Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. It all belongs to Dick Wolf.

As GiLmOrE-fan-SvU-feak put it, I am being inspired by New York City! So here's another little oneshot of our favourite pair in the city. Enjoy!

"You've never ridden the subway?" repeats Olivia, her eyes so wide that they're almost bursting from her sockets in incredulity.

I shrug. "I've never needed to."

"But that's not the point. It's an experience. Like going to the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building."

I roll my eyes. "Liv, you can't honestly compare the subway to Ellis Island."

She crosses her arms, almost petulantly. "Why not?"

"They're apples and oranges. No, actually, they're apples and South Africa. Incomparable," I translate when she scrunches her eyes in confusion. It's so cute when she does that.

She juts out her lower lip. "Do you have any pressing cases that you need to attend to, Counsellor?"

"No," I reply cautiously, wondering whether this is the correct answer or the incorrect one.

"Good. We're going on the subway."

I roll my eyes. "Why? We don't have anywhere we need to go."

Shh," she orders. "We're just going to ride around. Go put on some sweats or something."

I glare at her for a moment, because she knows perfectly well that I don't actually own a pair of sweats. But I obediently change into jeans before coming back out into the hallway where she's waiting. I cross my arms over my chest and give her my most petulant look.

She smiles patiently and takes my hand. "There's a subway station a block and a half down. Come on."

Well, it's not like I really have a choice, considering she's clutching my hand and half-dragging me out the door. And to be honest, I don't really mind. Sure, subways are loud and crowded and dirty – or so my mother told me – but I get to spend the day with Olivia, and if we stayed home I'm sure we both would have done paperwork all afternoon. This might be nice.

Olivia pays for two two-hour tickets and examines the map for a moment. "We're taking the F-line," she informs me, still holding tightly to my hand, presumably so I don't turn and walk away. Which I wouldn't, but I guess she doesn't trust me that explicitly. Understandably so.

"What's on the F-line?" I snap, a bit annoyed that she knows something that I don't.

She shrugs. "Nothing in particular."

"Where does it go?"

"Around."

She's being purposefully elusive because she knows it drives me crazy. I can tell by the smug grin on her face, and I decide not to give her any more ammunition. I follow her without complaint and climb into the subway car, trying not to groan when I see the graffiti scribbled on the walls. It is crowded, and loud, and smelly, but there are a few seats vacant. Olivia sits down and pulls me down next to her, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

"Relax," she murmurs. "It's not so bad."

I sigh in resignation and rest my head in the crook of her neck. I wonder if the pulse I'm feeling is mine or hers, and then I think that it's maybe both of ours.

But such a position isn't particularly comfortable on the subway, so I lay my head in her lap instead. She smiles and cradles my head in her hands, gently stroking my hair as the subway starts to move.

It's almost like an amusement park ride, fast and bumpy like a roller coaster. But it isn't so bad, especially not with my head in Olivia's lap and her fingers combing through my hair.

Within minutes, I'm fast asleep.

When I wake up, it takes me a moment to get my bearings, and when I do, I start to panic. I sit up, and get even more anxious when I realize Olivia's sleeping too, snoring lightly. "Liv!" I whisper urgently, shaking her shoulders. "Liv, wake up!"

She lolls her head to the side. "Mm?"

"What time is it?"

"How would I know?" she mumbles.

I twist her left wrist so I can see her watch. "Liv, we've been sleeping for almost an hour! We're on Avenue X!"

"Oh."

She doesn't sound at all worried, and that infuriates me. "That's all you have to say? 'Oh?' We're almost at Coney Island."

She shrugs. "You've got anything better to do today?"

"No," I admit. "But – we can't go to Coney Island!"

She rubs her eyes. "Why not?"

"We're way out of Manhattan."

"So?"

"So . . ." I try to think of what she expects me to say. "So, you said we didn't have anywhere to go."

"Exactly. So Coney Island's just as good as anywhere."

I'm trying to follow her logic. "But why should we go there?"

She shrugs again. "Why not?"

I lean back against her, too tired to play these kinds of games, and I can tell she knows it by her lopsided smile. "But –"

"But what?"

"But . . . but . . ." I don't know what to say.

"We can be kids again. Remember the Ferris wheel?"

My blank stare tells her all she needs to know, and her eyes widen.

"You're telling me you've never been to Coney Island before?"

"It's just a day of firsts," I say wryly as the subway doors open and close.

"How have you never been there? You've lived in New York all your life!"

"Who took you there?"

"My mother, when I was six," she says, a bit more quietly. "On one of her good days. She did have some good days."

I can see in her deep chocolate orbs how much this means to her, and I can't help the image floating before me; of little Olivia, holding tight to her mother's hand as she's clutching mine now, dragging her from one ride to the next, her eyes shining with happiness. She's looking at me in that same imploring way now, begging me without words. "Fine," I concede, because I know I can't stand a chance when she turns on the charm.

Her eyes light up like it's Christmas morning. "You'll love it," she tells me. "It's the best place in the whole wide world!"

I have to laugh. "My mother never took me there."

"Correction: she never let one of your many nannies take you there. The only people who go to Coney Island are white trash and greenies," she says, doing such an uncanny impression of my mother that I giggle. The two of them have never got along, but moreover, she's right.

The subway doors open again and a voice on the intercom says, "Arriving at Coney Island."

Olivia smiles sweetly and kisses my cheek. "Thank you, Alex."

I smile back and follow her off the subway.

Coney Island, in a word, is busy. There are people all over the place, mothers pushing strollers and clutching the sticky hands of toddlers licking lollipops; couples walking hand in hand on the boardwalk; a woman with six dogs that range from a poodle to a golden retriever. Only in New York.

There's a boardwalk with a bunch of little shops that sell slushies and smoothies and hot dogs and burgers. There's an amusement park, too, with a huge Ferris wheel and several roller coasters that I know will make Olivia sick. I note their location and smile to myself – revenge, I think. For later.

She leads me past the boardwalk, toward the water. "Liv," I complain, digging in my heels. "Not in these shoes. They'll get dirty."

"I'll clean them for you."

I fold my arms. "No."

She gives me her patented Olivia Benson smile and leans in to capture my lips in hers. I know she's only doing it to get her way, but damn, it works every time. I grudgingly follow her toward the water, grimacing as I feel the sand start to seep into my sandals.

"Are we done?" I grumble.

She shakes her head. "Nope. We're going all the way."

I suppress my smirk at the double entendre and say softly so no one else can hear, "I'd rather go all the way in bed tonight."

She rolls her eyes. "You have a dirty mind."

"I know, but you love it."

"I'll make you a deal," she offers.

I narrow my eyes. This doesn't sound good. "What kind of deal?"

"The kind that gets me into your pants."

I choke on nothing. "Do you have to broadcast that to the whole world?"

She shrugs. "You started it. Anyway, do you want to know the offer before it expires?"

"Yes," I admit through clenched teeth.

"Okay. You do whatever I want now and I'll do whatever you want later."

Hmm, that actually doesn't sound like such a bad idea. "Whatever I want?" I repeat, just to make sure.

"Whatever you want," she confirms, grinning like a cat.

"Okay," I agree reluctantly, following her further out toward the water.

We reach the edge of the beach and stop. Olivia crosses her arms and looks back at me. "It's nice, isn't it?"

It is, but I'm not about to tell her that. Yet there I am, transfixed by the sight of the rollicking waves, the sun dancing overtop of the water.

She grins, resting her hands on my shoulders. "I take that as a yes." She takes my hand again and starts to lead me away. "Step two: you have to try a hot dog."

"No way!"

"Hello! We just made a deal, remember?"

"Liv," I complain. "I'm not standing in a twenty-minute line for a hot dog that won't even be half as good as the ones you make."

"Yes, you are," she tells me, marching toward one of the hot dog shops and dragging me with her.

I shuffle from foot to foot impatiently as the line inches forward. Finally, we reach the front and she orders two hot dogs, than hands me one, squirting on just the right amount of ketchup.

I appraise the ketchup disapprovingly. "It's not Heinz."

She rolls her eyes. "I think it'll do just fine."

"I'm not eating this."

She kisses me again, and her lips taste like the vanilla lip gloss she took from me an hour ago and ketchup. Maybe it isn't so bad after all.

"Fine," I growl, taking a bite so big that I almost choke. "Happy."

She nods approvingly. "Very. Now we have to buy you a New York t-shirt."

"Olivia! I live here. Why the hell would I need one of those?"

She shrugs, pulling me toward a stand where a tall African-American guy is selling them.

"Is the goal of today to turn me into a tourist?"

"Yes. Do you want a blue one, a purple one, or a white one?"

I start to think that maybe the deal I was offered turns out better for her than for me after all. "White," I answer through clenched teeth.

She hands me one and takes another for herself, slipping it on over her t-shirt. "Put it on."

"I'm already wearing a shirt."

"Okay," she says in a singsong voice. "As you wish."

I know what that means, so I grudgingly pull the t-shirt over my head. "There."

"Gorgeous," she approves. "Now, the final thing on our agenda. The amusement park!"

That actually isn't so bad. We go on the Ferris wheel and then I point to one of the rides I'd noticed earlier. "Let's go on the Thunderbolt."

For the first time today, Olivia looks uncertain. "I don't think so. You know how I feel about those kinds of things, baby."

"Hey, you dragged me here. You got me on a subway. You got me down to the beach. You got me to eat a hot dog. And you are getting on that ride if I have to carry you there."

She's already looking a bit green and I smile to myself. Revenge is always sweet. But she sighs and nods, following me into one of the cars and clutching the handlebars so tightly her knuckles turn white.

It's not exactly a roller coaster, but the cars tilt and go around the track pretty fast. I love this kind of thing. Needless to say, Olivia doesn't. This is going to be fun.

I wrap an arm around her shoulder, unable to keep the smirk off my face as I say, "Don't worry. You'll love it."

Sure she does. Until the ride starts going backward. The breeze ruffles my hair and it's almost like flying, but then it's over and Olivia stumbles off, puking her guts out in the bushes.

This is a complete cop-out, I think, wanting to kick myself when the realization dawns on me that I'm not going to be getting any tonight. And it's my own damn fault.

Review if you enjoyed this oneshot!