He looks over, at her. They're the last two, in squad room.
"You going home, anytime, soon?"
"I don't know."
"After a case like this, I could use a drink," Nick admits, "How about you?"
"And a shower," she adds.
"I'll buy. What do you say?"
"I don't know."
"You have a hot date, with prince charming, tonight?"
"I don't think that is going to work out," she admits.
"You have to give the guy a chance."
"I did. I really wanted it to work, but I just don't think that it's going to."
"So, what do you say? Let's get a drink, and drown our sorrows. It's been a rough week, a rough case, and hell, we deserve it."
"I don't know."
"What else do you have planned? Go home, and curl up on the couch, watching TV, until you fall asleep? You could go out with me, have a drink."
"What's in it, for me?"
"I heard that you're pretty good at shooting pool."
"Really?"
"I bet you twenty bucks I can beat you."
"Make it fifty, and I'm in."
"Really? Fifty? That is pretty steep. What do you need the money for?"
"I don't need the money, I just like to win."
"I know," he smirks.
"Get your coat," she tells him, grabbing her purse, and phone.
They grab their coats, and head for the elevator. They end up at a bar a couple of blocks away. He orders them a couple of rounds. She orders a chardonnay, he orders a couple of shots. They sit on stools, at the bar. The bar tender brings them their drinks. She reaches for her.
"Shots first," he tells her.
"I don't do shots," she argues.
"Live a little," he goads her.
"Nick, I'm not in college. I don't drink beer, and a sure as hell don't do shots."
"You're taking all of the fun out of it. What's one shot?"
"It's never just one shot," she smiles, exposing her dimples.
"You've been NYPD for how many years?"
"More than I care to count."
"You work in a boys club, I am certain that you know how to hold your alcohol. I am also sure, that you could probably drink me under the table, if you wanted to."
"I am sure of that."
"It's Friday night, what is one shot going to hurt?"
She rolls her eyes, and reaches for the shot glass. She pounds it back. A few shots later, they are standing around a pool table. There is a group of people gathered around them. Her hair is pulled back, into a clip, and her sleeves are rolled up. Nick stands next to the pool table, holding his pool stick. The group of people around the table watch Olivia, closely.
"I make this shot, you lose," Olivia reminds him.
"You won't make it," he is certain.
"Side pocket. Watch, and learn, rookie," she taunts him.
He holds his breath, as she leans forward, to make her shot. She hits the ball, and hits it into the pocket. She smiles, and looks at Nick.
"And, that is how it's done."
"You win."
"Pay up."
He hands her the money. She takes it, then heads for the coat rack.
"Where are you going, I want a rematch?"
"Maybe another time," she heads for the door.
He grabs his coat, and follows her out. She hails a cab. It stops, and she climbs inside. He climbs inside, with her.
"What are you doing?" she asks as he closes the door.
"We've both had a little too much to drink," he begins.
"Maybe you have."
"I just want to make sure that you get home, alright."
"Whatever," she gives the cabby the address.
A few minutes later, they're at her building. He climbs out of the car, and follows her towards the entrance.
"I am here, you don't have to follow me up," she tells him.
"You can't even walk a straight line."
"Neither can you."
"Touche."
"What are you doing to do, arrest me, for drunken walking, in my own apartment building?" she wonders, as she walks through the doors.
"I am just trying to be a good friend."
"Ok," she relents, as they climb on the elevator.
The doors close behind them. A few floors later, the doors open. She steps out. He follows her, to her door. She pulls out her keys. She pushes the door open. He stands there, for a second.
"Night, Liv."
She smiles at him. Before she can respond, she realizes what close proximity he is in, to her. They have both had too much to drink, and their inhibitions, are low. Without a second thought he leans in, and kisses her. She doesn't stop him. She doesn't push him away. She doesn't back down.
A few steps later, they're in the apartment, with the door closed. She locks it, behind him. He kisses her neck.
"Maybe this isn't a good idea," he whispers, pausing.
She stands there, looking at him. She smiles, as her pulse increases. His eyes look her up and down. She's wearing a sweater, and a pair of jeans, but all he can think about is the dress, that she wore to the crime scene, days earlier.
She takes a step forward. She exhales.
"This is a terrible idea," she says, just above a whisper. She steps closer, and before either of them can stop it, her lips are on his. He doesn't try to stop her. He doesn't try to argue. He doesn't back down, either.