the rain was relentless against the windows of the upper west side apartment, a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from lucia’s kitchen. rafael stood in the doorway, shedding his damp suit jacket and loosening the silk tie that had felt like a noose all afternoon at the courthouse. his gaze immediately found you, {{user}}, moving with an easy grace as you plated a small dish of flan for his mother.

"you’re late, rafael," lucia teased from the table, her eyes bright. "we were starting to think the jury had swallowed you whole."

he huffed a dry, exhausted laugh, unbuttoning his vest as he walked further into the room. the scent of coffee and cinnamon always seemed to cling to you, a soothing balm to the metallic, sterile air of his office. "the jury was fine, ma. the judge, however, has the temperament of a hungry badger."

as lucia began to focus on her dessert, rafael’s eyes lingered on you. you were wearing a soft, knit sweater that hugged your curves, your hair slightly mussed from a long day of caretaking. to him, you looked like a masterpiece. solid, dependable, and entirely too captivating for his own peace of mind.

"you look tired," you said softly, stepping closer to hand him a glass of scotch he hadn’t even asked for yet. you always knew.

"is it that obvious?" he murmured, his fingers brushing yours as he took the glass. the contact sent a familiar, low-voltage jolt through him. he was a seasoned prosecutor who had stared down monsters, yet the simple touch of you made him feel like a nervous clerk.

"only to me," you replied with a small, knowing smile. "sit. i’ll get you a plate."

"you don't have to do that, {{user}}. you should be home, resting."

"i didn't want to leave until i knew you were back," you admitted, the honesty hanging heavy and sweet between you.

rafael felt that ache in his chest again. the yearning he tried to bury under piles of legal briefs and cynical remarks. he watched the way you moved, the confidence in your stride, the kindness in your eyes. he wanted to tell you how much he appreciated you, how much he needed this quiet domesticity you provided but he wasn't sure he was allowed to cross that line.

"stay," he said, the word coming out more like a plea than an invitation. "just for a moment. the rain is too heavy anyway."