Rafael/George SVU fic -Without Regrets
Sooo... I wanted to write a fic for my wonderful friend Alex, however instead of the smut I'd geared up for writing, this... fluffy, sugary sweet cavity-inducing piece was the result.
Hope you still like it, sweetling! I tried my best with Rafael's characterization, but I just don't know him as well as you do, so he's probably a bit OOC... heck, considering how long it was since I watched an SVU ep with George Huang in I probably made him pretty OOC as well =___=;; OTL
"Daddy! Daddy!"
George raised his eyes from the tabloid newspaper, headline screaming 'My wife cheated on me -with a duck!' to look at his daughter where she ambled in from the small garden at the back of their apartment, hands hidden behind her back and eyes practically sparkling with barely contained excitement. She was bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet, dark curls dancing in their high tails held together in red and green strawberry hairbands, and the gap in her teeth created a whistling sound that made him smile fondly.
"What is it, sweetie?" he enquired gently, setting the paper down to give the hyperactive five (and a half!) year old his full attention. Being in his profession certainly gave an advantage when it came to rearing children, even though he often caught himself with a wince at how clinically he kept planning out everything from teething problems to tantrums and a healthy balance of feeling validated and appreciated even (especially) during trying times. Rafael had laughed at his concerns over turning into some clinical psychiatrist nurse bot, and reassured him that even armed with the best and most knowledge about children and their fragile minds they would always continue to surprise you, keeping you on your toes and making even the most carefully planned strategies mere support pillars to hopefully lean against in the middle of the storm.
George couldn't help but wonder where his husband got his neverfailing optimism and natural child handling skills from.
"We-ell, I no you said we could no have a puppy yet but daddy I found him and I wanna keep him his name is Sammy and he's my bestest friend can I keep him? Can I? Can I!?" Her chubby little arms unwound from behind her back and thrust forward, a small greenish brown creature wriggling in her firm grip and her entire face aglow as she watched her new 'friend' with utter adoration, despite its clear discomfort with the situation.
"Umm... sweetie, that's a-"
"Toad!" she chirped happily, and George chuckled softly, leaning forward to examine the amphibian a bit closer.
"It's actually a frog, Jem. As your Papa would say, 'the toad's more handsome cousin'."
She giggled before looking closer at the small creature, face scrunched up in mock concentration before nodding happily.
"Flog!"
"FRog, sweetie. Remember what your speech therapist said about putting emphasis on the 'r's?"
"Emfashiss. Flog. F-Rsshh-og. F-shhhhog."
George felt his heart clench at the adorably lisping sound, lamenting for a second that eventually she might grow out of it, especially once her new tooth grew back. He might be someone who strived for order and perfection in every aspect of his life, but to him his daughter was utter perfection with every single little imperfection she owned. He wished for nothing more than to have her mess up his perfectly ordered life until he was laid to rest, and he really hoped that was not happening for a long time yet.
On an impulse, he reached down and enfolded her in a brief embrace, before letting go with a small laugh and a tousle of her hair.
"I'm sorry, but... Sammy? Sammy, has to go back home, sweetie. He might have a family of his own, and he would be terribly unhappy if he wasn't allowed to go back and see them again. And his family would be just as sad! Just think how sad we would be if some little girl took Papa home with her and we didn't get to see him again."
He watched dark brown eyes widen in horror as the small girl stared at the frog in her hands, no doubt imagining a whole family of frogs crying for their lost daddy right about now. Containing his laughter he squatted down and placed his hand against her arm, the darker skin of her baby-soft limbs a lovely contrast against his as he gently caught her attention before tears could start gathering.
"How about the two of us bring him back to where you got him together, and then we can return to the kitchen and make something really yummy to surprise Papa with, okay?"
He knew the answer before she vocalised it, the gleam in her eyes at the thought of reuniting the supposedly broken frog family growing tenfold when she caught on to the 'making something yummy for Papa' part. She might cling to her Daddy a lot, preferring his help and company in many things, but there was an undeniable bond between her and her Papa that George knew he couldn't ever compete with. It was the same spark he'd felt between them the first time his husband had held the small bundle in his arms, quickly solidifying into something unbreakable and no matter how much George loved and adored his daughter he feared deep down that their bond couldn't compare. Still, as Rafael would say, 'you can't compare feelings, even with your psychology charts, they're just there and as long as they exist they mean just as much as somebody else's'.
Yes. He loved his daughter, and he loved his husband and he wouldn't let his overly analytical mind dissect and invalidate that just because he felt insecure without the comforting stability and structure of breaking everything down into tiny pieces and cathegorizing them.
Now he just needed to make sure they had enough things at home to actually make something 'yummy' before Rafael returned home from work.
...
If Rafael had to describe his day, 'shitty' and 'fucking exhausting' would definitely be the first words to come to mind, amongst a colourful variation of Spanish swear words he would never dare utter out loud for fear of his husband's silent wrath communicated in cold glares and an equally cold bed. George was kind of stingy when it came to 'bad words' ever since their daughter came into the picture, and while Rafael agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment he couldn't quite help the way his temper easily flared, and with it his words. He'd always been a hot-headed kid, and he'd learned to run his mouth with the best of them back at the streets of his childhood home, where scathing words could deliver a gutpunch as well as a fist if you knew how to use them.
Not to say that his generally more mild-mannered psychiatrist husband couldn't deliver a toungelashing worthy of the fiercest mothers from back then, and his lips quirked at the thought of his petite George standing in the door to a rundown hovel that barely passed as a house, wearing a colourful apron and yelling at a multitude of snotty brats while dinner was cooking at the stove.
Yeah. Best not to mention that mental picture to his husband. Ever.
Right as the though of dinner started to penetrate his temporarily occupied mind the smell of freshly baked empanadas hit his nose, and his stomach started growling ferociously as his mouth watered in response. Kicking off his shoes (as much as it was possible to 'kick' off a pair of tightly tied dress shoes meant to stay on and look proper all through the day) and dropping his briefcase by the door he stumbled further into the apartment while loosening his tie, letting his nose (and common sense) lead him into the kitchen.
All thoughts of the less-than great day disappeared at the sight of his two most beloved people in the world, matching 'prince' and 'princess' aprons and flour all the way up into their hair for no comprehensible reason whatsoever, stuffing round discs of dough with some meaty concoction mixed with vegetables before folding them in half and pinching the edges. One half of the baking tray was filled with messy blobs of varying sizes with unevenly squeezed seams, but Rafael knew without a doubt he'd gobble down most of his share from that side rather than from the painstakingly perfect artworks that were his husband's creations, because nothing would make him happier than seeing his heart's pride and joy smiling.
"Ah, I see your stomach has lead you home early today" George greeted him with a teasing smile before holding out his white stained arms and waggling his eyebrows, trying to beckon the other man into an embrace. Rafael backed away with a laugh, feeling suddenly protective of his favourite suit, but before he could turn tail and run a small weight barrelled into him and without looking down he knew that he'd just failed in that task.
"Papa! Papa! We made food! And I had a flog but we had to let it go so his family would no be sad and Sammy would no be sad too but then we made food fo you Papa!" Rafael laughed and scooped up his little girl, pretending he understood exactly what she'd just said while throwing a helplessly bewildered look at his husband over her shoulder, pouting when all he got in return was silent laughter. He was sure he would find out later, though, so he let it go and handed his little girl over to his now smirking husband.
"There you go, Princesita, you stay with the handsome prince. I'm just going to change into something less..." he frowned down at his suit that had gained an uneven pattern of white handprints "destroyable. I'll be right back."
He pretended not to notice the choir of laughter that followed him out of the room as he held his nose high, keeping up his air of affront until he'd made it into the safety of their bedroom, finally letting a fond smile creep back unto his face in full. Oh, how he loved his silly little family.
If only they didn't seem to have personal vendettas against his suits, always finding new and imaginative ways of ruining them (at least for a little while).
...
Much later, Rafael sat on the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him, George snuggled up to his side and a glass of wine on the table in front of them. They'd put Jemima to bed a while ago and had just been sitting silently together, enjoying each other's company and looking at some nature program about paradise birds with the sound muted. Yawning he felt the smaller man shift against his side, and looked down, meeting the gentle stare of his husband and he was once again struck with awe at how easily his husband could take his breath away even after all these years.
"I wanted to make stew, you know. But Jem insisted on empanadas, and I'd promised to let her decide, so..."
Rafael smiled and nuzzled the other man's hair affectionately.
"It was the best thing she could have chosen for me today, cariño, I didn't know how much I'd wanted it until i smelled it in the hallway... we can make stew some other day. I was really happy you made empanadas for me, you know."
"Well, there are quite a few left... if you want, you can always bring some for lunch. Unless you're eating out again?"
He was playing with a loose thread on Rafael's sweatpants and it didn't take much thought to realise what would be the right answer to that question. He had been spending very little time at home lately, always spending his breaks at work or eating out with his coworkers, even when he had several hours free and he felt immensely guilty for not realising how lonely George must've felt only seeing him for a few short hours mostly spent sleeping before he was off to work again in the morning.
"You know what, how about I come home for lunch tomorrow, I have a big gap between twelve and three and I was thinking we could get lunch together?"
Seeing those warm brown eyes light up so brightly made his heart stutter and cramp in pure, agonizing love and he knew he'd be taking time off of work very soon. When he laid on his death bed he wouldn't have any regrets about not spending enough time at work, no, it was the time spent with loved ones that mattered, that should be cherished like golden treasures and collected until they outweighed everything else. Only then would a person be able to say they'd lived their life fully, that was his belief.
Cradling George closer to him, he kissed those still so very soft lips before smiling and getting off of the couch, pulling the other man up with him and leading the way to the bedroom.
"Tonight, mi querido, let me love you fully, without regrets. Tomorrow can wait."
And maybe it was the soft smile or the clenching of fingers entwined with his, but he knew without a doubt that when the day came, he'd die happily with a life fully lived and loved.
Hope you still like it, sweetling! I tried my best with Rafael's characterization, but I just don't know him as well as you do, so he's probably a bit OOC... heck, considering how long it was since I watched an SVU ep with George Huang in I probably made him pretty OOC as well =___=;; OTL
"Daddy! Daddy!"
George raised his eyes from the tabloid newspaper, headline screaming 'My wife cheated on me -with a duck!' to look at his daughter where she ambled in from the small garden at the back of their apartment, hands hidden behind her back and eyes practically sparkling with barely contained excitement. She was bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet, dark curls dancing in their high tails held together in red and green strawberry hairbands, and the gap in her teeth created a whistling sound that made him smile fondly.
"What is it, sweetie?" he enquired gently, setting the paper down to give the hyperactive five (and a half!) year old his full attention. Being in his profession certainly gave an advantage when it came to rearing children, even though he often caught himself with a wince at how clinically he kept planning out everything from teething problems to tantrums and a healthy balance of feeling validated and appreciated even (especially) during trying times. Rafael had laughed at his concerns over turning into some clinical psychiatrist nurse bot, and reassured him that even armed with the best and most knowledge about children and their fragile minds they would always continue to surprise you, keeping you on your toes and making even the most carefully planned strategies mere support pillars to hopefully lean against in the middle of the storm.
George couldn't help but wonder where his husband got his neverfailing optimism and natural child handling skills from.
"We-ell, I no you said we could no have a puppy yet but daddy I found him and I wanna keep him his name is Sammy and he's my bestest friend can I keep him? Can I? Can I!?" Her chubby little arms unwound from behind her back and thrust forward, a small greenish brown creature wriggling in her firm grip and her entire face aglow as she watched her new 'friend' with utter adoration, despite its clear discomfort with the situation.
"Umm... sweetie, that's a-"
"Toad!" she chirped happily, and George chuckled softly, leaning forward to examine the amphibian a bit closer.
"It's actually a frog, Jem. As your Papa would say, 'the toad's more handsome cousin'."
She giggled before looking closer at the small creature, face scrunched up in mock concentration before nodding happily.
"Flog!"
"FRog, sweetie. Remember what your speech therapist said about putting emphasis on the 'r's?"
"Emfashiss. Flog. F-Rsshh-og. F-shhhhog."
George felt his heart clench at the adorably lisping sound, lamenting for a second that eventually she might grow out of it, especially once her new tooth grew back. He might be someone who strived for order and perfection in every aspect of his life, but to him his daughter was utter perfection with every single little imperfection she owned. He wished for nothing more than to have her mess up his perfectly ordered life until he was laid to rest, and he really hoped that was not happening for a long time yet.
On an impulse, he reached down and enfolded her in a brief embrace, before letting go with a small laugh and a tousle of her hair.
"I'm sorry, but... Sammy? Sammy, has to go back home, sweetie. He might have a family of his own, and he would be terribly unhappy if he wasn't allowed to go back and see them again. And his family would be just as sad! Just think how sad we would be if some little girl took Papa home with her and we didn't get to see him again."
He watched dark brown eyes widen in horror as the small girl stared at the frog in her hands, no doubt imagining a whole family of frogs crying for their lost daddy right about now. Containing his laughter he squatted down and placed his hand against her arm, the darker skin of her baby-soft limbs a lovely contrast against his as he gently caught her attention before tears could start gathering.
"How about the two of us bring him back to where you got him together, and then we can return to the kitchen and make something really yummy to surprise Papa with, okay?"
He knew the answer before she vocalised it, the gleam in her eyes at the thought of reuniting the supposedly broken frog family growing tenfold when she caught on to the 'making something yummy for Papa' part. She might cling to her Daddy a lot, preferring his help and company in many things, but there was an undeniable bond between her and her Papa that George knew he couldn't ever compete with. It was the same spark he'd felt between them the first time his husband had held the small bundle in his arms, quickly solidifying into something unbreakable and no matter how much George loved and adored his daughter he feared deep down that their bond couldn't compare. Still, as Rafael would say, 'you can't compare feelings, even with your psychology charts, they're just there and as long as they exist they mean just as much as somebody else's'.
Yes. He loved his daughter, and he loved his husband and he wouldn't let his overly analytical mind dissect and invalidate that just because he felt insecure without the comforting stability and structure of breaking everything down into tiny pieces and cathegorizing them.
Now he just needed to make sure they had enough things at home to actually make something 'yummy' before Rafael returned home from work.
...
If Rafael had to describe his day, 'shitty' and 'fucking exhausting' would definitely be the first words to come to mind, amongst a colourful variation of Spanish swear words he would never dare utter out loud for fear of his husband's silent wrath communicated in cold glares and an equally cold bed. George was kind of stingy when it came to 'bad words' ever since their daughter came into the picture, and while Rafael agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment he couldn't quite help the way his temper easily flared, and with it his words. He'd always been a hot-headed kid, and he'd learned to run his mouth with the best of them back at the streets of his childhood home, where scathing words could deliver a gutpunch as well as a fist if you knew how to use them.
Not to say that his generally more mild-mannered psychiatrist husband couldn't deliver a toungelashing worthy of the fiercest mothers from back then, and his lips quirked at the thought of his petite George standing in the door to a rundown hovel that barely passed as a house, wearing a colourful apron and yelling at a multitude of snotty brats while dinner was cooking at the stove.
Yeah. Best not to mention that mental picture to his husband. Ever.
Right as the though of dinner started to penetrate his temporarily occupied mind the smell of freshly baked empanadas hit his nose, and his stomach started growling ferociously as his mouth watered in response. Kicking off his shoes (as much as it was possible to 'kick' off a pair of tightly tied dress shoes meant to stay on and look proper all through the day) and dropping his briefcase by the door he stumbled further into the apartment while loosening his tie, letting his nose (and common sense) lead him into the kitchen.
All thoughts of the less-than great day disappeared at the sight of his two most beloved people in the world, matching 'prince' and 'princess' aprons and flour all the way up into their hair for no comprehensible reason whatsoever, stuffing round discs of dough with some meaty concoction mixed with vegetables before folding them in half and pinching the edges. One half of the baking tray was filled with messy blobs of varying sizes with unevenly squeezed seams, but Rafael knew without a doubt he'd gobble down most of his share from that side rather than from the painstakingly perfect artworks that were his husband's creations, because nothing would make him happier than seeing his heart's pride and joy smiling.
"Ah, I see your stomach has lead you home early today" George greeted him with a teasing smile before holding out his white stained arms and waggling his eyebrows, trying to beckon the other man into an embrace. Rafael backed away with a laugh, feeling suddenly protective of his favourite suit, but before he could turn tail and run a small weight barrelled into him and without looking down he knew that he'd just failed in that task.
"Papa! Papa! We made food! And I had a flog but we had to let it go so his family would no be sad and Sammy would no be sad too but then we made food fo you Papa!" Rafael laughed and scooped up his little girl, pretending he understood exactly what she'd just said while throwing a helplessly bewildered look at his husband over her shoulder, pouting when all he got in return was silent laughter. He was sure he would find out later, though, so he let it go and handed his little girl over to his now smirking husband.
"There you go, Princesita, you stay with the handsome prince. I'm just going to change into something less..." he frowned down at his suit that had gained an uneven pattern of white handprints "destroyable. I'll be right back."
He pretended not to notice the choir of laughter that followed him out of the room as he held his nose high, keeping up his air of affront until he'd made it into the safety of their bedroom, finally letting a fond smile creep back unto his face in full. Oh, how he loved his silly little family.
If only they didn't seem to have personal vendettas against his suits, always finding new and imaginative ways of ruining them (at least for a little while).
...
Much later, Rafael sat on the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him, George snuggled up to his side and a glass of wine on the table in front of them. They'd put Jemima to bed a while ago and had just been sitting silently together, enjoying each other's company and looking at some nature program about paradise birds with the sound muted. Yawning he felt the smaller man shift against his side, and looked down, meeting the gentle stare of his husband and he was once again struck with awe at how easily his husband could take his breath away even after all these years.
"I wanted to make stew, you know. But Jem insisted on empanadas, and I'd promised to let her decide, so..."
Rafael smiled and nuzzled the other man's hair affectionately.
"It was the best thing she could have chosen for me today, cariño, I didn't know how much I'd wanted it until i smelled it in the hallway... we can make stew some other day. I was really happy you made empanadas for me, you know."
"Well, there are quite a few left... if you want, you can always bring some for lunch. Unless you're eating out again?"
He was playing with a loose thread on Rafael's sweatpants and it didn't take much thought to realise what would be the right answer to that question. He had been spending very little time at home lately, always spending his breaks at work or eating out with his coworkers, even when he had several hours free and he felt immensely guilty for not realising how lonely George must've felt only seeing him for a few short hours mostly spent sleeping before he was off to work again in the morning.
"You know what, how about I come home for lunch tomorrow, I have a big gap between twelve and three and I was thinking we could get lunch together?"
Seeing those warm brown eyes light up so brightly made his heart stutter and cramp in pure, agonizing love and he knew he'd be taking time off of work very soon. When he laid on his death bed he wouldn't have any regrets about not spending enough time at work, no, it was the time spent with loved ones that mattered, that should be cherished like golden treasures and collected until they outweighed everything else. Only then would a person be able to say they'd lived their life fully, that was his belief.
Cradling George closer to him, he kissed those still so very soft lips before smiling and getting off of the couch, pulling the other man up with him and leading the way to the bedroom.
"Tonight, mi querido, let me love you fully, without regrets. Tomorrow can wait."
And maybe it was the soft smile or the clenching of fingers entwined with his, but he knew without a doubt that when the day came, he'd die happily with a life fully lived and loved.