Rafael Barba Oneshots

Whiskey Confidence

Take a turn here onto 57th," Barba demanded from the passenger seat, "It will be a lot faster."

"I am fine the way I am going thank you," you replied as you continued driving down 9th Avenue.

"57th will be faster," he repeated. "Do you want to get there or not?"

"I am driving, okay Miss Daisy?" You glanced his way to see him glaring back at you. "Why don't you go read a book or something?"

He continued to stare at you with contempt in his eyes as you missed the turn he wanted to take. Benson had asked that you accompany him in speaking to a suspect at his place of work. She thought that having both of you there might just fuel his ego enough to force him to slip up.

"Fine," he finally said, "I wouldn't listen to the New York born and bred citizen either."

"You don't drive in this city Barba. I do."

Your working relationship had always been like this. Small quips at one another that usually amounted to nothing but the rolling of eyes from the rest of the squad. It never came from a place of malice but rather frustration at the job at hand and a mutual appreciation for sarcasm. You were both able to use your quick wit to create a back and forth banter that may have bordered flirtation but never crossed the line. You were still professional enough to keep it workplace appropriate.

"You know, Miss Daisy would never be driven around without some music to accompany the trip," Barba said, straitening up in his seat wriggling his shoulders. "What have you got?"

Smiling you reached over to turn the radio on accepting his request.

It was a waste of time. You didn't find out any more than you already knew and you hadn't found a way to catch him in a mistake. Barba however, was still so certain that you would find a way to put the perp behind bars. You were not so sure. As you both exited the building you lost yourself in the confidence that radiated from him with every step that he made. He was mad and determined, two things that only added fuel to his already burning fire. He showed absolutely no concern for the situation at hand and you were in awe.

"Hey," he said finally noticing you staring at him. "We will get him. I will get him."

"Where do you get this confidence from?"

"Six cups of coffee per day with the occasional whisky."

"Right. That's a diet I could get used to."

"Well it is late," he asked after a moment of hesitation. "Does Liv want you back? We could fill our whisky quota for the day."

You checked the time taking the opportunity to hide your face feeling your cheeks redden. Composing yourself you looked up to find him awaiting your answer. "No, I think she will be fine. I'll just text her."

By 8:30 you had found yourself sitting in a small booth in a bar that Barba had referred to as having 'the best whisky in Manhattan'. You were pretty sure it was the same as any other whisky at any other bar in the city but you took his word for it. Taking your first sip he watched you intently waiting for your reaction.

"Well?" he asked.

"Yes, I can confirm. This is in fact whisky."