Rafeal Barba One Shots

Safehouse

The tension between you and Rafael Barba had always been palpable. As attorneys working together, you'd often clashed in the courtroom, his sharp tongue and relentless drive meeting your equally strong will and unwavering determination. He was mysterious, brooding, and kept most people at arm's length, including you. Still, there had always been something beneath the surface—a spark of something deeper, though neither of you dared acknowledge it.

But everything changed when the death threats started coming in.

The case you were working on was high profile, dangerous even. You knew it was bound to ruffle feathers, but you hadn't expected the intensity of the backlash. At first, the threats were vague and indirect, the kind of things you'd both learned to ignore in your line of work. But then they became more personal, more specific, and it wasn't long before you and Rafael were forced into hiding.

Now, locked away in a safe house, far from the courtroom and the safety of your normal lives, the weight of the situation pressed down on you. The first night in the safe house felt suffocating. The rooms were dim, the silence heavy, and no matter how hard you tried, sleep wouldn't come.

The fear gnawed at you. You had been brave, strong, convincing everyone that you were unfazed by the threats, but the truth was that you were terrified. The isolation, the uncertainty—it was too much. You tossed and turned in your bed, every creak of the old house making your heart race. Finally, unable to take it any longer, you found yourself standing outside Rafael's door.

You hesitated, hand hovering above the doorknob. It felt so unlike you to need someone, especially him, but the fear was overwhelming. Before you could second-guess yourself, you knocked softly. The door opened almost immediately, and there he was, standing in the doorway, eyes sharp and alert even in the dim light. He didn't say anything at first, just watched you with those intense, dark eyes that always seemed to see right through you.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice deep and rough from the lateness of the hour.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling foolish for coming to him. "I—no," you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. "I just... I didn't want to be alone."

For a moment, you thought he might close the door, brush you off with his usual cold demeanor, but instead, he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. You walked in, feeling strangely vulnerable in his presence.

Rafael closed the door behind you, and you heard the soft click of the lock. "You're safe here," he said, his voice a little softer now, as though sensing the fear that still gripped you.

"I know," you replied, but your tone was unconvincing.

He gestured toward the small couch in his room. "Sit. I'll make some tea or something."

You watched him as he moved, his motions careful and deliberate. Rafael always seemed so controlled, like he kept his emotions locked away behind a wall that no one could penetrate. Even now, in the quiet intimacy of this safe house, with the threat looming outside, he maintained that aura of quiet confidence. It was one of the things you hated about him—and yet, you were drawn to it.

As he handed you the mug of tea, his fingers brushed yours, and even that small touch sent a spark through your body. You sipped the tea, feeling a warmth spread through you, but it didn't calm your nerves entirely.

"You don't have to pretend you're not scared," he said suddenly, sitting down across from you, his eyes locking onto yours. "You've been holding it together, but I know how serious this is."

You blinked, surprised by the softness in his tone. He was right. You had been holding it all in, trying to act strong, but it was getting harder by the second. The tears you'd been suppressing started to well up in your eyes, and before you could stop them, they spilled over.