#stalfaro

"You've done UC work, right?" Alfaro asks.

Rocker nods. "Few times."

"You ever…" He's not sure how to ask this without opening up floodgates he's kept tightly shut. "You ever manage to—" He clicks his tongue and looks away. There's no subtle, hypothetical way to phrase any of this. "Do the relationships ever survive?"

Rocker gets this thoughtful look on his face, and he moves to sit on the coffee table. "I'm not gonna lie to you, kid. In many ways it's worse than starting from scratch. But you already did with this guy once already, didn't you?"

Alfaro must look surprised because Rocker adds, "I saw the file. I saw how you tried to save him five years ago."

Does Rocker know? Does he understand? "I just didn't think he belonged in that life, just because he was born into it."

Rocker gives him a look that almost screams 'don't bullshit me, kid'. "If he doesn't hate your guts right now, I think you have a good chance."

"I don't think he hates my guts right now, or at least, not permanently." Alfaro thinks of the last time he saw Stefan, the way Stefan reached out and Alfaro for a split second thought he was going in for a kiss. No, he didn't think that, he knew exactly what Stefan was doing, but for a second Alfaro hoped. He wanted. And that want was the scary part. Under other circumstances, if Stefan had tried to kiss him, Alfaro would've gently let him down. Flattered, but straight. And they'd chuckle nervously, live with the awkwardness for a while, then be over it.

Alfaro isn't over it.

Rocker smiles. "Then go get your guy," he says, scrunching his nose up momentarily, as if sharing a secret. They are sharing a secret, and Alfaro's heart stops when he realizes it's not just him that knows anymore.

What secrets is Rocker holding that he can suss out Alfaro's so easily? Maybe Alfaro made it easy for him.

He just nods, rubs his palms along his knees, wiping moisture on his pants, and stands up. "Thanks, Rocker."

"Anytime, kid," Rocker says.

Alfaro tries not to run back to holding, not wanting anyone to ask him why he's in a rush. Running at SWAT HQ without workout clothes is almost never seen as a good sign. His heart in his throat, he asks the guard to let him in.

Stefan is sitting where Alfaro left him, against the wall, head tilted back, waiting for the hand of fate to decide his future. Resigned. Seeing Alfaro, Stefan lifts his head and looks at him, an unspoken question in his eyes.

Alfaro steps around to the corner. He knows there are cameras, but at least in the corner the guard outside won't see. "I meant it, when I said this was real," he says quietly. "Whatever this is."

Stefan sits up a little straighter, following Alfaro with his eyes. There's bemusement there, maybe a little fear of the unknown. He takes Stefan's hand, shoves the piece of paper he grabbed on the way into it. "Memorize my number in case they take this from you," he says. "And you call if you need anything. If you need me." Alfaro doesn't blink, staring into Stefan's eyes, willing him to understand what he's saying. "It's not going to be another five years before we see each other again."