#barhoun

"--How are your migraines?" She'd asked him, and he almost thought he could hear love peaking through the dripping sarcasm in her voice. God he hated her. That's what made her so perfect. Rita and Rafael. Enemies from heaven. Soulmates from hell. They had met at opening day at Harvard many years ago now, and it was love/hate at first sight. Rita was the only one in any of his classes to give him a real run for his money, and soon enough the two were sharing a tiny one bedroom apartment 15 minutes away from campus. The arrangement was for them to take turns, with one in the bedroom and the other on the couch, just until they could afford a bigger place. That was never going to last though, with both of them complaining so much when it was their week on the couch that they finally gave in a shared the double bed that took up almost the entire bedroom. It wasn't long before other friends caught on, nagging them about whether they were really just friends, or if something more was going on, because well, they did share a bed after all. Rita was there for him when they first got bad. He'd had migraines since his early teens, but they were always manageable with a few painkillers and a good day's rest. It wasn't until his third year of college that they really got bad. When they began knocking him out for three days straight and he'd have no memory of anything leading up to it. The first time it happened he thought that was it. He was dying. But no, just a bad migraine the ER nurse had told him, after Rita had taken him to the hospital, also thinking he was on death's door. He spent the rest of that night sobbing in between bouts of nausea and vomiting, and begging to sink into the floor and make it all stop. Rita held him that night, rubbing circles on his back and whispering soothing words while she ran her hand through his soft brown hair. Rafael often thought back to that night and how lucky he was to be loved by her, to see that soft, loving side to a woman who is usually so cold and borderline cruel. They spent many more days and nights like that over the course of their friendship, and eventual marriage. Rafael, a heap of tears and pain on the floor and Rita holding him and muttering sweet nothings to him in an attempt to make it all easier. He missed that, especially on days like this. While Rita had clearly been joking, trying to get a rise out of him as she often did, Rafael had a feeling she could see the signs. The aura he had felt that morning should have been a sign to take the day off, but of course, Rafael never took a day off work, ever, and especially not during a case like this. As he looked over the headlines on the papers his ex wife had dumped on his desk he felt the throbbing behind his left eye get worse. Despite taking medication for it before he left for work, the migraine kept getting stronger the longer the day went on. Rafael checked his watch. It hadn't been long enough yet for another dose of codeine, and really, he shouldn't even be taking this much, it probably made the migraines worse rather than better. Without thinking, he raised a hand to his forehead, a vain attempt at soothing the now almost unbearable pain. Rita of course noticed this.

“Hm” she acknowledged "the case really is worsening them, huh? What a shame it would be if someone were to use that to their advantage in court.”

The sarcastic comment earned her a glare from the prosecutor, and she backed off slightly.

“Really that bad?” She asked, sounding almost sympathetic.

“Mm” Rafael managed to get out, the pain now at a level that would have once had him out for days, luckily though, after decades of pain like this, he had learnt to push through. He knew Rita wouldn't drop it though. Her once snarky expression now replaced with genuine concern. No matter how hard either of them tried, despite their work killing their once happy marriage, they could not for the life of them manage to suppress the undying love they had for one another.

Now, Rafael noticed, Rita was making her way around to Rafael's side of the desk, gently dragging a chair along with her. She placed the chair next to him, and before sitting down, she strode purposefully across the room to close the blinds, knowing from years of dealing with Rafael's migraines that letting in unnecessary light was possibly the worst thing one could do at this moment. On her way back to her seat, Rita also shut off the overhead lights, and watched as Rafael noticeably sighed with relief. She knew it wasn't much, and his pain was still clearly bad, but the darkness would help. Rita sat in the chair next to her ex husband, and gently placed a hand on his back, and subconsciously, she began rubbing circles, just as she used to back in their college days. She hated to admit it, but she did truly love the man, and she knew he felt the same. If only their ambitions hadn't taken priority, and if only they hadn't let work destroy their relationship. Perhaps if Rita hadn't had the abortion those years ago they would be a happy family of three, or even more, right now. Instead of bickering over cases and plea deals they could be bickering over who would do the dishes that night, and ultimately settle on making the kid (or kids) do it instead. Thinking of this imaginary argument and family that she would likely never have, Rita placed her free hand under Rafael's chin, lifting his face to meet hers. The two met eyes, and against both of their better judgments, they leant forward, locking into a tired, but gentle, kiss. As the kiss depended, for just a moment Rafael's pain felt as though it lifted.l, and Rita felt as though that distant dream of being an old married couple with the man she had loved since day one of college, wasn't so distant after all.

So when Lucy’s birthday rolled around, the priciest item on the list was the two-tier, custom-order cake covered in all shades of pink and vintage-style frills, complete with fondant ballet pumps on top. 

It stood pride of place in the middle of their kitchen counter, blown-out candles still smoldering, among the lunch spread put on by Rafa and his mom; where kids from school, from Lucy’s dance class, and their parents alike helped themselves. Ginny and Marie were keeping themselves busy in a faraway corner of the apartment, holding their plates with one hand and covering their mouths to whisper to each other through the other, noses crinkling with stifled laughter under the cheesy pop their youngest was always singing along to.

And the feeling of bliss it all brought Rita, of everyone she loved in one room, having fun, brought with it all the sense of self she needed some days. All the stability she couldn’t get at their ages, the security and privilege she worked so hard for, only to pass it along.

She sighed lightly, quietly, gazing out at it all from the kitchen. And it got her thinking.

She wouldn’t give up any of it for the world.

Soon enough, the guilt started to creep into the corners of her mind. What the hell was she doing, risking all of this for her?

She still couldn’t bring herself to tell Rafa everything. The time to be upfront about her and Casey had been and gone. Even within the looser boundaries of their own making, it was a violation of his trust that threatened to bring down everything with her. Now all she could do was hope she could clean up the mess on her own, without any of it spilling into her other spheres. There was simply too much at stake to get it wrong. Maybe that was why she was so fearful of their inevitable conclusion.

She didn’t hear Rafa sneaking up behind her, slinking his hands around her waist. She only flinched a fraction until she realized who it was, sinking back into the embrace with a soft breath, her shoulders dropping.

“You okay?” He asked over her shoulder, quietly enough for them to only hear each other behind the crowd.

“I’m fine.” She whispered back, “I just, love the yearly reminder of that time I got my stomach cut open, y’know?”

They looked out into their living room, at little Lucy in her dress-up tiara, dancing in the middle of the rug with her namesake, laughing along with her abuela with the cheesiest grin, complete with the little gap where her most recent baby tooth fell out.

He just held Rita tighter at that, his breath over her ear soothing her. “… Worth it though, right?” He asked.

And obviously, it was.

Their arrangement was unconventional, maybe even controversial, albeit less so now than when they first agreed to it. But it was theirs, something that came to them so naturally, to share and mold and treasure to their liking. They took affection from each other when they needed it, and shared in their affection for others. And still, they managed to pull it off, keeping the watertight image of their happy, nuclear family at the forefront, with two wonderful girls who seemed all the better for it. It just worked.

So she couldn’t help the tiniest smile in her sigh, relaxing further into his arms. “… Of course.”

They stayed like that for a moment, long enough for Ginny to heckle from across the room with a small ‘gross…!’ before they were interrupted by the apartment buzzer.

“Are we expecting anyone else?” She asked, craning her neck to see if he was as puzzled as she was.

“Not that I know of…” He unraveled himself from her, starting toward the hallway. “I’ll go check.”

He wasn’t gone for long before she followed, lingering behind at the threshold of the living room, just overhearing the conversation, just feeling the cool draft from the open door.

“I just wanted to leave this for Lucy—”

“No please, come in say hi. Come in, both of you… Good to see you again.”

"Likewise."

She wasn’t expecting Alex to drop by, carrying a large box wrapped in pink paper and glittery ribbon. But even less so, was she expecting Casey to be right there by her side, her hair tied in a tight ponytail, in jeans and zip-up sweater, smiling and playing the role.

Rita’s mind was catapulted back to that afternoon in the Hamptons just after Christmas. Coming in from the biting cold only to be confronted by the sight of her, sitting with her family, blending in and sticking out all at once, her mere presence threatening to shatter that sanctuary.

Alex and Rafa had gone ahead back into the party, leaving the two of them shuffling awkwardly, even despite Rita’s jaw tightening the more her mind started to spiral. How serious was this? How much did Alex know? How could Casey do this to her?

Her arms folded tightly around herself, glaring at Casey on her way to the staircase. “We need to talk. Now.”

And she didn’t need to look back, with the untimely creaks on the steps following behind her.

The study was stuffy from the rising warmth of the crowd downstairs, from the early spring sun beaming through the window. It was mostly used by Rafa these days, with Rita practically living in the office as of late. It was his laptop closed on the desk, surrounded by his files and his pens and every reminder of his loyalty to their lifelong pact.

All while the woman who threatened to bring it all crashing down hovered by the door, hesitating to close it over while Rita just kept pacing through the room.

It ultimately stayed open just a crack before Casey turned to her, a palm up in an uncharacteristic surrender. “She just said she had something to drop off on our way downtown, I didn’t know we were coming here—"

“I trusted you!” Rita hissed back, whipping around from where she found herself staring out the window. “What the hell are you doing seeing someone else—?!”

Casey’s brows furrowed together, her voice lowering to a grievous, growling whisper. “Forgive me but isn’t that your husband down there in the living room?!”

“My secretary, of all people—!”

The redhead stepped toward her. “If you want to talk about keeping things professional, you do not have a leg to stand on here.”

Rita didn’t recognize the rage bubbling beneath her skin, begging to claw its way out, demanding her hands make fists and hurting her throat from holding back screams. Instead, she screwed her eyes shut to resist temptation, shaking it out of her head.

“… How long?” She asked, her gaze now on the rug beneath their feet.

Casey folded her arms. “I don’t think that’s any of your business—"

“You’ve been fucking me for months, Casey, that makes it my business.”

“… Not that long.” She still somehow managed to shrug it all off, like she wasn’t actively tearing down Rita’s fantasies right in front of her. “Couple weeks.”

So they weren’t together that last weekend they shared in the hotel. The one where they bared more than their souls to one another, where Rita confessed just how terrified she was of risking exposure. And Casey still had the gall to see Alex in response.

“I thought you weren’t looking for a girlfriend?”

“Not from you.” Casey said, a little too pointedly. “That’s not what this is, what we are.” She studied Rita’s expression some more. The pursed lip, the slow, deliberate breathing. “Oh my God, you’re jealous—”

“Oh, please,” Rita scoffed, “that’s pathetic—”

“It’s also true.” Casey quipped, taking in the room that seemed to reject the other woman as much as it did her. She wandered over to the shelves, running a finger through the fine dust that always managed to gather again the minute their cleaner left. “I mean… your husband obviously doesn’t satisfy you, or you wouldn’t be looking elsewhere. But when I do the same, that’s an issue?”

“… I don’t satisfy you?”

She turned back to find Rita’s eyes wide, even from across the room she'd managed to hit a nerve. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

But it had already sent more questions through Rita’s mind in rapid-fire succession. Maybe none of this was genuine after all. Maybe Casey was just that good at pretending she wasn’t after money, and was willing to have some fun of her own in the process of getting it.

Not only was that fragile trust they’d spent months building up finally starting to crack, in an instant it now threatened to shatter all over the floor in the last place Rita wanted to be dealing with it, with her family just meters below their feet. She wasn’t sure she could control herself if she said anymore about it out loud. Not here, and not now.

So they let the air between them freeze over instead, the chill doing battle with the stubborn sunbeam warming Rita’s back.

And that breeze only got stronger when the door swung open further, Rafa tilting his head at the silent scene unfolding in front of him.

“Everything okay in here?” He asked, his eyes squarely on his wife, the deer in headlights.

Casey’s jaw seemed to hesitate in a way Rita found curiously unsettling. In all those months, she’d never seen the redhead at a loss for words. Not in any meaningful, genuine way. She always had the look of someone thinking three steps ahead, whether at her desk in the office or on top of Rita in the bedroom. Even while telling Rita the story of her ex, she didn’t look this exposed.

The young woman was evolving, softening, right in front of her. With a little more time she even might’ve been able to pick out the parts already falling under Alex’s spell. This wasn’t the same woman that sought her out before the holidays.

But none of what Rita was thinking seemed to compel Casey into answering any faster, and Rafa’s eyebrow only raised more in waiting.

“Yes, sorry, I—” she finally eked out, clearing her throat at the spike in pitch. “I was just looking for your bathroom, got a little lost.”

She managed to slip back into character, but Rita knew what she saw.

Rafa’s face remained unchanged, however. His own tone flat, ambiguous. “… There’s one along the hall, you walked right by it.”

Casey nodded, approaching him with a hurried, too casual ‘thanks', and Rita’s heart was unable to beat until she slipped past, through the doorway and out of sight.

The revelations of the last few minutes were making Rita dizzy, the sheer act of the tension leaving her body made her head throb enough to compulsively rub at her temple with the heel of her hand.

He hurried over at the sight, rounding the desk and landing right in front of her. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just…” she sniffed back something she would confidently blame on allergies later, unable to meet his eye. “Bit of a— bit of a headache.” She was murmuring so quietly he had to lean in closer just to hear her, his hand slipping around her waist once more.

“Why don’t you go lay down?”

She shook her head, focusing instead on the stitches over the shoulder of his shirt. “No, no, not with everybody still here—”

“They will all still be here in an hour.” His hands slid up to her shoulders, one rubbing down her arm with the other tucked her hair back. “Just take an Advil, go lay down, mom and I will see to the hyperactive grade-schoolers invading our living room. Okay?”

She was so tempted to melt into his touch, the most familiar anchor in her rollercoaster of an existence. Always there, always grounded. At the end of it all, she could always come home to him.

“Okay…” she finally conceded with the smallest nod, letting herself be led back out of the study. “okay…”

[read in full on ao3]

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