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8cetera · 7 years

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Track #4: Sunday

(A string of short imagines based on Rafael Barba, inspired by the songs from Jonathan Larson’s Tick, Tick...Boom!) #1. 30/90 #2. Green Green Dress #3. Johnny Can’t Decide #4. Sunday #5. No More #6. Therapy

A tingling sensation on the side of her arm woke her from her sleep, must be an itch, she thought. Without even opening her eyes she reached up to the source to scratch it, only to come in contact with rough fingertips. Not an itch after all. She summoned her eyes to finally open and immediately felt glad afterwards.

There were very few sights she enjoyed more than a bare-chest Rafael underneath her linen sheets. She appreciated the neat comb overs and high-end tailored suits of the unstoppable counselor just as much as the next person, but she would trade it all for this in an instant.

The disheveled hair, the reduced eye bags, the peaceful expression; a sense of pride began to form within her as she realized how lucky she was to bear witness this side of him.

Unable to resist any longer, she caught his fingers in the midst of his light strokes and interlocked her fingers with his. Besides, as ridiculous as it was, she was beginning to feel jealous of the ceiling he was staring at so intently.

“Did I wake you?”

“Yes—” She feigned irritation but couldn’t continue the act for long when she noticed his apologetic expression “But I’m so, so glad you did.”

She shifted closer to him to place a kiss on his throat, earning a soft hum.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Really well…” He said in a daze, before looking down at her with a devious expression, “Until I woke up because I couldn’t feel my arm. Spooning really isn’t what they make it out to be in the movies, you know it’s really-”

She gave him a light jab to the stomach before quickly sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. She pulled the sheets to her chest and narrowed her eyes at him, receiving a deep chuckle in return.

“Are you hungry?”

She wasn’t thinking about food until he said the words, and just as luck would have it her stomach began to grumble. He grinned and reached for his watch on the side table.

“So am I. It’s 9:30. How about we head to the diner for brunch? We haven’t done that in a while.” He moved to lay on his front and traced random patterns on her thighs.

She beamed at his suggestion, and slid out of the bed to change even before she answered.

“Sounds great to me.”

"Let's go somewhere else."

Rafael tugged on her coat, motioning with his hand for them to leave the diner.

"No-no I'm sure we'll get a seat soon."

She was trying to maintain an optimistic tone but it was becoming increasingly difficult after she had been pushed twice by patrons leaving the dinner. Who would have thought that the entire city would have the same idea and decide to have Sunday brunch at exactly this hour.

"But it's so crowded."

"It'll be fine." She assured him, before looping her arm around his.

"Besides, this is the only place that makes the espresso exactly how you like it. Just be patient."

Rafael looked down defeated, knowing that she was right. However, when a group of seven people came barging in as if they weren’t there, he said to himself he couldn't take it anymore and began to drag her closer to the door.

She didn't feel the need to object until she heard, what seemed at the time, two wonderful magic words.

"How many?"

They were seated at the corner of the diner, and right next to them was the entrance to the kitchen. Every time food would come out, the doors would fling open in such a full force that their table shook.

The entire diner was bursting with noise. It was a mixture of loud conversation, toddlers crying, plates and glasses shattering. It annoyed Rafael to no end as he checked his watch for the third time since they sat down. He mumbled to himself, and fidgeted in his seat profusely.

All the while his significant other sat quietly across from him with her hands on her lap, observing in amusement.

He stood up from his seat to try and grab the attention of a waiter passing by.

“Order—”

“Someone will be with you soon.”

He pursed his lips and sighed audibly as he slumped back into his seat.

"Relax, Barba" she teased, "It's only been ten minutes."

He scoffed, "More like twenty—and that's not counting the extra fifteen we waited earlier.”

“Do you even know what you’re having?”

He opened his mouth to say something but paused when he realized the answer to that was indeed, a no.

Rafael lifted one of the menus tucked in between the wall and napkin holder, quickly scanning its contents.

“Not yet, but I bet I can guess what you’re having.”

She couldn’t hide the wide grin forming on her face, and in just mere seconds Rafael’s expression began to match hers.

“Niçoise salad and honey—” “Niçoise salad and honey bread.”

Their laughter was interrupted by their waiter, to Rafael’s relief, arriving to take their order.

He was out of breath as he scrambled to take out his pen and notepad.

“Hey, I’m Jon. What can I get you guys?”

“Can I please get the Niçoi—”

“We’re outta’ lettuce.”

“Oh, that’s fine I’ll just get the honey bre—”

“Outta’ honey bread.”

The slight disappointment apparent on her face combined Jon incessantly tapping his pen on his notepad tested Rafael’s patience deeply.

“Are you just out of everything?”

“Raf—it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. How can they call themselves a diner if—”

She was glad to be quick enough to kick his shin under the table before he could finish his sentence.

“What about just some toast and eggs, sunny-side?”

“That, we can do—and you?”

He turned to Rafael who could only narrow his eyes at him.

“I’ll have the same.”

She shook her head and looked up to Jon, “A Cuban espresso and some orange juice as well, please.”

“Sure thing.”

After Jon left, Rafael’s expression still seemed like he wanted to teach the kid a lesson. She reached her arm out across the table, inviting him to take her hand.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He gently lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“Nothing, nothing. Just hungry, I guess.”

“How’s the coffee?”

Rafael avoided direct eye-contact and took another sip.

“It’s good, but a bit too sweet today.”

“That’s exactly how you like it. You can be such a bad liar sometimes, Rafael.”

She shook her head and then turned her attention to the middle section of the diner.

“Hey, look.” She pointed towards the green cylindrical stools, “Remember when we first came here, and we made fun of the color of those stools?”

He quickly chewed and swallowed his last bite of toast before answering,

“Yeah, I think they just got them back then and they were this horrible... lime green color? Didn’t match any of the other interiors.”

She nodded and continued to stare at the stools, “Exactly, but look at it now—It seemed to have blended in just fine with the others. Funny, what time does.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

His reply brought her out of her daydream and she proceeded to pick up the last piece of her toast.

“Marry me.”

She felt the piece of bread land on her pants, and then down to the floor right by her shoe as her hand involuntarily let it go.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think so.”

Rafael leaned his arms on the table so that he was now closer to her.

“Marry...” He looked straight into her eyes, and it terrified her to admit that she saw absolutely no signs that he joking, “me.”

She wished she hadn’t asked. Hearing him say it slower proved to be a worse scenario. She looked around the room making sure no one was paying attention to them. When her eyes met his again she began to make incoherent sounds, unsure if she should even be trying to speak.

“It’s been six years. Six. Years. You can’t tell me you’re that surprised?”

“Is this about when we had dinner with your mother two weeks ago? When I went on and on about my cousin’s wedding, about how I hated tier cakes—that was between me and your mom, Rafael, and I wasn’t being serious—you-you really shouldn’t have been listening to our—”

“You’re changing the subject.”

She bit her bottom lip nervously and fiddled with the ends of her blouse.

“But to answer your question-” He leaned back and crossed his arms, “No, it wasn’t because of dinner. I’ve been wanting to do this for awhile.”

Her head perked up as she was genuinely surprised.

“Thought I could try being romantic for a change and bring us back here.”

He eyes wandered around the room and the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Where he had our first date.”

“Even though it didn’t go exactly how I had planned… And you deserve a better proposal, I know. I’m sorry I just—I couldn’t wait to ask anymore.”

The two were so engrossed they didn’t even notice that Jon had returned with their bill.

“Here’s… the check.” Jon nervously said as he realized he might have interrupted an important conversation, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Even though she didn’t want to, she tore her eyes away from the pleading green ones opposite her and reached for the tray with the bill.

“Let me get this.”

A few minutes outside proved to be a vast contrast from the atmosphere in the diner. It was a quiet, chilly February afternoon, the only sounds they could hear were the rustling of the leaves as a strong wind began to blow harshly.

Among other things, this was what kept her holding on tight to Rafael as they began to walk back.

“Do you like tier cakes?”

She asked suddenly as she tightened the hold on his arm.

“Hate them.”

“What kind of cake would you like, then?”

He untangled himself from her hold and instead put his hands on each side of her cheeks.

“I really don’t care” He chuckled, “We could have a cheesecake the size of our apartment if that’s what you want. All that matters is—”

“How many guests would we have?”

“None.” He said curtly and her eyes widened, “We’ll do it in City Hall, it’ll be a short distance from work and—”

She sighed and turned around so he was facing her back.

The next minute his arms were around her waist and his lips right by her ear.

“I’m kidding.” He whispered, and kissed her temple.

“I would like it to be small. Your family. Mamá. Friends. Maybe the squad, but we’ll see.”

She laughed, and thought her heart might burst from all the emotions that were running through her. “That’s what I want, too.”

“Really?”

She turned to wrap her arms around his neck, “Yes, really.”

He placed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes before he gathered the strength to ask again.

“Yes?”

She kissed him once, and then two more times, not caring at all that his lips felt cold as ice from the harsh wind.

“Yes.”

She would kiss them over and over again until they weren’t.

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