but his voice was steady as he replied, “Actually, I’d kinda hoped you’d fuck me into the mattress, but hey, I’m flexible.”
“What do you know?” Rafael murmured leaning down and scraping his teeth over the thrumming pulse in Sonny’s throat. “So am I.”
A few weeks later, in yet another bar in the Village, Rafael sipped a halfway decent glass of Scotch, once again glaring at a message from Rita.
Rafael: You’re flaking on me again? A man could get a complex.
Rita: Spare me. The last time I bailed on you, you ended up finally making a god damn move on the dishy detective.
Rafael: Dishy?
Rita: It fits. Now, call him and get him to blow you in the bathroom.
Rafael: At the risk of repeating myself, you truly are a terrible friend.
He set the phone face down so he didn’t have to see the inevitable stream of emojis from Rita. Taking another sip of his Scotch, Rafael watched the ticker tape of news headlines in the TV above the bar.
“Anyone sitting here?” a voice asked behind him.
Rafael lowered his gaze to his reflection in the mirror behind the bar and then to the blue eyes of the man standing just behind him. With a slight smirk, Rafael shook his head. “All yours...Simon, was it?”
“You remembered,” ‘Simon’ said as he sat down.
“Hard to forget,” Rafael said looking over. “And I have to say, I’ve been wondering about something.”
“And what is that, Ramón?” ‘Simon’ asked.
“The garden? With the fruit trees?” Rafael asked, as he laid a hand on the other man’s thigh. “Is it, by any chance, open at night?”
“Oh, I think that could be arranged.”
Rafael smiled and Sonny grinned back.
THE END