Chapter Text
Out of all the ways Carisi could have seen himself finishing out the day, this wasn’t exactly near the top of the list.
He signed himself in on a worn clipboard with a thin ballpoint pen chained to the intake window and offered his shield and ID. The guard behind the thick plastic window was disinterested and gave the items little more than a cursory glance before handing them back.
“Who’re you here for, Detective?” the guy asked, boredom sighing from each syllable.
“Rafael Barba,” he answered, lips pursing as he replaced his badge on the front of his coat.
The guard scoffed. “Yeah, you have fun with that.”
Carisi scowled and could only guess what that might mean at this point, with Barba having spent half the day in holding. The man’s temper wasn’t always stellar to begin with — an afternoon behind bars must have rendered him absolutely delightful. A fact Carisi would have to keep in mind as he was led through a heavy locked door to the holding cells, most of which were empty this late on a Friday night.
His escort pointed out the man in question and left him to deal with it, making a passing comment to an officer at the other end of the hall. The man with the keys, Carisi observed, as he moved to stand in front of the man he’d come to collect.
“You know, pride is one of the seven deadly sins.”
Carisi struggled to keep his voice light as he leaned against the bars of the holding cell, peering through them at Barba, who was slumped, forlorn, on the hard metal bench. Barba looked up at him, already scowling, and suspiciously unsurprised to see him there. “I was raised Catholic,” he said, with just a hint of his usual snark. “I’d like to think I remember something as basic as the seven deadly sins.”
“And yet you still refuse to just swallow your pride, huh?” Carisi asked, aiming for rhetorical and missing by a mile, the stress of the day creeping into his voice as he straightened. “It doesn’t take much, Counselor. Pretty sure all you owe is an apology and a small payment and you’d be free to go.”
Barba huffed a sigh and tipped his head back against the wall. “Oh, is that all?” he asked. “Did you come all this way to enlighten me of what I have to do to be released from jail after being held in contempt of court?”
Carisi ignored him. “Honestly, I’m surprised this is the first time you’ve gotten yourself thrown in the slammer,” he remarked conversationally. “Considering you’re not the most respectful under, you know, the best of circumstances.” He shrugged. “Of course, most of the judges in Manhattan are used to it, but you apparently had to go and find the one that wasn’t.”
“The one that was full of it,” Barba corrected lightly, looking up at Carisi. “The one who dismissed all charges against a rapist who all but admitted to committing the crime, just because he didn’t seem to think that a rape had occurred.”
“Which, naturally, meant that you had to yell at a judge in his own courtroom,” Carisi said, a little wryly. “Which flies in the face of the solid nineteen times you told me while I was studying for the Bar that at the end of the day, judges have almost full latitude to do whatever the hell they want in their courtroom.”
Barba’s scowl deepened. “Using my own words against me?” he snapped. “That’s a low move, Detective, even for you. Besides, just because a judge might have full latitude in his own courtroom doesn’t mean he should execute full latitude in his courtroom.”
Carisi tilted his head. “Oh, so now you’re trying to legislate on top of everything else. You announcing a run for state assembly? I can think of less auspicious circumstances…”
He trailed off when Barba rolled his eyes. “Of course not,” he huffed. “But every now and then, someone has to say something, to take a stand, or else nothing will ever change.”
“Ok, but isn’t that what post-court press conferences are for?” Carisi asked with a raised eyebrow. Barba just rolled his eyes again, and Carisi pressed on. “I’m serious, Rafael—”
Barba’s eyes snapped up to his, but instead of looking irritated at the use of his given name, he looked...almost amused. “Trying to appeal to my humanity, Sonny?” he asked with a small smirk. “That’s a losing battle if ever I’ve seen one.”
Carisi ignored him. “You want to say something, take a stand? I’m all for it, Raf. Lord knows something needs to change — I mean, doing this job, you can’t not think that. And I’m—” He hesitated, knowing how what he was about to say would sound, but frankly, these words had built up over years, and now might be his one opportunity to say them. “I’m proud of you for doing what you do day in, day out, and still believing that things can change. I, uh, I admire that about you. A lot. And I’m proud of you for taking a stand, but you gotta know when it’s gonna do more harm than good. Especially since you and I both know that you’re already on thin ice with the DA, and this isn’t gonna help matters. So if you wanna keep doing good and working to change things—”
“Are you planning on getting to the point at any time in the near future?” Barba interrupted, his caustic tone belied by the softness in his expression as he looked up at Carisi.
“If you wanna keep being able to do good and working to change things,” Carisi continued doggedly, “You’ll have to put your damn pride aside and just apologize to the damn judge and pay the fine, Rafael.”
“I did.”
Carisi blinked at him. “You — what?”
Barba sighed. “I already apologized,” he admitted, something sullen in his tone.
Carisi stared at him. “Then why the hell are you still sitting in here?”
“I forgot my wallet.”
“You…” Carisi gaped at him. “You let me think that you’ve been sitting in here with some noble cause when in reality you’re just an idiot who forgot his wallet?”
He was practically squawking by the end of that, and Barba looked torn between insult and amusement. “I didn’t let you think anything,” he said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “You came to the conclusion all on your own.”
“That’s — that’s not the point,” Carisi spluttered. He put his hands on his hips and glared at Barba. “You still let me give that whole ridiculous speech—”
“In my defense, it sounded like something you need to get off your chest,” Barba said innocently.
Carisi’s glare deepened. “Ok,” he huffed, trying desperately to maintain his handle on what little dignity he had left, “so if all you needed was your wallet, why the hell didn’t you, you know, call or something?”
Barba looked away and shrugged. “I called Carmen,” he offered, a little weakly. “She normally has my wallet.”
Carisi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I suppose you forgot that Carmen was on vacation?” he asked. “So, what was your plan? You were just gonna sit in here all night?” Barba seemed suddenly very busy smoothing an invisible wrinkle in his tie and Carisi rolled his eyes. “Or what, did you plan on someone riding in to your rescue?” Barba’s neck flushed red and Carisi gaped at him. “Did you honestly plan on me showing up here?”
Barba stood, meeting his eyes evenly. “I’ve never once planned on you, Det. Carisi,” he said with just a hint of his usual snark. “But there are such things as happy accidents.” Carisi stared at him, not quite knowing what to say, and Barba sighed. “Just — go get my wallet from my office and we can put this entire thing behind us,” he sighed again. “It’s probably locked in the bottom drawer of my desk.”
Though Carisi was deeply tempted to just walk away and let him stew, he settled for squaring his shoulders. “It’s already taken care of,” he said.
Barba’s head jerked up again. “What?”
“It’s already done,” Carisi said, a little sourly. “It was gonna be my big reveal at the end of this, but the mood’s thoroughly ruined now, so. Let’s just get outta here.”
“I’ll repay you, obviously,” Barba offered, as the uniformed officer from the end of the hall appeared with a key and a grin like he had heard the entire conversation, his grin not fading under Carisi’s scowl.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Carisi grumbled, grabbing Barba’s shoulder and steering him out of the holding cell. “Don’t worry about it. I make more than you, remember?”
Barba’s expression went from borderline grateful to downright murderous so quickly that Carisi might’ve laughed — under different circumstances. “And here I thought you showed up here to be my white knight,” he muttered sullenly.
“Clearly you didn’t need a white knight — you just needed an ATM machine,” Carisi shot back.
For a moment, it looked like Barba might laugh at that, but he somehow swallowed it down, along with apparently the remainder of his pride, as he subsequently offered, as they left the local precinct, “Well, white knight or not, at least let me take you to dinner to say thank you.”
Carisi gave him a look. “Did you already forget that you don’t have your wallet?”
Barba rolled his eyes. “Despite not owning every Apple device known to mankind, I’m not quite as big a luddite as you clearly seem to think I am, and there is such a thing as Apple pay, accepted at most restaurants.” He arched an eyebrow at Carisi. “Besides, that’s probably all you were after in the first place, a free meal.”
Even though Carisi knew Barba was joking, he couldn’t quite stop the flush that he could feel spreading across his cheeks, and Barba glanced at him. “What?” he asked, before realization dawned over him. “Oh. Were you — that is, um, were you planning on taking me to dinner after springing me from jail?”
“I had thought about it,” Carisi muttered. “Before you, you know, completely ruined the mood.”
“Well,” Barba said after a long moment, with a slightly knowing smile, “maybe I can make it up to you.”
Carisi just arched an eyebrow at him. “You can sure as hell try.”
It took Carisi three whole blocks of walking together in varying degrees of sullen silence before he had a sudden realization. “Hang on,” he said, his breath fogging in the air as he turned to squint at Barba. “You don’t have an iPhone, do you? Because I was under the impression you were still living in 2009 with a Blackberry.”
Barba scowled at him. “Firstly, the Blackberry is issued by the DA’s office and is the pinnacle of security—”
“Leave it to you to sound offended on behalf of your work-issued phone,” Carisi snorted.
Barba ignored him. “Secondly, just because I refuse to bedeck myself in Apple’s latest offerings, including that truly atrocious thing masquerading as a watch doesn’t mean that I don't have alternate means of payment.”
“Oh yeah?” Carisi said with a smirk. “Like what?”
“Visa checkout, for instance,” Barba said, somewhat haughtily.
Carisi’s smirk widened. “Firstly, isn’t Visa checkout for buying things online?” he asked. “Secondly, does it actually work on a Blackberry?”
Barba’s scowl returned. “That’s not the point,” he said, and Carisi chuckled lightly.
“Sure it’s not,” he said, pulling the door to Forlini’s open and stepping back to let Barba in first. “Don’t worry, Counselor, you can just Venmo me.”
“What the hell is Venmo?” Barba asked suspiciously.
Carisi grinned. “Nevermind,” he said. “I’ll just add it to your tab.”
Barba’s expression darkened and Carisi had to fight back a chuckle as he held the door to Forlini’s open for him. Barba stalked past him with his head held high, which Carisi thought took nerve considering Barba smelled like a holding cell and looked worse for wear after spending several hours in jail.
Still, for all his plans for how the evening was going to go, for all intentions he had when heading to bail Barba out of jail, Carisi’s stomach still gave a nervous flip-flop when Barba corrected the hostess when she assumed more would be joining them.
Not even he could’ve planned for this.
Barba glanced back at him as the hostess grabbed two menus and started to head towards the back of the room, away from their normal spot at the bar. “Coming, Detective?” Barba asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh yeah,” Carisi said, giving himself a little shake. “I’m coming.”
After all, what was it they said about the best laid plans?