#this resulted from me wondering how he could simultaneously wear a bow tie and an ascot without it looking crowded

[herringherringbones]

possibly how Vox's outfit works

[rauliskafan]

The Start of a Symphony

Something sweet for @svu-stories!!! Because she’s fabulous!!! Hope you all enjoy catching up with The ADA and the Caterer!!!

“You heard the doctor, Rafael. I am not budging on this.”

Your husband rolled his eyes, and a low grumble hit the air as you clicked your tongue and cut up a few vegetables.

“I was fine just a few months ago,” he argued.

“Time catches up with all of us,” you countered. “And as of this minute, your cholesterol is through the roof.”

“Maybe they got the results wrong,” he said, his long fingers picking at the frayed edge of a dish towel until you gently swatted them away.

“Or maybe someone’s been spending too much time around the food trucks when I know I’ve been packing you salads,” you shot back. And what salads they were. Beautiful bouquets bursting with leafy greens and ripe red tomatoes and onions sliced just so. Just the way that he liked them. Add a little oil and vinegar, and each serving was a masterpiece worthy of the finest restaurant in the city. And far superior fare to greasy egg and cheese and sausage sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and sometimes dinner sprinkled with an unhealthy helping of red hots and soft pretzels. Corn muffins if he was claiming to be good and living well.

The test results clearly showed that both ideas were wishful thinking.

“The salads have not gone to waste,” he promised you, glancing at the lettuce and carrots you were preparing for right now as you simultaneously worked of a lasagna for tomorrow’s gender reveal party on the Upper West Side, the sort of occasion that always made you just the smallest bit sad.

“How’s that?” you asked. “Do you make them an appetizer before your main course of far too much sodium for my liking?”

“Not at all,” he said, and you looked over your shoulder. That tone. His voice like velvet with the faintest shade of venom. It was a sound that allowed him to conquer a courtroom with one look and several assorted smiles. Learning to read it took you some time. By now you knew him well enough that the velvet was the true texture of his heart, and the so-called villainy an act all for show. Still, you sucked in a sharp breath and wondered what type of opening argument he was about to lay out.

“Well?” you asked with your hands on your hips in the wake of his silence. “Where do they all go?”

“Carmen gives her compliments to the chef,” he teased, laughing and dropping his head in search of your lips. But you swiftly swirled away before he could capture a kiss and slammed your palm on the counter top.

“I’m not cooking for Carmen, Rafael” you said. “Her cholesterol is of no concern to me.”

“Aw! She’d be hurt to hear you say that,” Rafael joked, trying to kiss your cheek.

“Not as much as I’d be if something happened to you.”

Maybe it was too far away to warrant being real. Maybe it was a fatalistic flight of fancy better left under the covers. Or better yet brushed aside when shaking out the blankets or fluffing the pillows. But you did think about it from time to time. In this day and age… in his line of work… how could you not?

“Mi amor…

“Stop it,” you said, still trying to avoid his touch even as the nearness of him and the fading scent of that morning’s cologne were beginning to wear down your defenses…

…and the battle was all but lost when you caught a glimpse of his green eyes under his wiggling eyebrows.

“Please,” he said. “Don’t make a big thing about this,” He moved gracefully to slide his arms around your waist. Sinking into his touch was easy, was habit, like something you did without so much as a second thought. Like breathing. So too was the taking of his hand as your spoon fell and you stopped stirring. Fiddling with his fingers, you leaned into his chest, felt his kisses trailing down your neck.

But there was also the tiny tummy just begging to burst through the buttons of his vest.

“A big thing is exactly what we don’t want,” you said, twisting around in his backwards embrace to grab his face and properly meet his eyes.

“It’s nothing,” Rafael insisted.

“There are several words that we could use to describe it. But nothing… not a chance.”

Rolling his eyes again, he still failed to relinquish any of his hold.

“Maybe I just need to jog a little more or—”

“Like that’s happening with your current caseload,” you said. Two of your fingers made their way towards his hair, and you twirled a few of his short, dark locks shimmering with flecks of silver only to be heightened when the moonlight truly invaded the apartment and all lights were extinguished.

“You have an answer for everything,” he quipped.

“I have a marriage’s worth of knowing that you will run one morning out of thirty in a month. If that.”

“Then I’ll just have to find… other ways to exercise.”

You caught his meaning and quickly squealed when he lifted you up and pushed your bowl aside. Settling you on the counter top, Rafael began to undo the buttons of your blouse, and you shivered at the feel of his fingers dancing around your breasts.

“Other… other ways?” you breathlessly asked.

“Why not?” he said. “Get a pretty good workout right here.”

His lips smacked against yours, and you stumbled from one surface towards another as he carried you through the air, and you giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Jingles glowered from the corner and hid her tiny head of pointed ears under her paw.

“We’re bothering… someone,” you said after Rafael kissed you again and sat you on the edge of the table.

“Oh?” he quickly asked.

“I think we’re embarrassing her,” you mused as he reached for the loose bow keeping your apron in place. With one tug, the red and blue fabric fell to the floor, and he hitched up your skirt, his palms centered on your quivering thighs as he nuzzled your nose.

“She’ll be fine,” he promised as he pushed a few sheets of paper away. They spilled to the ground like a sudden snowstorm of case law and casserole recipes, and you sighed when one of his skillful hands slid under your skirt, his fingers pressing into the cotton and then under your panties until he was so close to slipping inside you. He got off on this, teasing your skin and keeping you at bay. Your back felt as if it might give out despite the tabletop, and you scooted closer, ready to have the argument tomorrow or at least later that same night when the sound of your phone singing with the voice of wind chimes was to strong to ignore.

“Let me—”

“They’ll leave a message,” Rafael panted, and you were in no position to argue. Instinctively, you shed his vest and his tie, started to lower his suspenders when the sound of a second set of rings caused you to sigh, and your head fell to his shoulder.

“It might be important,” you murmured, disentangling yourself from his hugs so desperate to keep you close and kissing his neck as you hopped off the table and started for the other side of the room.

“So much for my attempt at exercise,” he said. You looked back briefly to see him fall to the nearest chair, his desire for a workout still obvious in his pants, and you laughed out loud.

“Oh no,” you warned. “I’m seeing what this is all about. Then we’re making up a meal plan for the rest of the week. And then…”

When you winked it made him smile, but you knew that he would fight you on the former to reach the latter even faster. Maybe you could be swayed. After all, it was still a workout, and with his hands, his body… you would both most certainly break a sweat while you screamed out his name.

“Hello? Yes. Hi.”

The voice on the other end of the phone greeted you warmly and apologized for the calls in rapid succession, for failing to leave a message.

“No it’s fine,” you assured the caller. “I… I’m guessing that this is important.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you listened intently without so much as blinking. As the words sank in, you thought you felt your head nod. You knew that you didn’t speak. At some point, Rafael must have sensed the silence because his shadow poured over you, his scent so close again.

And you reached for his hand as you finally said something.

“Yes. Yes, I understand. Next Tuesday then. I… we’ll be there. Thanks for calling.”

Letting the phone drop, you stood in a daze for what felt like an eternity and a split second all at once.

“Mi amor?”

Rafael walked around to face you. His hands were on your shoulders, and he shook you gently until you focused on his green eyes and the mass of worry lines suddenly adorning his furrowed brow.

“Who was that?” he asked. “What’s happened?”

“I…”

How to even explain it? What were the right words? Unsure and too stunned to search for a description, you shuffled back to the counter top and looked down at the bubbling gravy in the pot.

“This… this shouldn’t even be here,” you said. “It’s not on your diet.”

“My diet?” he echoed. “Is that why you’re… look I’ll try harder. Eat every single salad that you make. But you don’t have to be like…”

His hand was on your arm, his touch pausing as he curled his fingers around that limb.

“You're shaking,” he whispered. “Mi amor, who was on the phone? Tell me.”

He steadied your stance and you took in a few deep breaths before looking up at him.

“It’s… it was the reason why you need to stay healthy for a very long time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Rafael… next Tuesday… we’re going to meet our son.”

Now it was his turn to be rendered speechless. How many long weeks and meetings that always felt as if they were roads to nowhere? How many false starts only to be bogged down in the thickest of limbos, fearing that there was never a way to ascend to any version of heaven? You and he tried not to talk about it as you went on with your lives. You wondered if all the work and the wishing would ever amount to any kind of complete joy.

But now…

“Our… our son?” he whispered. You nodded into his neck as he sighed into your hair, his tears mingling with yours, both sets sliding down your cheeks until he pushed back and peered at you hard.

“So that was… she finally had good news?”

“The best,” you answered. Together your breaths came hard, not account of any workout but because the clouds to purgatory had parted, and there was a heaven in reach, a perfect paradise that you could see and almost touch. Rafael screamed out your name as he lifted you up off the ground as if you were a feather and twirled you around the apartment. With each spin, you cradled his cheeks and kissed his hair and finally lingered against his lips. The sound of Jingles leaving her hiding spot and making a quick beeline for the bedroom made you laugh as your husband kept you in midair. And you lovingly caressed his face.

“She’s going to have to get used to a lot of new sounds,” you said.

“We all will,” he agreed. “But it’s going to be music to everyone’s ears.”

Holding him close as your feet hit the floor, you nodded into his neck again. The sweetest song. The start of a symphony that you and he would compose together.

“I… I don’t even know what do first,” you confessed.

“I do,” he replied. You caught a gleam in his eye that seemed to suggest returning to the table or making your way to the sheets by way of celebration. But to your surprise, he just took a bite of the half-finished salad.

“Time to take care of myself so we can take care of our boy.”

And at that you hugged him again, wishing that the week would fly by so your family could flourish by way of a brand new Barba in the bunch.