one-shot; but love is only a word
pairing: dominick "sonny" carisi jr./amanda rollins
word count: 2053 words
begin
They lay curled up together in Amanda's bed, basking in the afterglow of their combined pleasure. She's tucked in the crook of his arm, her hand on his chest, and he moves to hold her closer, wrapping his arm around her bare shoulders and pressing a kiss on top of her head.
"We have the early shift tomorrow." She mumbles sleepily, hooking her leg around his.
"Yeah..." he says, stroking her arm lazily. "I've set the alarm."
She responds by yawning widely, and burrows deeper into the circle of his arms, making herself comfortable.
He pulls up the quilt to cover them both, as he thinks about the thing he wants to tell her. He's wanted to tell her that for a very long time, heck, even before they started this whole thing, but whenever he wants to say it, he always hesitates, and draws back and then he doesn't say anything.
Because he doesn't know she'll react, because he's afraid of the consequences it might bring if it's out there, in the open.
But he should say it, because it's how he feels and he wants her to know.
"Amanda...I love you." He says, words tumbling out in a rush. He's said it, he's finally said it, and as he waits for her reaction, he hears his heartbeat in his ears.
She doesn't move a muscle, as a gentle snore emits from her, where her face is still pressed against his chest.
He stares down at her in slight disbelief, and groans inwardly. Just as he has finally worked up the courage to say those words, she falls asleep.
It's like something out of a bad romance movie.
Carisi doesn't say it again for a long time. He actually planned on blurting it out again the very next morning, but they had woken up late, and there was a mad rush for work. On top of it, the cases were piling up, and both Liv and Barba were in perpetually horrible and demanding moods.
The week that followed was stressful and exhausting, and both of them just had enough time and energy to have a short session of playtime with Jesse after work before ultimately collapsing in front of the TV with takeaway or delivery.
There was no time for him to think about it, to dwell on it...but he loves her, he really does, and he really wants to tell her that.
She kisses him after they've tucked Jesse safely into bed, pushing him up against the wall outside Jesse's room, her fingers meshed up in his hair.
His lips nip at hers as his hands slide across her body to the line of her spine, and she arches towards him. Her mouth is familiar to him, just as her body is.
They stumble into the bedroom together, laughing breathlessly between kisses. His legs hit the edge of the bed and he sits down, pulling her to his lap. She straddles him, and pushes him down on the bed. She takes off her top, and leans down, welding her lips to his, and he runs his hand up her thigh, and he thinks about her, him, them, and it just comes out.
"I love you," he whispers into her mouth. "I love you."
Amanda freezes, and pulls back, clambering off his body, pushing her hair out of her face. She looks at him, conflicting emotions on her face, and he feels his heart sink.
"Okay." She says slowly.
He sits up, and looks at her with serious eyes as she bites her lip. Even though he's expecting this reaction from her, it doesn't make it hurt any less.
"You don't have to say it back." He shrugs, in an attempt affect nonchalance.
She swallows once, and then leans closer to him, pressing a soft, chaste kiss at the side of his mouth. She slips her arms around him and hugs him, her chin on his shoulder.
He supposes he should be grateful that she's still there with him, that she didn't just run out of the room, that she hasn't left him (yet).
The next morning, Amanda walks into the kitchen where Carisi is making pancakes, flipping them expertly at the stove. Jesse is all dressed, and is sitting in her baby chair, a bowl of pureed carrots in front of her.
"Lucy will be over in about fifteen minutes to pick Jesse up, and she'll drop her and Noah off at day care." He says, still standing at the stove and not looking at her.
She nods, and grabs a banana from the fruit bowl, putting it beside the cup of coffee that Carisi had brewed. She picks up Jesse from her chair, and gives her daughter a cuddle and a kiss.
He sets down the pancakes on the table, and looks at her, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Amanda...look. I just need to know. Are we...you know, okay?"
She feels overwhelmed with guilt; he shouldn't be the one asking her this. She should be the one asking him this.
She walks up to him, still carrying Jesse with one arm, and rests her palm on his cheek. "We are."
"And this..." he makes a gesture, hands twirling around her kitchen, her apartment. "Is this what you want?"
"Dominick..." she leans against him, as Jesse chuckles and waves a fist at Carisi. "It is. This what I want. I...just..."
Give me time. I need time. She wants to say it, but she doesn't, because it just seems so lame, like the crappiest excuse ever, even if it isn't.
He doesn't push anymore. He accepts it when she says they are okay, and he's just going to stay with that.
Carisi doesn't say it anymore, tries not to even think about it (except that he sees her every day, and he loves her so much, and it's nearly fucking impossible not think about it).
But it eats at him, even though they go on with their life together as he knows it. They go to work, they solve cases, they put away criminals, they take care of Jesse, they play with Jesse, he cooks dinner, they go out when he doesn't cook, they have sex. It's all so normal and familiar, like nothing has happened, like he hasn't told he loves her.
He kind of really needs to know where he stands in all of this.
"I love you." He tells her again one night, when Jesse is asleep and they're both curled up on the couch watching Cutthroat Kitchen.
She stiffens, and sits up, and before she can say a word, he rushes on. "Amanda, I'm not trying to pressure you into anything, but I just need to know whether..." his voice trails off, and he thinks if he finishes that sentence, he's just going to sound very needy and kind of pathetic.
"Dominick, you know how I feel about you. This is not just...some random fling to me. You know this."
He looks at her steadily. "But you can't say you love me. Is it because you don't?"
She closes her eyes, and the words stick to her throat. Her face flushes, her breath hitches, and to her horror, she almost feels like crying.
He looks at her with an expression of alarm, and in a flash, he has her in his arms, stroking her hair. "Look...let's forget about this. I'm sorry, okay?" He says awkwardly.
Swallowing hard, she presses her face into the hollow of his throat. "Every man that I've ever said that to...left me." She says after a moment, hating the catch in her voice.
Her first college boyfriend. And another one, whom she thought she may marry. Nick. Declan.
Everyone thought Jesse is the product of a one-night-stand, or some torrid, empty, temporary affair, but the truth is, she had loved him, and he didn't love her (or Jesse) enough to sacrifice his career and his fight for justice.
Carisi stills for a moment, and then he pulls her onto his lap, kissing her forehead. "You're not getting rid of me that easily." He says, smoothing his hands through her hair and down her back.
She clutches his shirt, but she says nothing.
Carisi doesn't tell Amanda he loves her anymore, because it's not something that makes her happy. He learns to be okay with it, to be content with the life that they are building together with Jesse.
He believes her when she says she's not going to leave. He sees all her efforts in making everything work. They're still going home together.
Maybe that could be enough.
Amanda is thankful for the space he gives her. It's not like she doesn't love him – she kinda thinks she actually loves him a lot – but words are such fragile things. She doesn't know what is it in her that's stopping her from giving words to her feelings.
But she wants to be able to say it.
She thinks she will say it someday.
Carisi turns his key in the lock, mentally calculating the time he has to cook dinner. Amanda had left earlier, but he had to stop by Barba's offce after work, and got carried away arguing with the counselor about a particular point of the case (he's pretty sure he won the argument, although Barba is more likely to cut his own tongue out before admitting that, ever).
He walks into the apartment, and is greeted by the smell of food.
"Wow." He says, hanging up his coat and looking at her in disbelief.
She turns at the sound of his voice. She's standing at the stove, stirring at something in the pot, stray tendrils of blonde hair escaping her bun.
"Errr...what are you doing?" He asks, walking into the kitchen and loosening his tie.
"Cooking." She says briskly.
"But why?"
"What, I can't do something nice for you?" She asks snippily.
He grins, and kisses her cheek. "Of course you can. And thank you very much. Amanda Rollins as a domestic is such a nice surprise."
She snorts. "Don't get used to it, you're back on kitchen duty tomorrow. This is a one-off thing." She turns her attention back to the stove, wrinkling her nose at the stew. It doesn't seem quite right.
He loops his arms loosely around her waist, and kisses her neck. "Oh, I won't, but I'll treasure this. Let me snap a photo and send this to Fin..."
She continues stirring, shivering a little at the sensation of his lips moving along her neck. "God, you can be such an ass sometimes, Carisi. You're just lucky that I love you."
He stills. She sucks in a breath, and her stirring spoon clatters into the pot.
That was not how she plans on saying that. Far from it.
He's reaching in front of her and turning the gas off, and pulling her away from her pots. "Wait...I mean..." she says helplessly as he turns her around.
"You said it," he says, his eyes wide.
She shuts her eyes for a long moment before looking at him again. "Well, I didn't say I was never gonna say it," she says crossly, her entire body hot.
He cups her face in his hands, thumb brushing her cheek, and then he kisses her hard. Her hands slides down to the waistband of his pants, untucking his shirt and searching out bare skin.
"You didn't think I would ever, did you?" she asks breathlessly.
"Doesn't matter what I think. You said it." He murmurs.
"I do, you know. Love you." She says, her hands warm on the bare skin of his back. The words come to her so naturally now that she wonders why she even struggled with them in the first place.
He doesn't think he'll be hearing these words from her – ever – and hearing them now is everything. "I love you, too."
She laughs, drawing him closer to her, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fall onto the floor. He unpins her messy bun, and runs his hands through her hair as he pushes her shirt aside to kiss her shoulder.
The stew sits on the stove, neither of them remembers it.
He isn't going anywhere, ever. And neither is she.
end