all credit to @/ElwritesFanworkson archive of our own. this is not my work, the amazing author wrote this.
this one is a little different...
"We are officially approaching the first hour mark. Delightful."
Barba didn't bother trying to keep his emotions in check, didn't mask the annoyance in his voice as he spoke. While not a claustrophobe, he wasn't happy; no sane person would be after being stuck in an elevator for fifty-five minutes. Being stuck in said elevator with the person one had been dangerously close to punching before the doors failed to open, was adding insult to injury. He paced, irritable and increasingly anxious, checking his phone every few minutes with a sinking heart as time ticked by.
Amaro, on the other hand, was silent and still. He'd bitten off his tirade the minute the doors jammed, and was now content to sulk and glare at them until they opened again. It was better than making small-talk with the ADA, as far as he was concerned.
"Oh, by all means, Detective, stand there and pout. You know, you could try getting a signal."
Amaro looked over, the heated anger not quite gone from his face.
"If you can't get one, then I can't, either. The walls must be messing with it."
"Well, fantastic," Barba snapped. He walked over to the doors. Turned. Walked back. Turned.
"Do you have to keep pacing?"
Nick's tone betrayed his annoyance.
"Unlike some people, I actually enjoy having something to do. If you can think of something more productive than pacing to get us out of here sooner, I'm all ears," Barba replied, but stopped his pacing in favor of standing in the farthest corner from Nick and tapping his foot against the ground in a fast, impatient rhythm.
Nick tried to ignore the counsellor fidgeting a few feet to his left. He wasn't enjoying being trapped either, but, unsurprisingly, it seemed like all Barba was worried about was his own inconvenience. It's not as if detectives had things to do, places to be. Not anywhere as important as whatever engagement was making Barba so twitchy.
It must be driving the ADA crazy, not being in control, Nick thought with an inward smirk. If he ignored his own frustration at not being able to get on with his work, the cop had to admit that the reality of Mr. Hotshot Lawyer trapped in an elevator was pretty funny. He allowed himself the satisfaction of knowing that at least he was getting to watch Barba squirm.
Huh. He was squirming a lot, actually. Not figuratively, either, but like, literally squirming, like he was trying to resist scratching an itch or something.
"Hey, if you need to pace, then pace," Nick said, and for a second, Barba looked at him, pale with horror, as if he'd misheard. Then he reddened considerably and shook his head.
"No, no. I'm fine," he muttered, and cleared his throat. Nick furrowed his brow.
That was pretty strange. A thought occurred to him.
"Claustrophobic, counsellor?"
Barba pursed his lips and shuddered, managing a small nod. "Yes it's just... catching up to me. The panic, that is. Just – just ignore me. It'll be fine."
Nick's curiosity was peaked. Something wasn't right, here. Being a detective wasn't something you could turn off, either. He went back to staring at the doors, but made a note every time Barba's behavior changed.
Ten minutes later, the ADA was tapping out a rhythm with a polished, Italian leather dress shoe. Twenty minutes later, he was rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. At the twenty-five-minute mark, he started muttering to himself.
"What was that, counsellor?" Nick asked and Barba flinched at the sudden reminder of the detective's presence.
"Nothing!" he hissed, and his voice sounded strange and tight in his throat. He shuddered and bent over a bit, hands balled into fists pressed hard against his thighs. He straightened up and said something under his breath that Nick only caught part of, a staccato burst of Spanish, words clipped and panicked. His eyebrows rose in realization.
"You're gonna piss yourself?"
Barba's head whipped round and he shook it firmly. He was pale, sickly pale now. Sweat stood out on his brow.
"I'll be fine," he said, but here was a note of fear in his voice that Nick had never heard before.
Another shudder racked the ADA. He clenched his fists until his knuckles were bone white, and grit his teeth.
"How come you didn't go before –"
"I didn't plan on getting locked in an elevator!" he retorted, nearly hysterical. "F-fuck!"
He shut his eyes and bit his lower lip. Nick watched his hands press uselessly into his thighs and realized he was too proud to hold himself.
"Just... grab you dick, man," he mumbled, the words uncomfortable to say, and worse to hear in the close atmosphere of the elevator. Barba tried for a mocking laugh, but wound up with something closer to a sob. When the next spasm shook him, he shoved a hand between his legs.
Nick averted his eyes. He didn't need to see this – there were somethings you didn't wish on your worst enemy, and Barba, for all he could be a pain in the ass, was a hell of a lot more decent than the perps Nick encountered on the regular.
Barba swore and Nick looked back before he could stop himself. The lawyer had turned to press his back against the wall. He was gripping his cock hard through his suit pants – hard enough that Nick winced in sympathy. When Barba shifted, his hand slipped and revealed a damp spot, seeping through the fine fabric – about the size of a quarter. Nick swallowed.
Okay, he so didn't need to see this. He didn't need to notice that Barba was half-hard – only to be expected really, if he had to go that badly. He definitely didn't need to examine why that fact was making his pulse quicken.
Barba leaked again, the stain the size of his fist, now. Nick's cock twitched in his pants. Shit. The lawyer was babbling again, and it took Nick a second to realize what was bothering him.
"These pants are dry-clean only," he moaned. "This is an $800 dollar suit!"
"You're... uh," Nick swallowed. Tried again. "You're already kind of... wet. Maybe you should just..."
Barba looked up at him, pupils blown wide, eyes wild.
"Just... go."
For a second, the lawyer stared at Nick like he'd grown a second head, but then another violent shudder overtook him and he squeezed himself even more tightly, tilting his head back and uttering a litany of "no, no, por favor, no--!"
Nick stopped breathing. Time seemed to slow down as the flood unleashed and spread out from Barba's crotch, down the leg of his pants. The material turned shiny and dark, and the faint pattering of piss hitting the elevator floor was loud as gunfire. Barba looked strung-out, delirious with relief, red-faced with shame, but even his pride couldn't hold up to the pleasure of relief after so long in agony. He panted, mouth open, and groaned softly, hips canting into his fist, which loosened, and fell away to rest, limp, at his side.
All at once, it was over.
In the small space, the sharp smell of urine was overwhelming. Nick's breath returned in a rush that left him dizzy. He blinked to clear his head, and watched as Barba tried to salvage the situation.
The ADA was shaking – not like before. Trembling. Slowly, clumsily, he toed off his shoe and turned it over, balancing on one foot and staring, expressionless, at the pee that trickled out of it.
He looked so shell-shocked, so utterly thrown by disbelief that Nick felt a protective part of himself, usually reserved for his kids and for special victims, latch on to the image of the older man.
"It's okay," he said, and Barba jumped, losing his balance and stepping, sock-footed, in the cooling puddle of his own piss.
"Look," Nick continued, "they'll get us out soon. When they do, there's a bathroom nearby. I have a change of clothes in case I get into anything on the job – they won't be a perfect fit, but they'll be better than nothing."
Barba nodded, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he successfully got any words out.
"Thank you," he murmured, a look of surprise and gratitude in his eyes. "That's... good of you."
Nick shrugged.
"No problem."
The strange spell of the moment was broken as the elevator gave a sudden lurch. Barba's eyes darted to the door in panic, but Nick was already taking out his phone and texting Olivia as soon as the elevator rose to where he picked up a weak signal. When the box came to a stop, and the doors opened, there was nobody there to meet them.
Barba looked at Nick in horror.
"What did you say?"
Nick held out his phone wordlessly. Barba read over the text, shaking his head in disbelief.
2 much coffee
had to piss in the elevator
clear the hallway for me
Barba began to speak but Nick cut him off.
"Get in there," he said, gesturing to the door. "I'll go get you those clothes."
Shoving his phone back in his pocket, Nick turned around, and walked away.