Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Just look at the footage, Barba.”

Barba sighed, his pen tapping on a mountain of paperwork it was eager to get back to, even if he wasn’t. Maybe he would look at the footage; he could use a diversion. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t make Benson work for it. He wasn’t easy.

“Liv, you said it was just surveillance shots, nothing pertinent to the case. What exactly is it I’m supposed to see here?”

Barba could almost hear her eyes rolling around in her head.

“Just do it, Barba. Trust me, it’s pertinent to you.”

His eyes shifted to his computer screen and the email from Liv with vid file attached. Barba sat up straighter in his chair and dropped his pen.

Okay, maybe he was easy. But Olivia didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, yeah, all right. When I get a chance. Goodbye. I’ve got work to do, even if you don’t.”

Olivia snorted. “Goodbye, Barba,” she said in a honeyed voice and disconnected.

Sweet-voiced Olivia was a dangerous thing. Maybe he would wait to watch the video.

It had turned into an open-and-shut case. Two men preying on the city’s gay community, robbing and raping. One suspect identified via mug shots by five of their victims and trailed by SVU’s detectives till he led them to his unidentified partner-in-crime, about to commit their seventh assault in as many weeks. Once arrested and faced with witness identifications and forensic evidence, they’d turned on each other at lightning speed, each one eager to beat the other to the better plea deal. Too bad for both they’d each be doing hard time.

No trial. No testimony needed, nor any surveillance video.

But Olivia wouldn’t waste his time. She understood better than anyone there was never enough for either of them in their lines of work. And the niggle at the back of his mind told Barba he hadn’t been talking to Benson the cop, but Olivia, his friend.

Pertinent to you…

Barba swiveled in his chair to fully face his computer, as he opened Benson’s email. ‘Okay, Olivia, let’s see what’s pertinent. To me.

His finger hovered a split second, before getting over itself and hitting Open, then Play.

There was a moment of static before the pixels reshaped themselves into the form of the entrance to a shabby, dank alley. The alley paralleling Suspect Number One’s place of employment, a gay bar succinctly and aptly called Ride ‘Em, known for fast hookups and even faster breakups.

There was no sound, just video. Carisi was there, leaning against the damp brick of the wall behind him. His partner on this case had his hand on the wall, right by Carisi’s head, standing close in front of him.

His partner on this case… Not Rollins. A man was needed that night. Not Fin. Benson hadn’t even asked him, and what does that say about Fin. Or Benson. Or Benson and Fin. Not Dodds….

Not Dodds.

SVU was down a man, and a detective on loan from Homicide was filling the slot for this case. Sutton Ford.

Barba snorted. When he was feeling charitable, Barba speculated that name was the result of a combination of family names and family tradition. When he wasn’t feeling charitable, which was most of the time, he knew that name was the worst sort of preppy nonsense a set of parents could inflict on their child.

“Sutton Ford.” It had no… flavor.

Not like Dominick “Sonny” Carisi, Jr. Now that name held love of family and tradition in its words, warmth and affection and groundedness. And flavor. It was real. It was… Sonny.

Barba smiled, his eyes on Carisi, as he watched the action onscreen. Or, make that inaction. It had been a mid-October night, the cold evidenced by the occasional huff of breath in the air from the two detectives. The mist of drizzle hung in the light of a streetlamp and haloed the detectives’ hair. Sonny’s hair, still structured, still professional, but softer, looser these days, begging for someone to run their fingers through it.

Barba’s fingers flexed, as he flicked his eyes to the other detective. Ford. He was tall and strong, square-jawed and clean-cut in that Superman kind of way. Was it any wonder he’d become a cop? He looked the part, right out of a comic book panel.

Ford’s dark hair also glittered with rain. Barba knew the detectives had been in that spot for almost an hour before their quarry showed, in a chill and damp that must’ve cut to the skin after that time. He wondered if that was why Sonny had had a cold a few days later. They said you couldn’t get a cold that way, but Barba didn’t believe them. Who were “they” anyway? Nobody Barba knew.

Speaking of time, Barba hoped he wasn’t going to have to wait that almost hour before whatever was pertinent to him showed up. Not that he minded looking at Carisi, especially when his pale face was dusted with raindrops and the amber glow of a streetlamp. Something he was sure Olivia knew.

But he really did have a mountain of paperwork to get through.

Just as he was thinking fast-forward, he saw Carisi’s eyes flick into the depths of the alley and his lips say something, short and sweet, to his partner. Barba knew their suspect was coming and that they’d follow him as soon as he cleared the alley. Olivia cut the tape, thankfully. Cut to the chase, for Rafael.

Rafael leaned forward, watching for… pertinence.

He watched Ford’s left hand, the one so damn close to Carisi’s head, drop to his shoulder instead and gently push Sonny further into the bricks behind him. He watched Ford close the already minute gap between their bodies and press his lips to Carisi’s in a kiss.

Okay, that- that’s business. They were supposed to be two gay guys hooking up in an alley outside a seedy bar, after all. Business.

He watched Ford press his leg between Carisi’s, the rhythm of their kiss rocking their bodies against each other. He watched Ford’s mouth shift and suspected Ford’s tongue was now in Carisi’s mouth.

Well, that- that was beyond the call. A charitable man might say Ford was just going for extra verisimilitude. Barba, not a charitable man, increasingly not a charitable man when it came to Detective Ford, thought Sutton was just going for the gusto and taking his shot while he had the chance.

He watched, with now narrowed eyes, as Sutton’s right hand slid under the flap of Sonny’s coat and disappeared and-

No. That- that was not business. That was not Detective Ford and Detective Carisi waiting out a suspect. That was Sutton taking a shot, his shot, with Sonny.

A shot. His shot.

Rafael pushed back from his desk and slammed his finger down on Pause. Maybe not a good move, because now, now, there they were - Sonny and Sutton - caught in a kiss, freeze-framed, suitable for framing.

Rafael looked at Sonny, at his hair soft and waved in the rain, at his eyes that had closed, at his skin flushed with a glow that may no longer be just from the streetlight. He looked at Sutton, all 6’2” of his body curling around Sonny’s, that damn hand doing god knows what under Sonny’s coat.

His shot. It was clear to Rafael that that was what was happening here. Sutton Ford wanted Sonny Carisi, and he was taking his shot.

Pertinent. To him.

In spite of what Olivia might think, of how obtuse she might think he was, Rafael was not unaware that people might find Sonny Carisi attractive. He was young, his body all long and lean strength, holding a wealth of kindness, empathy, intelligence and tenacity. Damn, his tenacity… Rafael smiled in spite of himself. And that face, that damn face… Sweet, so damn sweet, and beautiful to him. To Rafael.

Rafael had never told Olivia that he was attracted to Sonny, that he felt more than that, but she knew it. Of course she did. Olivia Benson was nothing if not smarter than your average bear. And she was more than that. To Rafael, she was a friend. And he knew she was trying to tell him something other than that someone else was attracted to Sonny Carisi.

He looked again at his computer screen and took a breath. He hit Play.

The rain was still falling. Sonny and Sutton were still kissing. And that damn hand continued to do any damn thing it wanted under Sonny’s coat. But Barba could see the suspect now, almost at the entrance to the alley, throwing a smirk at Carisi and Ford as he passed out onto the street and disappeared. Barba saw both detectives’ heads move slightly, no doubt listening to Fin in the surveillance van via earpieces, waiting for the all clear to follow their suspect.

The detectives were pulling apart now, Carisi’s hands dropping from Ford’s elbows, Ford’s left dropping from Carisi’s shoulder. But his mouth lingered, tugging on Sonny’s lush lower lip for one last touch, and that god damn hand in Sonny’s coat lingered, too, only sliding out, grazing Sonny’s hip as it did, as it took it’s own god damn time.

They stepped apart. They opened their eyes.

Oh.

There it was.

Pertinence.

In Sonny’s eyes.

He could see it now, in the clear blue. Want and need, loneliness. Hope. For a shot.

Rafael could see it. He knew it and understood it. The detectives of SVU had all been affected by Mike Dodds’ death. Of course, they had. Rollins was more jaded, Benson more fiercely protective of her detectives. Fin maybe felt it most of all, gutted in a way that only losing a squad member to a gun for the first time can accomplish, when you never expected it to happen at all.

And Sonny… He was putting off his law career to stick close to his squad, his second family. Barba had thought it’d been for them, for Olivia, to lend them his support and strength. His comfort. But now Barba could see it was for Sonny’s sake, as well. For their support and strength. And comfort.

The video had continued, with Carisi and Ford apparently getting the all clear to move from Fin, to follow their suspect to his unknown partner. They stepped out of the alley and disappeared down the street, off the screen. Rafael immediately hit Reverse before the screen could go blank and hit Pause. At Sonny’s eyes.

Solemn. Honest. Longing.

Not for Sutton. Rafael knew that. But for someone.

Someone.

Olivia was telling him it’d better be the right someone.

Noah coming into her life had softened her edges, allowing the joy and the light in her to seep out, the joy and the light that existed beyond the job and the victims. Beyond her own tortured family’s past. Beyond Elliot Stabler.

Dodds’ death had softened her, too. Olivia was telling him that time’s too short. She had wasted years waiting for something that never happened, couldn’t happen. Mike had lost his with Alice. Alice lost hers with Mike. Olivia was telling him to not waste his. To stop wasting his.

Olivia was giving him permission. To take his shot.

Olivia said a lot in a five minute vid clip with no sound.

Three men wanted a shot, but only two were going to get it. Neither of them was named Sutton Ford.

Benson was giving her permission. For Sonny’s sake. And Olivia was giving it. For Rafael.

He didn’t need her permission, even if he'd, maybe, been tacitly waiting for it.

He didn’t need her permission. But he’d take it.

Rafael held Sonny’s eyes as he dialed his cell. When the other end picked up, he drawled, “Liv...”

“Barba.” Matter-of-fact. She knew he’d call back. Expectant. Wanting to know if he’d gotten his head out of his ass.

“Let’s expedite Ford’s transfer back to his unit, shall we? Maybe to an entirely new precinct. Or, better yet, New Jersey.”

Benson is a good boss. Olivia is a good friend.

“Yeah.”

Barba hears her smile. He knows she hears his in reply.

Benson is a good boss. Olivia is an even better friend.