Chapter Text
The leather photo album was heavy and still creaked like brand new, leading Rafael to suspect that it had never been opened.
He was unpacking yet another box of Sonny’s things. He said “another” because this was probably the fortieth this weekend. A normal relationship might have had this in small stages throughout the months leading to cohabitation but not theirs. Sonny had decided to play the Catholic card and refuse to live with him until they were married. He didn’t want to “live in sin,” as though his God were perfectly fine with ambitious amounts of premarital sex so long as they didn’t have the same mailing address.
Rafael took the time to admire the slim gold band on his finger before turning his attention back to the album in his hands.
He cracked it open and his jaw dropped.
It was his husband, painfully young.
Crossed arms, dark hair, and a suit that was clearly picked out by someone else. Even with substantial improvement and Rafael’s knowing influence, Sonny would never have put those pieces together. Rafael’s eyes were drawn to his direct gaze and obscenely full bottom lip, unconsciously catching his own between his teeth. He’d kissed those lips more times than he could count but seeing them flushed dark in moody black and white made him wish Sonny was home instead of booking johns at the precinct.
Rafael set the rest of the box aside and took the album with him to the couch, lowering himself on one end so that the arm could support the book’s weight while he admired the subject material.
The picture was clearly professional; lighting perfect, angle flattering. Staged and posed to ensure a dramatic presentation rather than something utilitarian, like a headshot. Faded white paint on brick and dilapidated control panels served to contrast the clean lines of the suit but still managed to amicably mingle with Sonny’s shaggy hair. On the bottom right of the photo there were a few lines of script so small they were nearly illegible. Rafael had to squint a little to read them, irritated that his brain so helpfully suggested reading glasses, of all things.
Dominick Carisi wearing Burberry.
Rafael looked up in surprise, as though Sonny were going to pop out of the curtains and admit to staging an elaborate April Fool’s day prank. A prank that would have been three months late. Surely in three years of dating, one year of engagement, and a month of marriage Sonny would have mentioned this to him. Still, the evidence in front of him spoke for itself.
His husband, a man with a sordid history of boring ties and dreadful facial hair, was once a model.
Rafael turned the page.