Hi there... *waves awkwardly* Me again. This little ditty is set immediately following Dreams Deferred, one of my most faaaaavorite episodes. I was watching it and caught just an itty bitty little look between Rollins and Benson and, well, here we are. Experimenting with established Rolivia with this kind of timeline (season 14!) was really fun. Maybe a pet project? We shall see...
Ding.
Elevator doors slide open and Olivia steps out of the vestibule with a relieved sigh, the exhaustion in her bones feeling more pronounced with each step, as if her body can sense how close she is to home.
Making her way down the dim hallway, she breathes deeply through her nose, the aroma of someone else's dinner filling her nostrils and causing a rumble in her stomach as she slides her key in the lock and opens her door.
Instead of the dark silence she expects, however, she can hear the dull sound of the tv in the living room, and movement in her kitchen. And the smell—what she'd thought was someone else's dinner turns out to be hers, a wall of what smells oddly like comfort hitting her full force as soon as she steps through the doorway.
She knows what this means, and she smiles softly as she unhooks her badge and gun from her belt, locking them in the side table by the door and shucking off her suede blazer. "Amanda?" she calls. She steps out of her ankle boots and kicks them out of the way before padding in her socked feet toward the kitchen.
"Hey," Amanda returns, shooting the brunette a grin over her shoulder as she stirs the contents of a steaming pot. "I used my key. Hope you don't mind…"
Olivia shakes her head. "I gave it to you for you to use, remember?" she asks wryly, watching as the younger woman wipes her hands on a dishtowel before covering the short distance across the kitchen to the other woman.
Amanda plants a quick kiss on Olivia's lips before taking the older woman in a warm, but firm hug. Though the brunette is distracted and consumed by thoughts she doesn't fully understand, she finds herself sinking into the embrace, squeezing Amanda tighter against her tired body.
This is their ritual.
Even if it's only been minutes since they've seen each other at the precinct, as soon as they're comfortably ensconced in the safety and privacy of one of their apartments, they hold each other. They relish the closeness they can't indulge in when they're on the clock. They've both been alone the majority of their lives, but they've grown to need this connection—even at the end of the "good" days like this one is supposed to be.
With a final squeeze and a tender kiss to pink lips, Olivia pulls back, fully registering what's going on in her kitchen. "What smells so good?"
"Chicken and dumplin's. MawMaw's famous recipe. You don't wanna know what I had to promise to get her to give it to me," Amanda answers with a smirk, handing Olivia a fresh glass of white wine. She turns her back on her girlfriend, continuing to stir the meal simmering on the seldom-used stove. "I think Pedro would stage an intervention if we ordered takeout again," she adds sardonically, shooting Olivia a look which makes the older woman chuckle.
"That's probably true," the brunette concedes, taking another sip of wine and letting her hip rest against the counter. While Amanda's back is turned to her, Olivia takes a moment to appreciate the other woman. They've come a long way since the blonde first stepped in the squad room a little over a year ago, and the sight of Amanda so comfortable in her home—like she belongs there—makes her smile. "How can I help?"
The blonde waves a wooden spoon at the bar stools on the other side of the counter. "You can sit and enjoy the wine," she says. Her tone leaves no room for argument and Olivia, too tired to argue and knowing better than to try by now, dutifully makes her way around the counter to settle on a stool. "This only needs another minute or two," Amanda winks.
Olivia quietly sips, her mind still racing despite her best efforts to quiet wheels that won't stop spinning. Amanda spares her a glance as she ladles their dinner into bowls. "Jeannie all settled?" she asks knowingly. She had been on the other side of the glass during the intervention they'd staged for the aging working girl, and all through the weekend Amanda had seen that this case, and Jeannie specifically, was wearing on Olivia. SVU's work was done, but the younger woman knew that Olivia wouldn't rest until she made sure Jeannie was taken care of, that she had what she needed.
The brunette sighs, thumbing the stem of the glass. "Yeah," she allows, though her voice doesn't carry the lightness it should. "I think she might actually get this to stick," she muses, brown eyes meeting blue as Amanda puts a bowl in front of her and settles on the stool next to her. She tries a small smile, shrugging as she brings a full spoon up to her lips. "She's got support this time."
Amanda nods, shifting in the stool so their knees are touching and smiling when Olivia compliments the food. "That's a good thing, right?" she asks, redirecting the conversation back to Jeannie. "Support?"
"Yeah…" Olivia trails off.
"But something about that case is still bugging you." Amanda's words are not a question—merely a confirmation of what they both know is true. The older woman's silence stretches on and the blonde lowers a hand to Olivia's thigh, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "Liv...this was the best outcome we could've hoped for considering how that case was dropped in our laps," she reasons.
"I know," Olivia nods, taking another sip of wine. "I'm just thinking about Jeannie—"
"Uh oh," the younger woman interjects, playfully nudging Olivia's foot with one of her own. "Do I have competition?"
Amanda's attempt to get a more genuine smile out of her lover is successful, and she grins around another bite as Olivia rolls her eyes.
"Hardly," the brunette retorts dryly, the corner of her lips lifting in a small smirk before her face grows serious again. "I don't know what it is," she adds, deep in thought.
The next few minutes go in silence as they eat and Amanda watches out of the corner of her eye as Olivia absently pushes the food around the bowl. "Hey," she prods, waiting for warm brown eyes to meet hers before she continues. "You know I'm here, if—"
"I know," Olivia smiles tenderly, covering the younger woman's hand on her thigh and bringing it to her lips. "I know."
It's been over a year since Amanda transferred to the 1-6, and still Olivia isn't quite sure how the younger woman had done it, wormed her way in; the impenetrable walls she built a long time ago turning out to be no match for the stubborn detective.
They're both haunted, but rather than using each other to get lost in their demons, they ended up finding escapes within each other instead. In the beginning, fresh from Elliot's stinging departure, Olivia had resented having to deal with the blonde's presence in her life, having to bring up a "rookie" even though Amanda was anything but.
Over time, though, she was disarmed by Amanda's sincerity. She had been downright cold to her new colleague and thought multiple times that the younger woman must be a glutton for punishment to keep trying—to get to know Olivia, to just be there… Eventually, the blonde detective's persistence paid off and, looking at her now, comfortable in her apartment in lounge pants and a fitted tank top, bare feet swirling youthfully as she turned the stool this way and that, Olivia couldn't imagine her life without the other woman in it.
True, they were still learning each other. And they both had stubborn streaks that had led to some intense arguments, but...they'd also saved each other, in a way, from themselves.
"You done?"
Olivia is jarred from her thoughts by the question, her eyes refocusing to find Amanda standing in front of her, hand out and poised to take the nearly empty bowl and bring it into the kitchen.
"Yeah," Olivia stands, taking the blonde's bowl instead of handing over her own. "But I got this." Amanda opens her mouth to argue, but the older woman preempts her words, pressing a tender kiss to parted lips. "You cooked. I'll clean up."
"You sure?"
"Yes," Olivia smiles, jerking her head toward the couch. "Go. Relax. I'll be right there."
Olivia moves robotically around her kitchen, rinsing and cleaning their dishes before carefully transferring the leftovers into tupperware containers and going through the awkward task of washing the big pot—one she didn't know she owned—in her comically small sink.
Getting out of this endeavor dry is going to be a near impossibility, but it gives her time to think.
This case may not have been a bad one—not by their standards, certainly not when compared to what could've happened, but it weighs on her heavily and deep down, she knows why.
She and Jeannie, though on opposite sides of the law, are not all that different.
What kind of life could Jeannie have had if she'd gotten help or into rehab sooner? If she'd pressed charges and gotten out of the lifestyle when Olivia had saved her from Rasmussen back in '92? What kind of life would Jeannie be living now, where would she be?
It makes Olivia think about her own choices; things she's missed out on because of the job, because of her sense of responsibility to the victims. Where would she be if she'd been able to walk away any of the times she'd wanted to, or felt like she had to for her sanity?
But… She smiles as her eyes find Amanda, lying long-ways across her couch watching some home improvement show on HGTV. It's their guilty pleasure and their favorite way to unwind after seeing what they do day after day—making fun of people who don't realize they can change paint colors and hardware finishes.
Maybe it's a blessing in disguise that she'd let her job become her whole life over the years, she thinks. If she hadn't, would she have met Amanda?
Her identity has almost always been the job. It wasn't until she opened herself up to Amanda that she realized how destructive and limiting that was. The younger woman helped her find an existence outside of SVU, opening her mind to the idea of happiness; the possibility that there is more for her and, perhaps most importantly, that it's not too late to go after it.
Olivia drains the sink, laying the pot across a dish towel to dry and she makes her way toward the bedroom, trailing her fingers along Amanda's arm where it rests along the back of the couch as she goes. "I'm just gonna go change, I'll be right back," she murmurs.
It's only a few minutes before Olivia reemerges, having traded dress pants and a blouse for leggings and a soft cotton t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a loose, messy bun and her face devoid of makeup.
Amanda, whose face is blank as she gets lost in mindless TV, brightens when the older woman enters the room and she immediately sits up, moving forward on the couch and giving Olivia ample space to slide in behind her.
The brunette wraps her arms around the younger woman's waist as Amanda settles against her, squeezing gently and pressing a quick kiss to the soft skin of Amanda's neck. She smiles when the action elicits a low moan from the other woman and pale arms come to cover her own across Amanda's stomach.
"I missed you," the blonde murmurs, sinking deeper into Olivia's embrace.
Given the high profile nature of the Rasmussen case and RDOs being cancelled until it was closed, it had been days since they'd seen each other outside of the precinct. Olivia had been one of the principals with Nick, which meant long days and late nights for the brunette detective.
"Me, too," Olivia whispered.
From a distance, Amanda had watched the older woman throughout this case and could tell it was affecting her; the similarities between she and Jeannie casting a shadow of doubt over Olivia's own life choices, making her wonder what if….
Amanda shifts, lacing her fingers with Olivia's and resting their joined hands against her stomach, letting the silence stretch on while she can practically feel the brunette thinking. "You'll know, Olivia," she murmurs finally, after minutes have gone by. Behind her, Olivia smiles at how easily her lover is able to read her. "When it's time for you to hang it up," Amanda repeats, "you'll know."
Olivia doesn't respond at first, instead squeezing Amanda tighter and burying her face deeper in the other woman's neck, inhaling the sweet scent of berries from her shampoo. Then, when Amanda squirms slightly in her hold, she releases the younger woman, leaning back and giving her room to turn around so they're face to face. Pushing the blonde's unruly bangs off to one side, she smiles as the lock of hair falls right back into place, partially covering one of those gorgeous blue eyes. "How is it you know me so well?" she asks.
Almost shyly, Amanda shrugs, and the gesture is somehow so cute and innocent, Olivia can't help but give her a lopsided grin. "I love ya," the younger woman says simply, by way of explanation.
Brown eyes soften and Olivia reaches up to cup Amanda's cheek, pulling her in for a sweet kiss. She parts her lips against the blonde's, suckling at the other woman's lower lip before pulling away and pressing their foreheads together. "I love you, too," she whispers.
Amanda lowers herself onto the older woman's body, her head resting on Olivia's upper chest so she can feel her lover's steady heartbeat, blonde hair tickling Olivia's chin. She feels Olivia's fingertips tracing random patterns along her back before a warm hand sneaks underneath her tank top to touch her bare skin, and she can't help the light shudder that runs through her body at her lover's touch.
"You're not Jeannie, Liv," Amanda whispers softly. She feels Olivia tense beneath her for half a second before the other woman relaxes again.
Olivia presses a kiss to the top of her head and closes her eyes, her whole body rising as she takes a deep, steadying breath. When she responds, it is so quiet, Amanda feels it almost more than she can hear it. "I know."
It's times like this that Olivia is especially thankful for her relationship with Amanda. Some cases, like this one, it's hard not to end up with her head in the clouds. But Amanda is her tether to reality. She knows to give Olivia the slack to wallow if she needs to, but she never lets Olivia have too much time in her own head before she's pulling her back—back to earth, back to her.
Right now, I see this as more of a one shot than a multi-chapter, but I can be persuaded.
P.S. The muse for Close Call decided to show up while I was at work today, so I have chapter 2 for that sort of outlined (ish). Yay.