#I decided that he gets those sharp elbows and the back fin when he’s experiencing strong emotions

[shortcakelils]

What type of animal is your Oc Cameo? Is he a fantasy character or an actual species?

Also angry and crying Cameo has been getting me feels

he’s a blue shark! well he’s supposed to be

suffer

[eremikadefensesquad]

The Ocean’s Mercy - chapter 1

A/N: It was only a matter of time before I fell down the fanfiction Pharmercy hole lmao

Guess who can’t link her ao3 and ff.net pages to her fanfiction posts anymore and has never written Overwatch fanfiction before and desperately needs the tag visibility for her first Pharmercy fic?? Dis bitch here. So if anyone is interested in reading this fic on my fanfiction account pages (princessfothenight93 on ff.net and Meekahsa on ao3), you’ll have to send me a PM or go to my /fanfiction page. Anywho, this fic is a bit of an art trade with @hanghr , who originally drew art for and came up with the idea. As I write it, she’ll be posting art to go along with it.

Despite her relatively young age, captain Fareeha Amari was an experienced captain with a loyal crew and a family reputation stretching decades. She had seen them safely through any degree of seafaring disasters: storms of all sizes, attacks from hostile pirates, navigation issues, and even a stranding or two. She had thought she had seen all the sea had to throw at her. That was, until, her crew pulled a mermaid onto her deck during what was supposed to be an already-dangerous trip. Fareeha would soon come to learn that the sea still had much to teach her.

Unlike her mother, Fareeha Amari didn't much care to associate herself with Overwatch. She supposed their intentions were noble enough, but the group of justice-orientated mercenaries was very secretive, very exclusive in who they recruited, and even the people they did business with were often left in the dark, given information on a need-to-know basis. That was not how Fareeha preferred to work when her ship was involved with transporting goods from one continent to the other.

For decades, her mother had worked for Overwatch exclusively, transporting goods of all shapes and sizes - most of it contraband that would have gotten her thrown in prison for five lifetimes if she was ever caught trying to bring it into some of the ports she had. To say that it had put a strain on their relationship was a bit of an understatement, especially given the generations of reputation their family had built as peerless sailors. After her mother's untimely death, Fareeha had made it very clear to the higher-ups of Overwatch that she would be involved in no illegal activity, and they largely ignored she existed for years, effectively cutting all their ties with her family. She supposed it was because an organization as big as Overwatch had an obscene amount of resources and could get any random sailor to transport their military-grade weapons from one country to another by throwing enough money at them. It was a loss of client-el that Fareeha did not regret in the slightest.

So, imagine her surprise when she was contacted by Overwatch's leader, a Jack Morrison, while in port in Germany for a few weeks between transport jobs. She had met the stone-faced American man over a few drinks in a pub. The negotiations started off pretty rocky, considering the first thing he brought up was now much he missed her mother's expertise. Fareeha had simply glared at him and given him an equally cold "I'm not my mother" before they began to discuss the details of what he wanted.

Morrison needed an assortment of weapons - perfectly legal ones, he assured her - transported from their base in Eichenwald to a small port in Australia. The sensitive issue was that those seas were plagued by a pirate gang known as the Junkers, and it was incredibly dangerous to traverse. He claimed he didn't want to send someone as inexperienced as his usual transporters to waters that deadly, so he was reaching out to someone who had experience dealing with and avoiding pirates. Namely, her and her crew. That's what he said, at least - though Fareeha personally thought it was more likely he couldn't find anyone stupid enough to cross paths with the Junkers. Fareeha and the crew of her ship, the Raptora, had locked horns with Talon pirates before and came out alive, but pirates were something she would never go out of her way to deal with. She almost told to shove it up his ass, but when he offered her more money than her last five jobs combined, she begrudgingly agreed to it.

That was two weeks ago, and to say they were off course was being generous. Almost immediately after leaving Germany, they hit one of the roughest storms she had seen all year - a sign of things to come, Fareeha was sure. It was nothing she hadn't dealt with a hundred times in the past, but it was enough to set them back several days. From where she was sitting at her desk in her quarters, Fareeha resisted the urge to sigh. Every second she was on this trip, she became more and more doubtful about it. She hadn't wanted to get involved in Overwatch and it's affairs, and even nature itself seen to be telling her that she was making a grave error.

As if reading her thoughts, she could suddenly hear an abnormal amount of activity and commotion on the deck above her. At least a dozen sets of footstep were sounding overhead and a lot of shouting accompanied the frenzy of motion. Deciding it was probably in her best interest to check up on it, Fareeha stood up, throwing her black gold-trimmed captain's coat over the white shirt and tie she was already wearing.

Upon reaching the deck, she could see a gathering of about thirteen deckhands - essentially her entire upper deck staff - standing around something towards the center of the ship. Ignoring how annoyed that made her when they were already far behind schedule, she moved toward them to see what the excitement was about.

As she approached the crowd and they quickly parted ways to allow space for their captain to pass through, Fareeha's eyes widened in shock at what the source of the activity was. Lying in the middle of the deck, tangled in the remnants of a net that a few bold crew members had attempted to cut her out of, was a creature that the young captain had only ever heard stories of. It was a mermaid and a strikingly beautiful one at that. It was like something straight out of a children's book, with long platinum blonde hair that fell to its shoulders in wet tendrils and striking blue eyes the same color as the ocean it had just been pulled from. The tail spread out behind the mermaid was a mix of golden and orange hues that shimmered in the sunlight. The golden scales even ran up the torso a bit, covering the gill slits just below its breasts on both sides of her body. Fins stuck out at various points of the creature's body - most dominantly the large dorsal fin that ran almost the entire length of its back. Identical fins stuck out where its ears would if been if it was a person, and at the elbows.

However, the pretty face and a colorful tail were where the appeal ended, for the mermaid's body language was anything but soft. It was wired, tense, razor-sharp teeth bared as a quiet growl seemed to be coming from the back of its throat. The mermaid's dorsal fin was flared upward, trying to make itself look bigger. It supported its upper body with its hands, glaring at all of the surrounding humans at once, challenging all of them to come anywhere nearby. When Fareeha finally made it closer to the creature, its blue eyes snapped to her own brown eyes, and there was nothing there but aggression. The captain took another step toward the creature, and the growl evolved into a hiss as it seemed to recoil slightly, the bloodlust almost immediately replaced by unease.

In a way, she found the display a bit disappointing - she had heard stories about mermaids, about how they could supposedly communicate with people, how they could be related to and experienced sentience and some degree of self-awareness, but this one in front of her was nothing more than an animal - a scared one, granted, but an animal. And if there was one thing Fareeha had learned with dealing animals, it was to recognize when one was agitated, and this mermaid was miles past that point. She finally tore her gaze away from the defensive glare of the mermaid and back to a group of the men and women standing around.

"So, what exactly were you doing while I was below deck for ten minutes?" Her eyebrow was arched. "You all have much better things to be doing than harassing the local wildlife, don't you think?"

"With all due respect, Captain," one of the men grunted in response, "it is a mermaid."

"I don't care what the hell it is," she snapped back, "it doesn't belong on my deck." As Fareeha glanced back at the aquatic crypid on the deck mere feet from her, she began to remember the much darker side of the stories she had heard of merfolk: sirens who lured entire ships to their deaths with mirages and beautiful songs, mermaids and mermen who drowned people for pleasure, monsters who resented humanity and would do anything they could to bring death to humans they found on the seas. Hell, even captive mermaids had been known to kill their owners through the power of their voices and their inhuman beauty. There was absolutely no part of her that wanted such a dangerous creature on her ship, let alone in close proximity to almost her entire crew.

"Should we take it to that tank on the lower deck?" another voice asked.

"Absolutely not," Fareeha snapped in response, horrified that he was suggesting they actually keep the mermaid. "I want that thing thrown back in the water where it belongs. We still have several weeks on this trip and I'm not going to keep a dangerous animal we know nothing about on board." The only response the captain got from her crew after that was silence and a very heavy atmosphere that made it all too obvious to her that none of them agreed with the call she was making. "If any of you have something to say, I'm always open to suggestions," she deadpanned.

Finally, one of the women in the group sighed. "Captain, it's just that mermaids are as rare and as valuable as they come. People pay millions for them. We'd be-"

"We have a job to be doing," Fareeha reminded her sharply, as her harsh eyes skimmed over the entire crowd of sailors who were definitely neglecting their duties to stand around gawking at the mermaid. She didn't even want to know how much time had already been wasted by the sheer effort of spotting, netting and hauling the thing on board in the first place. "We don't have time to mess around with something like this," Fareeha continued heatedly. "We're already running behind schedule and you all have duties you are supposed to be performing right now that are far more important than talking about selling a mermaid."

"These things are menaces," another man spoke up. "There's no telling how many sailors have died at the hands of creatures like that one."

Fareeha's eyebrow arched. "And that makes me want it on my ship even less."

"That's why we should take it from the ocean," he persisted. "It's one less killer plaguing the seas. At least in a tank, it won't be hurting anyone."

Pondering over his words, Fareeha looked back at the mermaid once more. It was still staring directly at her, teeth still bared, body still poised like it was prepared to strike her at any second. In fact, the creature was so tense that she was certain that the only reason it hadn't tried to make a break for the edge of the ship was because of the sheer amount of people surrounding it. It had nowhere to go - it was simply cornered, and so was reacting in the only way a cornered animal knew how to. Still...it hadn't actually hurt anyone yet. Of course, the captain was more than aware of the reputation merfolk had, but it was just that: a reputation. Fareeha had never seen any of the attacks herself, she merely heard accounts from far-off sailors and their tales, and nobody really knew where fact ended and fiction began.

And even if they were true, was it fair to hold this one mermaid accountable for the morbid actions of others of its kind? As far as they knew, this one was completely harmless. Even if it was about as intelligent as an animal, it was still wild - it had spent its entire life in the ocean. To take it from something like that, condemning it to a boundary of four glass walls for the rest of its life based on stories and legends, seemed cruel.

Even so, Fareeha wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. It might not have been fair, but she'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she was curious about the creature. This would be the only opportunity she'd ever have in her life to see a mermaid, to see how it swims, how it interacts to environments around it, how it feeds. They weren't going to touch land for more than a few hours for a least a month. That was a long time to observe the mermaid in her very limited free time. She looked back to the cryptid's expressive blue eyes, as two of the small fins growing out the side of its tail slapped down against the scales with a tiny smacking sound.

Finally, Fareeha nodded. "Alright. But I don't want anyone going near it for at least a full day. We still have no idea what it's capable of."

It happened so quickly that Fareeha barely processed it. As a deckhand reached for the mermaid's arm to restrain it, it twisted its entire torso with the speed of a snake and sunk its mouth full of razor-sharp teeth into his leg. The man let out a howl of pain and the mermaid, as quickly as it lashed out, recoiled heavily as if he had struck it across the face. It allowed its torso to rest on the wooden deck as it stared at the person it had attacked, blue eyes wide. The dorsal fin was lying flat against the mermaid's back, ears tilted downward as it made its entire body sink lower to the floor. In the next instant, three men had jumped on the creature's back, one of them pushing the mermaid's head down against the hard ground cheek-first while another man grabbed both of its wrists and held them behind its back. The mermaid writhed under them and made a few distressed whimpers from deep within its throat, but had no means to fight back against them.

Fareeha's lips pursed as she watched the struggle unfold, brown eyes slowly shifting from the mermaid to the gaping wound on her sailor's leg, then back to the mermaid again. She no longer had a legitimate argument to make in defense of the animal; it had just sealed its own fate in that small act of violence. It had proven that it was willing to attack a human, and that was all the crew would need to consider it too dangerous to set free. Even if she didn't entirely agree with it, she had to maintain a semblance of reason, and after that, there was no reasonable conclusion she could come to that didn't end with the mermaid being imprisoned. At that point, it wasn't worth getting her crew angry at her.

Two more deckhands stepped forward and between the five of them, they picked the creature up and carried it to a lower deck. Fareeha was silent as she watched the mermaid vanish from her sight, and instead looked to the injured deckhand.

"Damn thing," he grumbled.

"Go see the medic," Fareeha told him. "At the very least, make sure it gets cleaned and dressed." With that, she stepped away from him. He'd be fine; the mermaid hadn't done any serious lasting damage. It was just a blood-drawing bite and she was certain that she'd never heard of a story of merfolk being venomous before.

Despite her hesitation in keeping their new cargo, Fareeha did find herself somewhat curious about the cryptid. She had truly never even seen a merperson before. They were exotic, elusive, exceptionally rare creatures, and their value was something that could hardly be fathomed. They lived exclusively in the mansions and palaces of the wealthiest people in the world, serving as centerpieces of their fortunes and empires. While Fareeha and her crew were certainly not struggling for money, they were a far cry from the people who usually got to lay their eyes on such a luxury. A live wild mermaid hadn't even been seen in well over a decade, much less captured alive. They were reclusive and incredibly aggressive when cornered. And yet there was one of these absurdly rare creatures just a couple decks below her feet. At the very least, she could observe the beast before it was inevitably sold to the tune of millions.

Ignoring the warning bells going off in the back of her head, she moved down the stairs to their lowest deck, where they had a small storage tank. It was there more so as a place to store emergency food in the case they ran through their supplies and needed to resort to catching fish. She could only recall having used it two or three times in her career, but now it was serving a much different purpose. As she pushed the door to the small room open, she stopped.

A couple of crew members who hadn't been on the deck when the mermaid had been pulled out of the water were gathered in the room, but when they saw their captain the immediately straightened up and left the room before she could say anything to them. Fareeha resisted the urge to sigh; the damn mermaid was already making it hard for people to listen to her orders. Maybe that's where they got their reputation as enchantresses from. Finally, she came to a stop directly in front of the wall of glass that took up most of the room. The mermaid was barely visible - it was curled up in a compact ball in the far corner of the square tank, shielding everything but the orange-gold of its tail from prying eyes. As Fareeha sat down on one of the storage crates in the room, watching the mermaid intensely as she rested her arms on her legs, she couldn't help be struck with a strong feeling of pity for the beast. It was just frightened. They had unceremoniously ripped it from its natural habitat, ganged up on it and restrained it, and they stuck it in a cage where it had nowhere to hide. The entire time the mermaid had been in her presence, it had been tense and on-edge; even now, the position it was laying in wasn't natural or relaxed - it was forcing itself into such a small shape as if to cease to exist, shielding itself from the reality of the situation it found itself.

The captain seemed to recall that soft voices and gentle tones could help to calm scared animals. Perhaps that would work with the mermaid.

"My name is Fareeha," she told the creature, her voice even. "Captain Fareeha Amari." For a moment, Fareeha doubted that the mermaid could hear her through the glass, but its tail shifted ever so slightly, allowing a blue eye to stare at her from behind the wall of gold. "Do you have a name?" Unsurprisingly, the mermaid just continued to watch her with the same blank glaze to its eye and she once again tried to ignore the nagging feeling of disappointment. This mermaid was no more sentient than a dog or a cat. It couldn't even understand the words she was speaking to it, much less communicate with her.

"I don't want to call you 'mermaid'. How about I give you a name? Would you like that?" The mermaid just blinked silently. For a long moment, she returned the creature's silence, pondering to herself over what kind of a name would suit a creature she knew nothing about. The only thing she had really seen the mermaid do was bite one of her sailors on the leg and immediately change its mind and show him a tiny bit of mercy by letting go. Fareeha smiled to herself before making eye contact with the mermaid once more. "How about Mercy? It means to show kindness or compassion when you don't have to. Sort of how you decided to not tear one of my deckhand's legs off. That was an act of mercy, right? I think it suits you." The irony of naming a dangerous mermaid Mercy wasn't lost on Fareeha, but she highly doubted that the creature cared in the slightest what she called it.

When she looked at the mermaid's blue eye once more, however, it had changed. Mercy's expression seemed to be a bit harsher and it only stared back at Fareeha's own brown eyes for another moment before the tail covered it's face once more.

After that final display, Fareeha knew that there was nothing she could say that would coax the mermaid out of its defensive ball, so rather than waste her time, she stood up. Mercy just needed time to get comfortable, needed to be left alone and given time adjust to its new surroundings. It certainly wasn't going to just sit in that ball for the entire trip, it was only a matter of time before the mermaid calmed down. Before exiting the room, Fareeha looked back at Mercy for a second. The mermaid's tail had moved so that two ocean blue eyes were watching her as she retreated, but they were filled with such a deep sadness that she hesitated in the doorway for several seconds. Finally, Fareeha shook her head and closed the door behind her, sure that she was just imagining it.

[leofemt]

milk, no sugar

"I heard you like Broadway," Carisi starts awkwardly. This is an awful, awful idea.

"Occasionally." Barba doesn't give anything away, setting his coffee down and fiddling with what looks like a bouquet-in-progress. It reminds Carisi of a creamsicle, or something, bright orange and soft white petals, accented with greenery.

"Hey, that's cool, New York City and all that." Carisi blusters, and he doesn't know why he's tripping over his words now. Maybe something of what Rollins said yesterday's gotten into his head.

barisi, barista/florist au, 7.3k words. 

on ao3.

Carisi yawns as he unlocks the door to the coffee shop. The street is still dark, the occasional car speeding by.

"Dodds?" He calls, re-locking the door behind him. The light in the back room is on, filtering through the cracks around the door. He flicks the lamp on the front counter on, not wanting to turn on the main lights just yet.

"Yeah!" Dodds replies through the door. "Hey, Carisi, good timing. Come help me with this."

Carisi frowns, quickly turning on the coffee machine, hearing its familiar stutter, and opening the door to the back room.

"Yeah?" He says, and his eyes widen, taking in the scene in front of him. He laughs. "Dodds, what-"

Dodds frowns at him.

"Shut up, just help me." He mutters. There's flour on the floor and an explosion of sticky dough on the counter. "I was trying a new sticky bun recipe, and the Cusinart-"

Carisi chuckles and rolls up his sleeves.

"Figures, my opening shifts I end up with the new guy." He says, and Dodds huffs.

"You were the new guy two months ago." He replies, scraping dough off the marble counter with a piece of plastic. He glances over. "You should've put on an apron, Carisi."

Carisi grumbles, because Dodds is right. There's already flour and sticky, drying yeast on his shirt.

"I'll put an apron on over it, or something," He says.

"That's disgusting," Dodds says.

"It's your fault." Carisi pinches his lips.

Dodds sighs.

"Yeah, okay. I'll lend you my spare shirt." He offers, and Carisi mumbles an acceptance, placated. They clean up as best they can, but at some point Dodds has to put those buns in the oven, or Carisi will be opening a coffee shop with no pastries.

There's a knock at the front door. Carisi's head shoots up.

"Hold on, I'll get that." He says, rushing to the sink, scrubbing his hands as quickly as possible. "Liv's still on vacation, right? Did Rollins forget something?"

Dodds shrugs.

The knocking gets sharper. Carisi hisses as the water turns too hot. He shuts off the tap.

"Coming!" He shouts. His gaze swivels to Dodds. "Get those buns in the oven, yeah?"

Dodds looks at him.

"Technically I'm more experienced than you, Carisi." He says, working the dough under his hands without looking down. "Y'know."

Carisi makes a shooing motion with his hands.

"Yeah, I know, whatever," he replies, wiping his hands and all but sprinting to the door to the front end, bursting out of it. "Rollins? Is that-"

It's not Rollins. Fucking Christ, it's the guy, Carisi blinks, the guy from across the street- the florist in the apron with the sharp hair and the weird ties, and he's scowling through the glass.

Carisi jolts out of his trance and fumbles to open the door.

"Uh." He says. "Can I help you?"

It's snowing outside. Carisi can see why the guy's understandably grumpy. Snowflakes are gathering on the shoulders of his coat, and he glances meaningfully at the warm, dimly lit interior of the cafe.

"Uh." Carisi repeats. "Yeah, come in. You're-"

"Rafael Barba." The guy says, brushing off his shoulders, stepping inside. "I work across the street-"

"-at the florist's, yeah." Carisi finishes, and Barba looks startled, like he's never been interrupted mid-sentence before. "Liv's gone over there a couple times, whaddya need?"

Barba looks slowly over the dough-sticky front of Carisi's shirt.

"I thought Liv usually works Sunday mornings." He says. "Who are you?"

"Oh, Liv's vacation leave starts today." Carisi replies, crossing his arms over his front self-consciously. "She's goin' to the Bahamas, or something. With her mystery suitor."

Barba frowns.

"Was that today?" He mutters.

"Didja need something?" Carisi asks again, awkwardly, and Barba looks back up at him. He shakes his head.

"No, I think I'm fine." He says. "I needed to talk to Liv, but if she's not here-"

He motions towards the door.

"Right." Carisi says. "Uh, here, I'll get the door."

Barba nods succinctly, gathering himself. Carisi sees him leave without a goodbye.

~~~~~~

It's not until an hour later Carisi remembers he'd forgotten to introduce himself.

Damn, he thinks, the chance to tell the attractive guy across the street his name- all he knows about Barba is that he's a florist, he likes Broadway musicals, and he takes his coffee with some kind of milk but no sugar. He likes to come in when Liv is on duty. She knows how to make his coffee right.

He shakes himself out of it. Dodds clatters another tray of scones on the counter, and Carisi pulls on his latex gloves and puts the rest into the glass display case- it's ten minutes to opening. This is his first shift without Liv or Rollins or Fin to watch his back. His hands shaking may or may not have something to do with the three espressos he's already had, just to psych himself up. He's going to crash so, so badly this afternoon.

"Make me a frappe before we open?" Dodds jokes, and Carisi rolls his eyes. "I'll settle for an espresso shot."

Carisi hits the button. Dodds downs the cup. The sun's started to rise outside, so Carisi turns the main lights on, seeing the coffee shop come to life. In half an hour, it'll be full of people looking for their morning caffeine fix.

~~~~~~

Carisi sees Barba hand a bouquet of sunflowers to a young, redheaded woman outside the front of his shop, and sighs. His cheek is propped up on his palm.

"Barba?" Dodds looks ac Carisi, then Barba out the window, then back again. "Really?"

"Hey!" Carisi protests. "Listen-"

Dodds holds up a hand.

"Nevermind. I don't want to hear it." He says on second thought, shaking his head. Carisi's protests die on his tongue- it's not like he has thing for the guy, outside of him looking cute in an apron. He's kind of an asshole. Right? Carisi wonders what makes that kind of guy decide to run a flower shop.

The crowd has died down. All their customers are either the hipster-looking type, who tap away on their Macbooks at the small tables in the front of the shop, or take their drinks to-go.

"You could ask Liv to put in a good word," Dodds offers.

Carisi buried his head in his hands.

"It's not a job recommendation or something, Dodds." He says, voice muffled in his fingers. "Just..."

Dodds pats him on the back.

"You're lucky you're engaged." Carisi sighs.

~~~~~~

Rollins comes to relieve Carisi after six hours of scribbling names on cups and pressing well-worn buttons on the behemoth silver coffeemaker behind the counter. She ties her apron behind her back and cracks some joke about Fin's perpetual lateness, and Carisi washes up, gratefully.

"I'll get your shirt back tomorrow." Carisi promises Dodds. He purses his lips. The shirt hangs baggy on him, because yeah, sue him, he doesn't have the other man's strong biceps or thick chest. He has a slim figure. Not weedy. Lean.

"You alright, Carisi?" Rollins looks up at him. "Earth to space cadet."

"Hey, I'm at least an astronaut." Carisi protests. "Dodds is the cadet."

Rollins laughs, and draws a dog's face in the foam of the latte she's making for herself.

"Excuse me." A voice from Carisi's elbow. Carisi almost jumps out of Dodds's shirt.

"Jesus." He exhales, pressing a palm to his chest, swiveling around. "Barba, you scared the-"

"Hey, Barba." Rollins interrupts, smiling her southern-belle smile. "Need a pick-me-up?"

Barba sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, his forehead wrinkling.

"Yes, please." He groans. "The usual. If I see one more iris I'm going to go insane."

"How is it everyone knows Barba's usual but me?" Carisi wonders aloud.

"Because he makes a point to come in when Liv or I are working." Rollins jokes, pouring steamed milk into a to-go cup. "Barba doesn't like learning new faces."

"Don't make me out to be some... antisocial hobgoblin." Barba snarks, crossing his arms, but he won't look directly at Carisi.

Rollins shrugs.

"I mean, you play the part." Rollins fires back. "I still don't like you, and I've been working across the street from your shop for three years."

Barba rolls his eyes.

"I ordered coffee, not your opinions." He says, taking his wallet from his back pocket and rifling through it for a fiver. "I should get a refund for having to listen to insults."

Rollins pushes his coffee across the counter. The name scribbled on the side is 'hobgoblin'. Barba stares at it distastefully before, apparently, deciding that his need for caffiene trumps his petty instincts, and picking it up.

"Keep the change." He deadpans, turning around and walking out of the shop. Carisi tracks his back with his eyes. Dodds raises his eyebrows.

"He's a ray of sunshine." Dodds says.

Rollins laughs.

"Just wait 'til you see him at the street small-business meetings." She says. "He's like a lawyer, or something. That's why the light in front of our shops never stays out for more than a day when it goes out, 'cause he gets what he wants at the municipality meetings."

Carisi groans. Rollins gives him a funny look. Great. Barba is hot, smart, and a sarcastic dick. He has really stellar taste.

~~~~~~

"The shop holding up while I'm not there?" Liv's voice is tinny through the speakers. Rollins, Fin, Carisi, and Dodds are crowded around the phone. The last customers are filtering out of the door, and it's almost time to close up- Carisi had left around lunchtime, run some errands, checked up on Bella on his niece, but Rollins had suggested they all try the new burger joint down the street, so he shows back up at the coffee shop around closing time.

"As well as we can." Fin says with a chuckle. "Enjoy your vacation, but come back soon, Liv."

"Noah alright with your sister and Lucy?" Liv asks, and Rollins smiles.

"As well as they can be." She laughs. "Hey, Kim's come pretty far after she started getting therapy and meds, and you've got a good sitter in Lucy. There's not a lot of sitters who'll stay in a house they're not familiar with for an entire week."

Benson sighs.

"Yeah, I know." She says, but she sounds happy. "Heard Barba came in again."

Carisi speaks up.

"Yeah, didja know he avoids us newbies?" He says, faking an offended voice. "Shoulda seen the look on Dodds' face."

"Yeah?" Liv chuckles. "Well, I'll be sure to call him and tell him to apologize to Dodds."

"I'm right here, you know." Dodds says.

"Anyways." Rollins interrupts, giving Carisi a look. "We won't keep you. Go have fun with your mysterious friend."

"Yeah, who're you with?" Fin pipes up, but Liv only laughs.

"I'll call again later." She says. "Text me if anything happens."

They say their goodbyes. Liv hangs up. Carisi sees Barba locking up his shop across the street, back illuminated by the setting sun- the navy snowclouds from this morning have cleared, and now the sky is flooded with the shades of roses and tropical fruit smoothies. Barba and the nice girl who works the front desk who sometimes comes in to pick up two coffees- her name reminds Carisi of caramel, but he's so wiped he can't pull it from the reserves of his memories-, one with steamed milk, one caramel-something-frappe, are pulling the display carts bursting with flowers into the shop.

"Let's get dinner!" Rollins says, beaming. She seems a lot happier now that Kim's working her program and she can focus her energy on Jesse. No more gambling, no more heavy drinking, just her and her sister and her baby and her dog and maybe her friends at the coffeehouse- she seems... well-adjusted. Carisi's happy for her.

"Yeah, Carisi's paying." Fin says, grinning, and Carisi starts.

"Hey, wait-" He says.

"I'm down with that." Dodds laughs. Carisi starts to wish he had better friends.

~~~~~~

Carisi wakes up the next morning sprawled on the floor. It's dark. There's a tapping sound.

"Fuck." He groans. "Fuck."

Beside him, someone shifts.

"Carisi?" Dodds mutters. "What the fuck-"

"Yeah, yeah, Ma, I'm comin'..." Carisi mumbles. The tapping sound is getting louder. He throws an arm over his eyes. At least it's still dark.

"Hey." Dodds slaps him. "Carisi. What's that noise."

"God, don't ask me." Carisi groans.

After a moment, he forces himself to sit up. God, Rollins and Fin must have goaded him and Dodds into drinking more than advisable last night. He definitely needs to get better friends.

"What!" He shouts, rubbing his eyes, and Dodds smacks him again and hisses to shut up. They're both so, so hungover. Carisi gets to his feet and goes to the door, because they're on the floor of the coffeehouse. This can't be sanitary.

He stares unseeingly out of the glass door.

Barba stares back at him. His tapping against the glass doesn't stop.

"Barba." Carisi groans when he comes back to his senses, and of course the cute guy across the street has to see him. He opens the door.

"Carisi." Barba says, deadpan.

"Barba." Carisi mumbles again. "Sorry."

He's not quite sure why he's apologizing, but in front of Barba, with his perfect tie-shirt-accessory combo and his sharp ears and his nice figure under an apron, he feels a little like a slob. Probably because he's just woken up from drunk-sleeping on the floor.

"I got a note." Barba says, looking down at the paper in his hands. "Stuck under my shop's door."

Carisi blinks, non-comprehending.

"The newbies got out of control last night, so we left them in the store, because I don't know where they live." Barba reads aloud. "If they're still there when you open up, make sure they're not dead. Rollins."

Carisi wishes he did die.

"Carisi!" Dodds shouts from the floor. "Shut the door, you're letting in a draft."

"Well." Barba says, folding up the note. "You're both alive. I'll take my leave."

"Uh," Carisi says, before he can rein in his runaway tongue. "Can I get you coffee?"

Barba pauses in the act of turning away.

"On the house." Carisi continues, slightly desperate. "God, I need some coffee."

Barba apparently can't refuse free coffee, because he makes a noise and steps inside. Carisi gratefully closes the door behind him, remembers that he's still wearing Dodds' shirt, goddamnit, tells Barba to make himself at home and turns the lights on. He leans down to shake Dodds.

"Hey. Dodds." He mutters. "Get up, you need to make the stuff, coffee, c'mon-"

Dodds groans and rolls over. Carisi kicks him lightly and heads into the staff bathroom.

He rolls up his sleeves and splashes water on his face, gets some on his shirtfront- god, neither he nor Dodds have spare clothes here anymore- and heads back to the front. Barba is sitting at one of the stools by the front of the counter.

"Awake yet?" Barba says critically. Carisi grumbles assent.

"Dodds." The other man is sitting up, rubbing his face. "Hey, go to your place and get a couple shirts, would ya?"

"Yeah, you owe me two shirts now." Dodds mutters, rubbing his temple. He rifles around in his pockets for his apartment keys. Luckily, he lives only three blocks down, and this is a safe enough area that he won't get jumped for walking around before sunup.

Carisi turns on the coffee machine. He glances apologetically at Barba.

"Sorry," he says, "give it a minute to warm up."

Barba shrugs.

"I don't have that much prep work before I have to open the shop." He says offhandedly.

Carisi frowns.

"But you're here at, like, 5 am every day." He wonders, opening the fridge and looking for something to drink to take the edge off. There's juice for smoothies, and he pours himself a cup, swallowing the entire glass.

Barba doesn't reply. Carisi doesn't register the silence until his brain starts working marginally more because of the sugar in the orange juice and he does, and he looks up.

Barba's flushed. Or maybe it just looks that way in the dim light.

"Uh." Carisi says. "I mean, I guess flowers gotta be checked on too."

"Yes." Barba replies shortly.

Carisi gets the milk out of the fridge and puts it through the frother. Coffee with frothed milk for Barba, two espresso shots with a shot of caramel syrup for him. He slides Barba's drink over the counter and takes a sip of his own- it's still scalding hot, and he grimaces.

The silence is awkward. Carisi tries to dig through his subconscious, through the blaring headache, for a conversation topic, but he's got nothing. He sighs and rubs his temple.

"Do you want some aspirin?" Barba says abruptly.

Carisi blinks and looks up.

"Uh." He says. "What?"

Barba turns his head to the side. His shirt collar tightens around the front of his neck.

"Aspirin." He repeats, fishing a bottle out of his pocket. "I thought... whoever was here might appreciate some."

Carisi stares at him. Barba glances at him. His eyes are green in the low light.

"Oh." Carisi startles. "Thanks. I'll, uh, tell Dodds when he gets back, too."

Barba makes a noise and goes back to his coffee. Carisi hesitantly reaches across the counter, like he's expecting Barba to hiss and bat his hand away like a cat or something, grabs the little white bottle that has his headache relief in it and pops two pills with a gulp of coffee- he's seen those weird studies that say don't mix caffeine and pills, but he'd done it plenty of times in college, so once or twice can't hurt.

"Thanks," Carisi says again, for lack of anything better to say.

"Mm." Barba says. "You guys make the only decent coffee within two blocks, so it's in my best interests to keep you around."

Carisi laughs. It makes his head twinge, but the painkiller and coffee is doing its job.

"Yeah, I'd say somethin' nice about your place, too, but I dunno flowers." He chuckles, and Barba levels a deadpan look at him.

"I'm not surprised." Barba says.

"Hey!" Carisi exclaims, then winces, because his own voice hurts his head. Lowering his voice, he says, "I'm, y'know, classy."

Barba looks at him.

"Sure." He doesn't sound convinced. Carisi frowns.

"Seriously." Carisi insists. "Any fancy coffee-drink you can think of, I can make it. I might not know flowers, but I know coffee-"

The bell above the door jingles, and Dodds walks back in.

"Hey." He says, interrupting Carisi and Barba's stare-off. "Clothes, Carisi."

He tosses a change of clothes to Carisi behind the counter- light blue, standard collared shirt, and black slacks- and strides off to the bathroom to change.

"God." Carisi groans. "Dodds' clothes are too big."

Barba's avoiding his eyes. He looks like he has something on the tip of his tongue, but doesn't want to spit it out. Carisi glances at him, then away again.

Dodds comes back out of the bathroom.

"Is there coffee?" He mutters. "My head hurts."

"Yeah, and painkillers, courtesy of Barba." Carisi gestures at the counter, where Dodds' usual- milk coffee with hazelnut- sits next to the little white bottle Barba had brought.

"Thanks, Barba." Dodds sighs. Carisi takes his turn changing in the bathroom, tries as hard as he can to tuck the shirt into the pants, even though it's still too baggy, and washes his face again.

He walks back out to see Barba draining the rest of his coffee, saying he has to go- something about flowers and Carmen arriving soon, which Carisi remembers suddenly is the florist's frontwoman's name- and waves him out the door and into the dark street, watching the warm front of his shop light up.

"Y'know, he stopped chatting when you went to change." Dodds remarks. "Should I be offended?"

Carisi scowls at him.

~~~~~~

It's not until later that Carisi remembers he had never told Barba his name, yet the other man had addressed him as "Carisi". Despite Rollins not naming names in the note.

Maybe Olivia had mentioned him. He tries to let it go.

~~~~~~

Noon can't come fast enough.

"Fuck you," Sonny says. Rollins laughs at him.

"Hey, you fell asleep halfway down the street." She snorts. "I don't know where your apartment is, what am I supposed to do?"

"Dodds' apartment is only, like, three blocks from here, you know." He grumbles. "You coulda dropped me there."

"I didn't know that." Rollins shrugs, still smiling.

"Not funny." Carisi crosses his arms.

~~~~~~

Carisi isn't working morning shift the next day, so he sleeps in, restocks his fridge, goes for a run- his apartment is empty, but whenever he wants company, he goes to the coffeehouse or Bella's apartment. Or, hell, Staten Island.

He walks into the coffeehouse for his afternoon shift markedly less tired, without a headache. Rollins tells him to wipe the dopey grin off his face.

"That's just how my face is," Carisi protests.

Rollins and Fin take off, and it's up to Carisi and Dodds again.

It's a slow hour. By 3 pm, the lunch rush is over, and Carisi leans over the counter, chewing on a toothpick.

The bel jingles again, and Carisi looks up- it's Carmen, looking gorgeous as ever.

"Hey, Carmen." Dodds says.

"Hey, Mike." She smiles. "Two coffees, please, the usual."

Carisi starts on Carmen's regular immediately- black, strong, sweet with vanilla syrup for winter, and something iced, blended, minty in the summer- but hovers over Barba's. He thinks to their conversation yesterday.

"Carmen." Carisi says, looking at her. "Think Barba would kill me if I changed his order up a bit?"

Carmen looks at him.

"It's your grave." She shrugs, smiling. Carisi laughs.

"My treat. In case he gets grumpy over it." He says, and now that he's been given free reign, he scrawls Barba's name on a cup and thinks it over. Barba orders non-sweetened with frothed milk every time, which smacks of someone who hates to lose routine. He decides to find a happy medium. The same dark roast Barba prefers, a light pump of mint syrup, hot milk, and whipped cream- nothing complicated, but enough to test the waters of change. He caps it and smiles to himself.

~~~~~~

Carmen comes back twenty minutes later with a note.

"A note?" Carisi says incredulously. "What is he, five?"

Carmen rolls her eyes.

"You're lucky it's slow at the shop, and I agreed to deliver it." She sighs. "I'm not an errand girl."

"Right." Carisi says. "Muffin? My treat."

He's been buying a lot of stuff for the flower shop across the street recently. He tries not to think about it, or the hit his paycheck's gonna take.

Then again, working at Liv's shop has better pay than most coffee shops around the city.

~~~~~~

Carisi,

I don't know what compelled you to change my order. It wasn't objectionable. Free coffee is certainly not objectionable.

Barba (212)483-2848

~~~~~~

Carisi texts Barba later that day.

"Not objectionable?" he says.

"Carisi." Barba replies.

"Am I the last one to get your number?" Carisi asks.

"Except for Dodds." Barba says. "Rollins texts me when there's spare scones."

"Sweet of her." Carisi laughs.

~~~~~~

The next day, Carisi's working morning again. He sees Barba pulling his carts and displays out to the front again, explosions of color muted in the navy blue of the early morning.

Dodds sets another pan of cookies on the counter, moving them to the glass display case. Carisi inhales blissfully. His hand sneaks over to the tray.

"Hey." Dodds glares at him.

Carisi scoffs.

When he looks up again, Barba is looking directly into the window, at them. He raises his hand and waves. Barba doesn't wave back, but turns back to his flowers. Carisi wonders what it would be like to get a bouquet from Barba.

~~~~~~

Carmen comes in a little before noon, before Rollins comes to relieve Carisi, and he tries not to jump like he's been waiting for her.

"Hey, Carmen!" He exclaims, grinning.

"Carisi." Carmen smiles wryly. "You should've seen the look on Mr. Barba's face when he tasted your drink."

"You didn't tell him?" Carisi laughs.

She winks and shakes her head.

"Something new today?" She asks.

Carisi grins at her, and the noon rush is starting to come in but he wants to make Barba's drink, first. Today: caramel, chocolate, medium roast, frothed milk. It's nice to have someone he can guinea-pig his drinks on. He doesn't know by what twist of fate it's the hot florist from across the street, who, a week ago, didn't even know his name.

~~~~~~

"Decent." Barba texts. "Needs more of a kick."

Carisi snorts.

"Spicy?" He replies. "Didn't take you for that kinda guy, Barba."

~~~~~~

The next day: horchata mocha coffee with cinnamon and a dash of chili powder after browsing the internet for mexican mole recipes.

The day after that: mango, passionfruit, hazelnut. The sweetest yet, but Barba doesn't complain. He has a sweet tooth, according to Carmen.

And after that: honey, blueberry syrup, classic dark roast. It smells like flowers and coffee, and Carisi almost laughs, wondering if Barba can even smell it because he spends all day with his flowers.

~~~~~~

"Why don't you send him something back, boss?" Carmen smiles. Barba scoffs.

"It's nothing." He says. "A convenient arrangement. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's seeing Dodds."

Carmen pauses.

"Dodds." She says. She follows Barba's motions with her eyes.

~~~~~~

Two weeks of exchanging coffee and texts, and Carisi's been watching Barba from the window of the shop every morning he's on duty. He props his cheek up on his palm. At least Liv's back from vacation, pushing paper in her office. Fin sucks at managing finances.

"Jesus." Dodds comes up behind him, covered in flour as always. "Just ask him out, Carisi. This is getting painful."

"Hey." Carisi protests. "You took, like, a month to ask Alice to marry you."

"Yeah, because that's a lifelong commitment, not 'hey, wanna get coffee somewhere that's not here?'" Dodds deadpans.

Carisi sighs.

"As if." He bites into a scone.

Dodds glances at him.

"He's a single florist." He says incredulously. "Carisi-"

"Alright, alright. Jeez," Carisi interrupts, standing up and waving his hands at Dodds, "if you're giving me advice, my life must really suck."

~~~~~~

"Barba thinks what?" Dodds says, shaking his head. "Jesus, he and Carisi are a perfect match. Can't read the situation at all."

Carmen shrugs.

"That's my boss," she says, heaving a sigh. "He keeps shooting down people who insist on using weirdly obscure flower language in their bouquets, because it looks awful."

Dodds snorts.

"Well." He replies. "Tell Barba that I'm happily engaged, thank you very much."

~~~~~~

Barba comes in to get his coffee in person, one day.

"Barba." Liv says, behind the counter. "Where's Carmen? The usual?"

Barba blinks.

"Liv." He says. "Carisi usually works Monday mornings."

Benson narrows her eyes.

"Good morning to you, too." She says, a smile sliding up her face. "Looking for Carisi?"

"Not in particular." Barba lies.

"Dodds tells me you get along well." She continues.

"He's mistaken." Barba grumbles. "No need for him to get jealous."

Benson frowns.

"Jealous?" She asks.

"Aren't they together?" He snorts.

She bites back a laugh.

"Dodds? And Carisi?" She can't stifle her chuckling. "Barba, you know Dodds has been engaged for around three months, right?"

Barba blinks.

"Dodds and Carisi are engaged?" He asks, and Benson levels a disbelieving look at him.

"I don't know how you can pull out all those fancy rhetoric explaining why our street should get re-paved, but not have a social bone in your body." She sighs. It's not even that he's bad with people- Barba just doesn't like them. He's abrasive and snippy. He could be a real force to be reckoned with if he put in his pound of flesh with societal niceties.

Barba stares at her. He's drawn the conclusion himself.

"Carisi took a sick day." Benson smiles. "He has the flu."

~~~~~~

"The flu?" Barba texts.

"Worried about me?" Carisi replies within ten minutes.

"Sure." Barba says, sarcastic. "Maybe I'll go ballroom dancing with a panda tomorrow, while we're on the subject of unrealistic situations."

"Categorical denial, Barba?" Carisi laughs. "Thou dost protest too much..."

"Didn't know you could read classics." Barba snarks. "Out of character?"

"Offensive." Carisi replies. "I'm very educated, thank you."

~~~~~~

"I think Barba likes you." Rollins raises her eyebrows at Carisi.

"Fat chance." Carisi scoffs, wiping down the counter, ignoring how the idea makes his heart flutter in his chest. Rollins has taken Dodds' shift today, because she wanted the overtime. "Besides, how d'ya know he's not straight?"

Rollins looks at him.

"I'm going to forget you said that, because I don't believe in stupid questions." She says. "And it took me, what, three months for him to even work with me? A week after he starts talking to you, you're texting and making him custom coffee."

"Hey, I offered to make you guys custom coffee too." Carisi objects.

"Just go for it." Rollins tilts her head to the side. "Maybe if Barba were getting it on a regular basis, he'd be less pissy."

"Jesus, Rollins." Carisi groans.

Rollins puts her hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"I'm just saying!" She exclaims, smiling. "I've been here since he moved into the shop. He's never dated, never comes to street hangouts, doesn't socialize with the neighbors unless he gets something out of it. And now," she shrugs, "he texts you for coffee every day."

~~~~~~

When Carisi comes in to open up the next day, there's a vase of flowers on the counter.

"Uh." Carisi says. "Dodds?"

"Yeah." Dodds calls from the back room, where he's making the dough again.

"Where did these come from?" Carisi asks hesitantly. He locks he door behind him.

Dodds pokes his head out of the doorway to the back room.

"Barba dropped them off." He says. "Says he felt bad about getting free coffee all the time."

Carisi scoffs.

"Sure." He unlocks the register. "Barba, feeling guilty about something."

"Unless you want to believe there's another reason." Dodds says, and there's a light tone to his voice. Carisi scowls.

"Lay off." He mutters. The flowers are poking out of a blue ceramic water pitcher Carisi remembers seeing in the storage closet- Dodds must have gotten it out. Sunflowers and ivy and tiny white dewdrops.

~~~~~~

"Thanks for the flowers." Carisi messages. "Unusually generous."

"Unusually?" Barba replies within five minutes. "Should I be offended?"

"Didn't you call yourself an 'antisocial hobgoblin'?" Carisi texts, even though he knows Rollins is the one who brought that up.

Barba doesn't respond.

~~~~~~

Carisi doesn't wait for Carmen that day. Two coffees in hand, he hovers outside the doorway, taking in the colors of the blossoms.

There's a bell above the door. It jingles when he enters.

"I'll be right with you." Barba's voice comes from the back of the room.

"Uh, yeah, no rush." Carisi calls out. The interior of the shop is warm, with winter sunlight flooding in from the front windows, walls painted a light green. Every surface inside the room is covered in bursting blooms of every color.

Barba's head pokes out of behind a row of orange and white flowers.

"Carisi?" He says. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, Liv sent me over to bring coffee." He says, and that's not technically a lie. "She said it's on her today."

"Fantastic." Barba gets up from kneeling on the floor, and god, he is cute in an apron, but Carisi shakes himself before the thought can go any further. "The usual, or one of your concoctions?"

Carisi laughs.

"She made it herself." He says. "Said she almost forgot how to use the machine, between moving up to co-owning the cafe and being on vacation."

"A classic Benson brew." Barba sighs in relief, taking the cup. "Is that for Carmen?"

"Yeah, I made it, thought she might want a pick-me-up too." Carisi replies, looking around. "She out?"

"Making a delivery across town." Barba says, taking a sip.

Carisi shifts weight between his feet.

"So," he says.

Barba looks up.

"Hmm?" He asks.

"I heard you like Broadway," Carisi starts awkwardly. This is an awful, awful idea.

"Occasionally." Barba doesn't give anything away, setting his coffee down and fiddling with what looks like a bouquet-in-progress. It reminds Carisi of a creamsicle, or something, bright orange and soft white petals, accented with greenery.

"Hey, that's cool, New York City and all that." Carisi blusters, and he doesn't know why he's tripping over his words now. Maybe something of what Rollins said yesterday's gotten into his head.

~~~~~~

"What are you doing?" Rollins asks. The door to the bakery in the back room is propped open by a bag of sugar, and Rollins is wrist-deep in a bowl of cookie dough.

"Concentrating." Sonny says, biting on his tongue, trying to remember if he's getting the pour-over technique right. He's a barista, for god's sake, he should be able to do a simple pour-over, but the fact that they have a perfectly good machine combined with his nervousness over trying something even more new with Barba's coffee is starting to get to him.

"That's some hipster shit," Rollins says.

"Yeah, no kiddin'." Carisi mutters. "It's not like we work in a coffeehouse, Rollins."

Rollins shrugs, kneads her dough a little more before turning the bowl upside down onto the stainless steel countertop and dumping it out in a lump, rifling around in the shelf under the counter for the rolling pin.

"Where the hell does Dodds keep hiding the rolling pins?" She complains. She's justified. Dodds has the weirdest habit of rearranging kitchen supplies.

"Try the cabinet above the sink." Carisi suggests, not looking up, arm moving in consistent circles. "Think I should try cold brew this summer?"

"Sure." Rollins says distantly, and there's a banging sound from where she's acting on Carisi's suggestion. "Our clients are hipsters, right? That seems like it would go over well."

"Not so loud, Jesus." Carisi hisses, glancing at the clientele. "Even New Yorkers can hear you talkin' shit about them."

Rollins covers her mouth and shrugs, grinning. Carisi rolls his eyes.

"Anyways." He says, finishing with his pour-over, sighing. "Think I should go with almonds and cream today, or something else?"

"Fancy coffee for Barba again?" Rollins asks. "Why don't you just invite him in here? You could make something other than the standard grande cup size."

Carisi folds his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, that would go well." He snarks. "Hey, Barba, want to come hang out with me? What am I, seven?"

"Carisi, I'm pretty sure that guy would do anything for free coffee." Rollins deadpans.

"That makes it worse." Carisi says, morose. "What if he's just using me for my sweet, sweet access to unlimited caffeine?"

Rollins snorts.

"Yeah, like he needs you for that." She replies. "He's, like, best friends with Liv already."

"Best friends?" Carisi sighs.

Rollins walks over and kicks him in the shin. He yelps.

"Hey!" He shouts. Several customers look up at them but, in true New Yorker fashion, return to their business.

"I'd pat you on the shoulder, but," Rollins trails off, wiggling her sticky fingers in the air. Carisi rolls his eyes and makes a shooing motion.

"Yeah, yeah." He grumbles. "Anyone ever tell you you and Amaro make a great pair? You can go to anger management classes together."

"Hey, what did I say?" Rollins jostles him again. "Me and Nick are over. Never again. He's back with his wife, anyways."

"Sure." Carisi says. Rollins' love life is... enigmatic, and it's best not to fall down that rabbit hole, he's discovered. "I'll take your great advice, Love Doctor Rollins."

Rollins glares good-naturedly at him.

"Don't get sarcastic with me," she scowls. "Anyways, your moping over Barba is getting weird. Just ask him to hang out, Carisi. This isn't high school."

"Barba's an intimidating guy," Carisi replies helplessly.

~~~~~~

Carisi does, though, try to take her advice.

"Want to drop by the shop?" He texts. "Made too much espresso."

"You had me at 'too much espresso'." Barba replies within a minute. Within five minutes, he's wiping his hands on a paper towel and stepping out of the flower shop, untying his apron from the back. Carisi has strategically sent this message around the time he knows Barba and Carmen usually finish straightening up the shop and business lulls. He watches Barba make his way across the narrow street, slotting his hands in the pockets of his coat to keep out the chill.

"Hey, Barba." Carisi says when the bell's sound heralds the other man's opening the door.

"Carisi." Barba says. His nose is pink. It's cute enough to make Carisi flush.

Rollins pokes her head out of the bakery.

"Barba's here?" She exclaims. "You really are whipped, Barba. Carisi, this guy only comes over for free scones."

"And free coffee, thank you." Barba smirks. Carisi wants to choke Amanda with his tie. Just a little.

"Ah, yeah, thanks for comin'." He says instead, adopting a bashful expression. "I was testing some new drinks and it... got out of hand."

He gestures to the twelve cups of varying sizes and shapes scattered around the counter.

Barba raises an eyebrow.

"Just a bit." He chuckles, and Carisi thinks the ridiculousness is worth it to bring a smile to Barba's face. In the next moment, he mentally slaps himself, because that's the stupidest, sappiest, most overreaching thought he's ever had, and he kinda wishes he could scoop out his own brain with a melon baller, but he pushes everything aside and hands Barba a cup.

~~~~~~~

"Barba dropped off flowers for you again," texts Dodds.

"They're not for me," Carisi grumbles, but his chest tightens anyways.

"I don't know why he won't bring them over while you're here," Dodds sighs.

"Because they're not for me," Carisi repeats.

"Take it from an almost-married man," Dodds starts, and the typing symbol stops, and starts, and stops again. Carisi decides to put Dodds out of his misery.

"Alright, alright," he groans, "don't rub it in my face."

~~~~~~

It's almost by fate that Carisi comes into possession of a pair of Broadway tickets.

It's a popular show, Carisi knows, and decent seats, so they can't have been cheap, but when Gina and her newest high-class boyfriend say that they don't need them anymore because they've booked a last minute weeklong getaway to Hawaii, or something. Gina had pressed them in his hand 'cause neither Bella nor Teresa care about musicals in the slightest, and one of the most painful periods of Sonny's life had been his secondary leading role in his high school play.

"Hey, Barba." Carisi writes. "Heard you like Broadway."

He deletes it.

"I have some tickets to a play," he writes, "do you want to come with me?"

He deletes it.

"If I take you to a play, would you let me call you Rafael?" He writes.

He deletes it.

"I wish the flowers you bring to the coffeehouse were for me," he writes.

He deletes it.

God, Carisi thinks. Forget high school. This is the most shameful period of his life.

~~~~~~

"Hey, Carmen." Carisi strikes up conversation, pouring her and Barba's drinks. Double espresso, a splash of half-and-half, a teaspoon of raw sugar, frothed milk. "D'yknow if Barba's seen that hit new Broadway show?"

Carmen looks at him.

"I don't think so." She says. "He mentioned wanting to see it, but not having the time."

Carisi hands her the coffees.

"Have... you been paying for Barba's coffee this whole time?" She asks, laughing, handing him the change for her drink. She insists on paying for herself. Carisi flushes.

"No." He says. "I mean, I have an employee discount, and it's not that much, and sometimes Liv says don't worry about it, 'cause she owns the place and she's cool with it and she buys him coffee too, sometimes-"

Carmen holds her coffee-filled hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright." She chuckles. "I'll... surreptitiously ask if Mr. Barba wants to go see that show with you."

"I- I didn't mean." Carisi says miserably. Carmen turns and walks out, still smiling. Carisi wants to die, just a little.

~~~~~~

Ten minutes later, Carisi gets a text.

"He hasn't seen it," Carmen says.

"..." Carisi sends.

A pause.

"Thanks, Carmen." He says.

~~~~~~

Carisi doesn't know what Carmen has told Barba, but Barba pushes open the coffeehouse door with his arms bursting with flowers. Carisi blinks.

"Barba?" He says.

Barba stares at him.

"This might be overkill," Barba says to himself, like he thinks Carisi can't hear. He almost turns around.

"Uh, are those for the shop?" Carisi supplies.

Barba looks back at him.

"...yes." He says. "Yes, I mean, you keep buying me coffee. Yes. These are for... the shop."

Barba sounds... off. His eyes are a little wide, a little wild.

Carisi frowns.

"Are you alright, Barba?" He asks, and it's lucky that it's slow right now, coming off of the noon rush. Carisi steps around the counter and takes some of the flowers from Barba's arms- they really are gorgeous, health clips of every color, ivy spilling out from his elbows.

Barba's face has gone pink. He's still wearing his apron. Carisi is hit with the sudden urge to pull on the strings.

"I-I'm fine." Barba says in a rush.

"Uh, alright." Carisi says. "Here, I think we have some vases-"

One arm full of flowers, Carisi makes his way to the supply cabinet, pulling out half-a-dozen odd ceramic pitchers of all colors and shapes, pulling the blossoms into bunches and slotting them in the makeshift vases, filling each with water. Barba follows him uncharacteristically quietly behind the counter.

"They're beautiful." Carisi says.

"Yes, they are," Barba agrees, looking at the jumbles of brightly hued flora bursting from every available container.

Carisi turns to him.

"Hey, Barba." He starts, his mouth moving ahead of his brain, like it always does, like he doesn't even know what he's doing before he's doing it. "I got tickets for that musical this weekend, d'ya wanna come with me?"

Barba stares at him.

"The- the one on Broadway?" He asks.

"Yeah." Carisi says, mussing his hair self-consciously. "My sister got 'em, and-"

"Sure." Barba interrupts him, still watching him. Carisi blinks, dumbfounded.

"Really?" He says, giddiness starting to swell sweetly in his chest.

Barba breaks eye contact. He huffs, glances back at Carisi and away again.

"Yes." He replies. "I've been meaning to go, anyways, and it's not like your coffee is half-bad-"

"Wait," Carisi is the one to interrupt, "Barba, you know I'm asking you on a date, right?"

Barba chokes.

"I-" He starts, and seems to think better of it, breaking out into incredulous chuckles. "You're unique, Carisi."

"You brought me flowers," Carisi says helplessly.

"Pick me up at six," Barba smiles.

~~~~~~

Barba looks good.

Carisi blinks.

Barba tugs on the edge of his cuff, and he has the kinds of shirts that need cufflinks- Carisi suddenly feels self-conscious in his off-the-rack suit.

"How d'you afford your wardrobe on a florist's salary?" He wonders aloud, and Barba snorts.

"Should I be flattered or offended?" Barba asks, straightening his tie, and Carisi flushes in embarrassment.

"Uh." He starts. "Flattered?"

Barba levels him with a look. Carisi laughs.

"You look good," he says.

"I know I do," Barba says.

Carisi might have felt self-conscious, but Barba walks right up next to him, glances up into his eyes, and brushes down his lapel, taps him on the elbow, and they catch a cab to the theater.