No Offense Counselor, (Part 1?)
This is based off of a short scenario I’ve had in my head all day. Barba is obviously very reserved in his own emotions and feelings. I wanted the reader to blow up on him about bugging her about the age difference.
Also, I highly recommend getting the y/n extension for fanfiction; it’s great.
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Two months on the job, so far you've seen rape cases, child abuse cases, and even a circus related sex trafficking case.
"Y/N." Liv called from her office.
She gestured her hand, giving the now familiar signal. You stood up from your desk and walked into her office. In her office were pictures of Noah, some paper work, Liv herself, and ADA Barba.
You met Barba a few months ago on a child trafficking case, but you've never shared more than one or two sentences. As a new cop, you weren't super involved in the action or have had enough experience in SVU to be used in a testimony.
"You've met Mr. Barba before haven't you?" Liv asked.
"It's nice to see you again counselor."
He nodded, avoiding eye contact. Liv leaned over her desk. She pulled out a medium sized packet of what looked to be print outs from some website chatroom.
"Well, given the circumstances I wouldn't say so. Y/N, you've heard about the death threats on public forums surrounding Barba isn't that right?" Liv asked.
"That's right lieutenant."
"Well since we're still short staffed you'll be assigned to protect Mr. Barba for at least the next twenty four hours, or until TARU can trace the threats."
Barba took a step towards Liv. He placed his hands onto her desk. In a lowered voice he spoke,
"Liv, this is unnecesarry."
"No it's not, and you've received these kinds of threats before." Liv interrupted.
Liv sat down and brushed some papers aside.
"Now, obviously Mr. Barba cannot return to his own apartment for security reasons, Y/N, do you have an apartment or place he could stay for the time being?"
You turned the key and pushed the door open. Luckily for you, you finally got around to cleaning up the place yesterday. If this had happened any sooner you and Barba would be drowning in laundry and old boxes of chinese food. Barba hasn't said a word since you two left in your handme down 2006 Honda Civic. Maybe he was judging your poor sorry ass, or maybe he didn't want to admit to feeling worried about the threats on his life. Either way, you decided that you didn't want to be the first to speak up. Social anxiety aside, you were starting to get used to putting on a cop persona. Normally you could speak with ease while on the job, but now you found yourself having difficulties. After all, he was much older than you. And worse still you found him attractive. Whenever talking to someone that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside you turned into a babbling mess.
"What's your wifi password?" He asked, breaking the silence.
Even while under protection, he's an ADA who needs to get his work done. No matter the circumstances. You imagine that must be stressful.
"Oh, it's uhh, 'shootingstar23'. I didn't pick that it came with the router." You answered.
All you got was a "hm" in response. He still refused to look at you. He sat down at your kitchen table and typed in your password. He didn't even ask for the wifi name, just the password. You suppose that you must be the only one in this building who can afford password protected wifi.
You sat down a few feet away in a mildly beaten up armchair. You placed some paper work onto the coffee table. It was a small packet of forms and things to sign. It was all work related, and as much as you hated paperwork, it gave you an excuse not to make conversation. Barba always seemed... indifferent towards you. You didn't think it was hatred or even a dislike, but you were new; to him you could be the new Carisi. You made a note not to take it personally.
"So, when did you decide to become a cop?" He asked.
You flinched a little, not expecting his sudden interest in you. He couldn't tell, he didn't even look up from his screen. But you guess after half an hour you could both use a bit of conversation.
"When I was a kid, young, at least." You responded.
Barba continued typing away. His eyes never leaving the screen.
"You're still young aren't you?" He asked..
"I suppose so," You respond, a little frustrated with his increasingly intrusive questions.
The nerve of this man, you swear to god. Somehow it was now even more uncomfortable than before. Could you really get along with this man?
More time had passed before he spoke again.
"I mean, aren't you a little young to be a cop?" Asked Barba.
You let out a long exhale. You knew he was teasing, but something about his comments really got under your skin. You knew it came with the territory of his job, but couldn't he give it a rest?
"Listen, counselor," You turned your head towards him.
"No offense, but fuck you. Honestly, fuck you," You rose from the armchair.
"I have worked hard to get here; harder than most newbie cops. Do you know how long it took me to be taken even mildly serious? Me, a female cop? Everybody has their problems, counselor, including me, including you," Your face began to turn red. You would be embarrased if you weren't suddenly so angry; he really got under your skin. The once cocky smile he wore turned into a look of shock and confusion. For the first time he took his eyes off the screen, focusing on you.
"You're quick to judge, but who do you think is going to take care of you once you're in an old folks home? That's right, the younger generation. The millenials, the gen z kids. I may not have as much experience as my co-workers in the precinct, but I am not as priviledged as you think I am,"
You could feel your lungs and internal organs pumping with adrenaline. What would Liv do when she found out you snapped at ADA Barba? You were assigned to protect him until they could trace the men who were sending him death threats. Now you're throwing a fit infront him. You've lost your cool, and now you're acting highly innapropriately. You take in another breath.
"I grew up in trailer parks surrounded by junkies. My family couldn't afford to get a tv until I was six. Even then we could only afford hand me down Rugrats VHS tapes. I never even touched a computer until I was twelve, a cellphone when I was fifteen, a smartphone when I was seventeen," You could feel puddles of water form in your lowerlid; you were desperately trying not to cry.
"My father, that shitfaced bastard, was never even around. Boo hoo, what a sob story am I right? An absentee father? I fought tooth an nail to get the funds to go to the academy. My sister OD'd a week before I got in," You paused and looked to the floor. Your tears were beginning to force their way down your cheeks.
"So please, counselor, remind me of how young, naive, and priviledged I am. I'm sure you're perfect."
