Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone (Dick Wolf is afraid that Mr. D'Onofrio wouldn't want to leave me after I've had my way with him). Though I do LOVE the new Goren, (may all who make bad comments about his weight catch an incurable strain of the plague), I haven't seen enough of him to write for him, so I'm using the earlier Goren: seasons 1, 2, and 3 all mashed together. Enjoy!


I Dream of Goren

Some days, Alexandra Eames wished she wasn't a woman.

The days when that which was in her line of vision was so unbelievably…distracting, she thought it was a miracle she got any work done. The days when she daydreamed like she hadn't since she was 12. The days when…

Well, the days when her partner, Detective Robert Goren, looked hot.

Okay, wait. Hold on. He was hot every day. But once in a while, for no apparent reason, she almost couldn't take it. Like today.

Alex rubbed her eyes in annoyance. She was trying to squeeze out of her mind the thought of Bobby walking into the precinct that morning and sitting down at his desk, smiling about something. It was then she knew it was going to be one of those days.

"Oh, nothing," he'd said when he caught her staring, answering the question he knew she would ask. Looked at her for a few more seconds, then turned his attention to the mess of paperwork on his desk.

She could not blank out the flash of straight, white teeth she'd caught when he turned his smile to her. It was at that moment that a bustle of movement across from her caught her eye. She looked up to see that Bobby had slapped the file he was reading on his desk and had gotten up to stare thoughtfully (and a bit exasperatingly) out the window.

She loved the way he filled whatever frame he happened to be in, or near. His broad shoulders almost touched both sides of it. His own frame, long and lean, was enough to cause her to blush with delight, especially when he stood with his back to her (as he was doing now), his dress shirt stretched taut over his powerful back as he folded his arms across his chest and rested his chin on one palm. Dangerous is the vision of a well-muscled man without his suit jacket.

Eames! Get your ass back to work! She scolded herself. You are paid to serve and protect the citizens of New York City, not stare at Bobby Goren all day.

She sighed and took out the crime scene photos of the file nearest to her. This was the only way to take her mind of her partner: try to contemplate the death and horror of a cold-blooded murder. Her eyes traveled over the blood, the mangled body, the dead man's eyes staring fearfully, wide open. She felt a knot in her throat, a tear in her eyes. Swallowing forcefully, she went to stand next to Bobby at the window.

"Lincoln case?" he asked knowingly, without looking at her.

She nodded, picking at a small piece of lint on her sweater.

He let out a rush of breath. "We'll never understand it. They'll always be one step ahead of us, always ready to undermine us." He tapped the windowsill with one fingernail. "Let's look at something else." He lay one hand on her shoulder, long fingers splayed. She allowed him to lead her gently back to their desks.

Quickly shoving the pictures in the file, Alex concentrated on the warmth Bobby's hand had left on her shoulder. God, those hands. She lightly ran her finger over the spot, which seemed to be pulsing.

"Hey, Alex," Bobby said, his voice lower than usual. Goosebumps pricked her arms. "Do you have a blue highlighter?"

"Blue?" she asked. He nodded. She searched through the drawer that held all her writing utensils. "Does it have to be blue?" she asked, not finding one.

"Yes," he said, smiling apologetically. The flash of white teeth again. "I'm going through a victim's diary, and I'm working on…"

"The dirty parts?" she asked, grinning.

He held out his hand, palm up, fingers extended to their full length. "Just give me a damn highlighter," he said. It was then she noticed he had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing sinewy forearms.

She picked a green highlighter out of the drawer and handed it to him. As he closed his fingers over it, he caught Alex's smaller ones in his grip. Not noticing at all, he pried off the cap and turned his attention to the small notebook. The smell of highlighter drifted across to her desk, giving her a slight headache, but it wasn't nearly intoxicating as Bobby's fingers on hers. She glanced up to see Bobby almost unconsciously running his fingers through his beautiful, curly salt-and-pepper hair. Another thing that caused her heart to stop: his hair. It started dark at the top, then curled softly around the tips of his ears in a shade of silver that rivaled the necklace she bought last month at Tiffany's. Any doubts she had about gray being sexy disappeared at the mere sight of that perfect mane. She bet it was soft as a puppy's belly, like the gentle caress of–

"Eames!"

Jolted out of her dream state, she looked up to see Bobby staring at her with a confused look on his face. Dear Lord, the eyebrows, the furrowed brow…

"What are you doing?" he asked.

What had she been doing? Please don't let it be something embarrassing.

"You're making lines all over your notes."

She looked down and say that she had drawn lines back and forth over her very detailed notes, making the motion of running her hands through his hair. "Uh…" What could she say? I was dreaming about your hair? The thought was laughable.

Bobby raised his eyebrows, straightened his tie and went back to painting the diary green.

Alex was very fond of Bobby's ties (he had an uncanny ability to pick out the perfect tie for every outfit) but she was fonder of the times he wasn't wearing one. Once in a while, he opened the top button of his shirt to reveal an extra, tantalizing bit of creamy flesh that was normally hidden. Those were the times when she had to fight for control. She could never forget the memory of him interrogating the creep who had killed a woman, then hid her body in his accomplice's mother's basement. Heat rose in her face as she remembered him leaning close to the man as he interrogated him; the rise and fall of his voice and his oh-so-expressive, finely arched eyebrows causing her to grip hear seat with both hands to control herself. If there ever was, this was a man who could make you spill with one gentle raise of an eyebrow.

"Bathroom break," she said, getting up from her desk. Bobby only nodded slightly, his eyelashes fluttering.

Letting the bathroom door swing shut behind her, she leaned against the wall and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.

Bobby, Bobby! She thought. Why do you always have to look so impeccably handsome? She almost couldn't bear him in his neat shirts and pants, matching tie lying straight down the middle of his chest, tie clip in perfect place. But them she remembered him in his casuals. The jeans, the black t-shirt, the brown leather jacket. Or white shirt under a green jacket. Seeing him in those jeans sent shivers down her spine. They fit in all the right places, accentuating his well rounded–

At that moment, someone burst into the bathroom, causing the door to hit the wall.

"Oh, hey, Vivian," said Alex, seeing her friend lean against the wall next to her, smiling from ear to ear.

"Hey, Alex," said Vivian, her breath catching in her throat.

"What's gotten into you?" Alex asked, almost not wanting to know.

"Your partner," said Vivian, laughing at her own joke.

Alex felt a pang of jealousy, though she knew Bobby and Vivian weren't dating (Bobby barely knew who Vivian was). Must have passed her a sugar packet for her coffee. Ale thought, knowing Vivian could get all swoony if a man such as Bobby Goren so much as handed her a Styrofoam cup.

"So, what? Did he kiss you? Embrace you? Pass your desk?" Alex asked mock-seriously.

Vivian paused, apparently for dramatic effect. "He looked at me," she whispered.

Alex couldn't blame her for almost losing control when Bobby's eyes met hers. It had happened to her more times than she could count. When those chocolate browns locked in on you, there was no turning back. The intensity of his gaze was enough to set her heart on fire.

"The second our eyes met I almost ripped his shirt off and–" Vivian began giddily.

"Sorry, Vivian," Alex interrupted. Either she was in the bathroom listening to Vivian swoon over Bobby, or out at her desk staring at the man himself. "Got a lot of cases to look at. I'm gonna…" She trailed off and opened the door.

"I'd like to get a look at–"began Vivian, but Alex rolled her eyes and let the door swing shut.

Bobby looked up and set the diary down as she got to her desk. "Wanna get lunch?" he asked.

"Sure," Alex responded. She had completely forgotten that she needed to eat. "Caspari's?" she asked, naming their favorite diner.

He nodded, scratching the back of his neck and grabbing his coat. Alex grabbed hers and put it on.

"Is that suede?" Bobby asked, running his fingers lightly over her coat.

"Why yes, it is," she smiled, as she noticed Vivian walking by, a look of pure jealously on her face.

"Here are the keys," said Bobby. He placed the keys in her hand and entwined his fingers with hers for a millisecond. Vivian looked like she was about to pop an artery. Alex winked at her.

"Come on, my sweet Alex. Lunch time," Bobby said like a true gentleman, placing one hand on the small of her back.

Or maybe she was glad she was a woman.

END


Note from SuperCellist: I know, it's been years since I last published. My brain just stopped working after my last story, and didn't start again until a few days ago. And yes, this isn't my regular SVU story, but, as you can tell from the story, I am so in love with Vincent D'Onofrio. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism or whatever. I'm a little rusty from not writing for so long.