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electric-lights · 1 year

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(un)welcome visitors

Rafael Barba x gn!reader

"I didn't know every coffee maker between here and the DA's office mysteriously combusted."

He purses his lips in a humorless smile, leaning against the wooden sideboard and tapping his fingers impatiently as the machine heats up. "Carmen's out sick," he explains, his voice clipped. "The coffee stand's closed, and even I can't make myself drink the courthouse sludge."

Rafael may be using you for your coffee maker, but when a personal issue arises he offers some unexpected support.

tags: established friendship, fluff, mutual pining, hint of family angst on the reader's side, gender neutral reader, no y/n, no reader physical description

word count: 1400

note: it's only vaguely alluded to but reader is a law librarian at the county law library, which happens to be located right across from 1 hogan :) essentially you research, gather, and analyze legal materials for the public, courts, and recently a certain ADA

read on ao3 here

You lean back in your office chair with an amused grin. "Nice to see you too, Barba."

The man currently beelining it to your office's single cup coffee machine doesn't have the good grace to look chagrined. Rafael shoves his thermos underneath the spout, drops a pod in the machine, and slams the lid without even looking at you. "Yes, hello, you look good, how've you been," he rattles out dryly.

"You talking to me or the Keurig?"

The withering look he shoots you is mostly without teeth. It's not enough to deter you.

"I didn't know every coffee maker between here and the DA's office mysteriously combusted."

You raise your eyebrows.

He glances over, then does such an utterly offended double take that you have to turn your surprised snort into a cough. "That was under duress," he warns, raising a finger in your direction.

You can't help it.

"I come to you in my time of need and you mock me," he deadpans as you laugh.

"Right, except I was your third choice."

He opens his mouth to deliver what promises to be a scathing retort, but the machine chooses that moment to finally hiss to life and the aroma of vanilla beans starts to fill the office. Rafael sighs, and some of the bristling tension seeps out of his shoulders. You decide he's probably suffered enough.

"Look, not that I don't appreciate the visit," you lean forward on your elbows against the desk, "but have you ever thought about just buying one for yourself?"

You knew he rarely used the old drip maker collecting dust in his office, preferring to buy it fresh - or, when he's particularly desperate and can't get away, send Carmen out with his card. In fact, you weren't even sure the damn thing worked until you'd found half of SVU camped out in his office late one night, going over the details of a difficult case with the carafe passed around the table. But surely, when caffeine-withdrawal was at stake...

"Then people would ask to use it." Rafael's nose wrinkles at the thought as he watches the thermos fill.

The stunning lack of self-awareness doesn't seem to register.

"Hmm," you hum, "says the man raiding my coffee stash." He blinks, pausing as he screws the thermos lid on. "The man with his own snack budget at the 16th."

He rolls his eyes. "They should consider it payment for goods and services." He says it with no small amount of smarm, but as he turns towards the loveseat you managed to cram into the corner of your small office, you watch him cradle the warm thermos in his hands like a prized possession.

"Speaking of," you say slowly, reaching down into the bottom drawer of your desk and tossing the contents to him. "Here."

He deftly catches the bag, and you feel inordinately pleased when you see his eyes light up at the chicago-style popcorn. "What's this for?"

Because you see how hard he works. Because you like that your office has become a place he frequents. Because you want him to stay a little while longer.

Because you're starting to like him more than the professional bounds of your positions, even the personal warmth of your friendship, and a small, foolish part of you can't help but hope he might feel the same way.

You clear your throat a little, shifting under the way his observant gaze turns thoughtful at your silence. "Let's just say Sergeant Benson isn't the only one with a snack budget."

He huffs a laugh, murmurs his thanks, and just like that any moment you imagined is gone.

With warm drink and food in hand, he finally collapses into the old, worn loveseat. He settles, sinking into the cushions and letting his eyes flutter shut as he tips his head back with a sigh, the long line of his neck and hint of scruff bared above his slightly loosened tie. You give him a moment, quietly shuffling some papers around, trying not to think about the warmth in your chest at seeing him so comfortable in your own space.

It isn't until he sits back up, taking a sip from his thermos with a pleased hum, that you speak, your voice quiet. "So how are you Raf, really?"

"Tired." He breaks open the popcorn. "Sick of fighting off motions for this case. You?"

You grimace, thinking about the pile of work growing in your inbox. "About the same."

"Well aren't we a pair." He gives a little crooked smile as he says it, and you try not to look too pleased with his choice of words.

You settle into quiet conversation - about his mother (she's doing well, and he talks about her work at the charter school with no small amount of pride), about the latest inter-office gossip (there's at least two affairs going on but he only complains about O'Dwyer's latest promotional pet project), about the request his office sent over yesterday (you're already working on the case analyses).

He's just explaining what details he'd like you to look out for when there's a light rap at your door.

Rafael pauses. You unconsciously straighten in your seat before you call out. "Yes?"

The door creaks open and one of the front desk assistants steps just inside the threshold. "I'm sorry to interrupt." She looks between you and Rafael, then turns back to you. "But your father is here to see you."

You blink.

"That can't be right," you frown. "My parents don't even live in the city."

She glances again at Rafael - who's watching you intently over his thermos - before she turns back to you with a strained smile. "Just passing along what he said," she says, her voice apologetic.

"Did he give a name?"

When she says it you sigh, cursing internally. "Alright, I'll... I'll be down in a minute. Thank you."

And with that, she nods at you both and closes the door behind her. In the ensuing silence, the easy, friendly air from before seems to have been sucked out of the room after her.

"Should I go?"

"No." Your reply is fast enough that Rafael'e eyebrows raise in surprise. "No, I'll just see what he wants and send him home. He shouldn't even be - I can't believe he's - fuck." You trail off into a groan of frustration, burying your head in your hands.

"One of those, huh," he says softly. It's not spoken as a question.

"Yeah," you mutter into your hands.

"Want me to scare him off?"

You know he's just trying to lighten the mood but your heart still jumps when you look up at him, foolish and half hope. "Would you?"

It slips out before you can stop it but you can't regret asking, not when he holds your gaze with a kind of warmth and sincerity he usually can't afford to show.

"For you?" he murmurs, "Of course."

You're proud that your next breath comes out relatively steady.

"Thank you," you say softly. "But you really don't need to get in the middle of my family drama."

His lips twitch into a wry, crooked smile. "I'm paid to get in the middle of family drama all the time. Yours is no trouble, trust me."

Your chest shakes with a laugh despite yourself, and his smile softens, his eyes crinkling. In the light of the setting sun from your window, it makes him look younger. Lighter.

It looks good on him.

"At least let me walk you down."

He never was one to give up on a tough case. If you're honest with yourself, you never want him to stop.

"Alright, alright," you cede with a small smile. "It's a deal, counselor."

Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Rafael pushes up from the loveseat, thermos in hand. He takes his overcoat from the rack by the door and holds out your own, and your elbows brush as he steps out of your office behind you.

As the two of you walk down the hallway towards the elevator and whatever unpleasant surprise awaits you in the lobby, you realize that somehow - with Rafael beside you - you don't dread it.

#inspired by every Dad Issues ep and trying to thread the needle between barba's softness & snark #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x gn!reader #reader insert #definitely got a few more ideas for a law librarian reader #i feel like there aren't a lot of non-detective reader fics so i'm doin my part 🫡#s: pretty green eyes (you're reaching for my hand)

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spacedace · 1 year

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Here, have a snippet of the Jason & Steph sibling bonding portion of the DP x DC AU I wrote 10k words for since last night in a haze of post sickness/burnout creative burst, featuring some Anger Management because of course it does lol

(I call it a snippet but it’s like...3k words lol)

Trigger Warnings because most of this snippet focuses on them running around Crime Alley and shit that goes down in it: references to drugs, overdoses, domestic abuse, child endangerment (if I miss anything let me know and I’ll add it). Nothing expliciet or details but they are things mentioned as happening because, well, Crime Alley.

Spoiler shifts subtly from foot to foot on the rooftop, hands open and ready at her side as she split her attention from watching him and checking the street below for signs of trouble. Her gaze was sharp on the girls working the corner, tracking for any hint that the man talking them up was making any of them uncomfortable even as she made sure Jason didn’t suddenly dart across the ten feet between them to strike out at her.

“George Conrad.” He said, satisfied that his sudden breaking of the silence didn’t make her jump though did catch her attention fully, fingers twitching warningly towards her belt. He nodded his head down to the street and the large man rummaging through the bag he brought with him. More of the girls had huddled up around him. “Not a john. Not even from Gotham.” He explained, shifting to walk over to the edge of the roof, giving her his back as he did. “His son Kyle ran away from home while George was oversees and ended up working the streets. George tracked him down once he was back in the states a few years ago but by the time he made it here Kyle had been killed.”

She moved to join him at the ledge, still leaving space between them but not enough for his guns to be as effective. Smart, vigilant, but still with a soft enough heart to stop and listen to one of the many tragedies that played out in Gotham’s darkest streets.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes softening on the big man in question as he started handing out ziploc bags. Jason knew very well what they held, and wondered if Spoiler could make out the finer details from the distance they were at. Sandwiches, granola bars, water bottles, condoms, clean needles, wet-wipes, little travel sewing kits, over the counter pain meds. Anything and everything George had ever been told would be appreciated or useful by the sex workers he spoke to.

“Overdose.” Jason answered, grateful that the distorter built into his helmet disguised the tightness of his voice. Memories of a cold body on the floor, stiff and waxy with distant glassy eyes. “Got mixed up with the wrong person. Boyfriend. Not a big player but,” He shrugged and knew that Spoiler would understand. It was how a lot of people got mixed up in sex work when they wouldn’t have normally. Boyfriend that promised the world, the painful fall into being pressured to sleep with said boyfriend’s friend, then another, then another. “One of Daisy’s boys was a neighbor and figured out what was going on, Daisy helped get him out but it was too late by then.”

Below one of the girls, younger than the rest - an adult, because he wouldn’t allow anything else in his territory, but still new to the scene - surged forward to wrap her arms around the old man. George gave her a gentle pat on the back, pushing her back gentle to dig out a card from his pocket. A list of numbers for her to call, shelters and organizations that could help, his own number in case she ever needed anything. “They chipped in for a funeral for him. Gave George somewhere to go and mourn. He’s been here ever since, trying to look after them all. He works as a bouncer at Daisy’s these days but he always does the rounds when he isn’t working.”

“People never get this part.” Spoiler mused, voice going soft and distant. “They always think the Alley is just…” She waved a gloved hand, “Trash and monsters. They can’t seem to get that there’s more. Just…people. Some really good ones even.”

He smiled behind his mask. There was a reason she was the one of the whole Bat Clan he’d decided to trust with this.

“Come on.” He said, waving her after him as he began an easy run that’d let them both move easily from rooftop to rooftop. Spoiler hesitated a moment, but at length followed, quick and quiet as she darted from shadow to shadow in his wake.

They spent the following couple of hours meandering around Crime Alley at an easy clip. Squat roofs and rusted fire escapes, narrow streets and dark corners. Pausing to jump in and handle anything that popped up or at particular spots of interest where he’d point out places and people. The chop shop run by the ragged gang of teens and children some of the gangs had been angling towards that needed looking after. The homeless encampment nestled between the grimy apartment building Daisy O’Neil had taken over to run her business out of and the tiny, almost forgotten pauper’s cemetery. The usual roosting spots for the drug dealers, the gambling dens, the little family owned cafe that had the best Tantuni at midnight and even better Turkish coffee at the crack of dawn.

It was as they perched on top of this last one, tucked back in the shadows away from view as Spoiler devoured the freshly made Lokma that Mrs. Solak insisted on making fresh for them when they stopped by that the question finally came.

“So what exactly is all this?” Spoiler asked, popping another of the sugary, honey covered Lokma in her mouth. He’d shoved the container Mrs. Solak had given to him over to her after eating only a few, knowing she was going to try to steal them anyway if he didn’t. “When you said you needed my help with something in Crime Alley, I was expecting…I don’t know, drug runners or something.” She popped another golden dough ball in her mouth, cheeks round as a chipmunk and voice muffled as she said, “Not a tour of the place.”

Jason let his head fall back on the brick of the rooftop entrance behind them, eyes scanning the glittering horizon of the Gotham skyline, trying to sort out his answer. He had talked about how he was going to do this with Jazz, practicing what he was going to say, what he wanted to reveal, what outcomes he could expect from the whole thing. When he left he’d felt confident about it all, riding high on the warmth of Jazz’s kiss and the fluttering thumps of little legs kicking against his hand. Now that he was here though he felt lost as to how to begin.

“I’m hanging up the mask.” He finally said. It wasn’t quite like the first time he’d said it out loud, in the privacy of his apartment, curled in bed with Jazz, only brave enough to whisper it in the dark. There wasn’t that rush of anxiety and relief that had hit him at finally saying what had twisted over and over in his head for weeks leading up to that moment. Now there was just the settled feeling, the certainty, the surety of being on the path he wanted to be on. “I wanted to ask if you’d look after my territory me when I do.”

Spoiler gaped at him. “Wait, seriously?”

He almost laughed, he settled on giving her a lazy smile. “Seriously.”

With her masked pulled down so she could eat her treats he could see her wide eyed, disbelief on her face easily. “Why?”

He gave a shrug, aiming for nonchalant. “This used to be your territory for awhile, right? You’re from here, you know the Alley and the people and how it all works.” He felt his smile go softer, “I trust you to be able to keep it safe.”

Spoiler’s - Steph’s - expression softened at that. “That’s…thank you.” She glanced out the same way he had before, face caught in something bittersweet. “I…I hated this place growing up. I still do, kinda. I think everyone that lives here does. But I still missed it, it’s still…still home.”

“Yeah,” He agreed, mind turning over his childhood. The constant fear and hardship. Living rough even when he did have a roof over his head. His father’s heavy hands. His mother’s slow wasting. Crime Alley was a complete shit hole, one where the worst of the worst tended to gather. But it wasn’t all monsters. There were good people too, just trying to scrape by. Old George wandering the streets handing out necessities to working girls and boys. The Solak family and their little shop, giving out the left overs to the street kids and homeless. The Nightingales, crammed into their two bedroom apartment, just trying to get by. “I knew you’d get it.”

They sat in silence for awhile. Steph chewing over his request and her Lokma, Jason lost in memories of the past and wistful dreams of the future. At length the blond next to him bumped his shoulder with hers, head tilting at a questioning angle. “I…I really appreciate what you said, about why me.” She said, awkward and touched in equal measure. “But…I was actually wondering why you were stepping back.”

He was ready for that question, he was. He’d initially just wanted to leave it at none of your fucking business but Jazz had - wise as ever - pointed out that he was asking her a favor, and a big one at that. He might not be comfortable with the rest of his family knowing everything - or anything - but Steph at least deserved an explanation as to why he was asking her to take over his territory.

“You tell anyone this, and I will kill you.” He started and then cringed internally because that had not at any point been something that had come up in his practice conversations with Jazz. Oh well, any more ooie-gooey feelings talk and Steph probably would have thought he was replaced by a pod person or something. “I’m seeing someone.”

The faintly alarmed look the blond vigilante beside him had melted away in an instant, replaced by a sly, mischievous grin. Hellion. One whiff of gossip and that’s all it took. “Ooooh, Big Bad Red Hood has a heart after all.” She crooned, ignoring her earlier reticence to get too close and leaning dramatically against his side. “Who is it huh? Anyone I know? Ooh, is it someone in the Outlaws?”

He was reminded of before he died, suddenly. Of teasing Dick over his latest crush over a beautiful red head that could kick his ass like a proper annoying little brother. In an echo of that moment so many years ago, he shoved Spoiler off in the same way Dick had done to him, rolling his eyes at her dramatic squawking as she nearly dropped her treat to disguise the small smile that wanted to curl at his lip. He swiped at the container lazily, a feint at stealing it back that resulted in a brief scuffle that ended with him popped a few of the Lokma in his mouth as she tore the container - that he had given to her in the first place - away, holding it close to her chest like a precious treasure.

“No, no one you know.” He answered at last they finally settled down. He paused for a beat, gaze turning back to the city as he added. “She’s a civilian.”

Spoiler looked considering at that, chewing at one of the last of the Lokma thoughtfully. “So what’s going on then? You do a face reveal and she asked you to quit the vigilante business?”

“No.” He said, taking a small, steadying breath. Better to just rip off the bandaid. “She’s pregnant.”

Spoiler went still beside him, laughing eyes shuttering and face falling into a neutral mask as she stared at him. After a long, long moment she gave a small, unreadable little, “Oh.”

Jason fought the urge to fidget. Oh. It could mean so many things. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh how nice. Oh boy I can’t wait to tell Bruce about this. That last one, admittedly, was unlikely. Spoiler was on good terms with most of the Bats and Birds but she and Bruce had long had something of a rocky relationship. No where near as bad as what he and the old man had, but still enough that she was probably the very last person to willingly go hunt Bruce down to share all the details of Jason’s private life unless she thought it particularly necessary.

The silence stretched on. And Jason knows what silence does to a human brain. Four seconds of quiet during a conversation after saying something registers as rejection, caused feelings of anxiety and apprehension, even caused the same signals in the brain as physical pain. Prolonged silence and steady attention at the same time caused an urge to fill the quiet, to speak and keep speaking until the other person says something. It was something Bruce taught him, guiding him along in his Robin days on how to perform interrogation and get the person they were questioning to spill their guts.

He was taught too how to outlast that silence in situations where he was being questioned. Both by Bruce and by the League - though the interrogations that he was meant to resist under their teachings had far more than long awkward silences to contend with. He knew how to clamp down on that instinctive drive to keep talking when faced with stillness like this.

And yet, somehow he could stop himself.

“I just…I think about being a kid and my dad going to work,” He said the word with appropriate amount of vitrol, “And then never coming back. Him dying in jail and it just being me and my mom trying to scrape by. Or…or with Bruce. Knowing that I was always going to place second to the Rogues and the city. I just…” His head dropped back on the brick behind him, eyes closed and throat tight. “I can’t do that to my kid. I’m going to be there. I’m going to make sure they’re safe and happy and that they don’t ever have to worry about if their old man is coming home or not.”

It was a nightmare he’d been having, since the morning he and Jazz crowded over a couple of pregnancy tests and saw the results. Dying out in the gutter and shambling home as a ghost to see the grief he left behind. Jazz crying, a child who’s features he could never make out standing in the doorway the way he would stand at the entrance of the cave when he was too injured to go out with Batman. Waiting in painful silence and burning tears to find out that his father was dead.

“I’m not…I’m not cutting out of the life completely.” He said, trying to focus past the squeezing in his chest, trying to force the conversation back into a conversation rather than him just pouring his bleeding heart out to a blank wall. “I’m going to talk to Babs, see if she’d be alright with me helping with some of what she does, or get something similar setup solely for the Alley. I’m going to keep tabs with my guys on what’s going on and work with them that way. And if there’s anything big, obviously you guys can call me in, I’m not just going to sit back if there’s a city wide threat or worse, I just - “

There were arms around him, suddenly. Warm and strong as they wrapped around him, a face pressed into his shoulder, his nose tickled by blond hair.

He sat there, frozen for a long moment before slowly, lifting his own arms to return the hug. Steph gave him an encouraging squeeze. “I get it.” She said, voice whisper soft and almost lost as she spoke into the leather of his jacket. “I think…I think if I’d been older, if I was more able to keep her…I think I would have done the same thing.” There was a faint sniff as she finally pulled away. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were bright with tears. “I’m happy for you.” She moved to gently head butt him, “And I’m honored to take over watching over this shithole of ours.”

Jason gave a watery laugh, not even caring that he was crying as he scrubbed away some of the tears that had burned down his cheek. “Thanks Blondie. Steph.”

She rocked back on her heels, arms crossed as her expression turned suddenly serious. “I do have one condition though.” At his look the seriousness melted away into an exuberant grin. “I want to meet this mystery woman of yours. Wait!” She brightened, “Two conditions! I want to be there when you finally tell B and the rest! I am not missing the look on their faces when you tell them!”

He rolled his eyes and shoved her, sending her tumbling into the container of Lokma and sending the remaining fried dough balls rolling across the grungy roof. Steph squawked, dropping to her knees before the thoroughly ruined sweets as dramatic as if it was her one true love laying dead before her. “They were so young, so innocent!” She wailed, throwing her head back as if to howl at the sky in mourning before snapping back to him, finger pointing at him accusatory. “You! This is your fault! I will have my vengeance!”

The rest of the night was spent darting from rooftop to rooftop in an echo of the game of tag he used to play with Dick and Babs years ago. Tackling each other and fighting without actually aiming to do real damage. Only pausing to jump down to the street or through a window here and there to knock some heads together.

By the time he was heading to the Dead Man’s Hand so he could walk Jazz home - or whisk her off to his safehouse, if he was lucky and she was able to duck her siblings for the day - he felt lighter. Steph would look after the Alley, the people he protected. He’d work with her over the next few months, get her integrated with his lieutenants and make sure she was familiar with the ins and outs of his little slice of Gotham, make sure she was as ready as she could be to take over for him.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #jason todd #stephanie brown #jason & steph sibling bonding for the win #anger management #jazz fenton #crime alley #jason retiring as red hood #jason asking steph to take over looking after crime alley for him #my head canon is that the second Jason realizes he's a dad in any capacity he's gonna walk away from the vigilante/crime lord life #he just wouldn't be able to do it to his kid #Steph and Jason would be friends you can't convince me otherwise #they'd get each other in a way I don't think the rest of the batfam would #also Jason and Barbara teaming up to be overwatch would be amazing #the amount of snark and sass that everyone would get over comms would be unending #i'm so fucking glad to be finally writing again god damn #trying to point my brain back to business of family but this particular au has me in a chokehold right now #i just wanna write the scene were Harley shows up covered in blood and hugs Jason & Babs & tells them they're safe #because she finally killed that fucking evil ass clown #bc the Joker threatened the family Jason was building for himself #and Aunt Harley wasn't having any of that fuck you very much for thinking otherwise Joker #ghosts of gotham au

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