Title: Untitled
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Pairing: Alex/Olivia
Summary: Liv goes to pick Alex up for dinner (it's not supposed to be a date) and sees something interesting.
Rating: PG-13 for cussing
Disclaimer: Don't sue, I own nothing.
Spoilers: None
Author's Note: Ok, so maybe it's not the most interesting concept, but fck it. It's about time I got to work writing more, anyway. Apologies if it's OOC, this is my first Law & Order: SVU fic. I'm not planning on adding to this, but if enough people show an interest I might.

Warning: This story centers on a relationship between two women. If that's not your cup o' tea, then bugger off.

Enjoy!

Olivia

"Hey. Sorry - could you wait a few minutes?" She asks, words tumbling from her mouth in a rush. She blushes slowly, grinning sheepishly. …well shit.

She's still in the suit from earlier, her hair now up in a messy ponytail. "Yeah, sure." She's hardly even said five words to me so far and I'm acting like a 15 year old on her first date. Christ. "That, uhm, that'd be fine."

She flashes a smile, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Great. Come in, get comfortable. I'll just be a minute."

Alex

Snatching a pillow off my bed I bury my face in it, rasping a scream. I don't trust myself to scream all-out, afraid Olivia would hear. 'Get comfortable'? God, I feel like a pimp. Or a John-Jane? I don't-ugh. Shut UP Alex. Just focus on getting dressed. Worry about the rest later. Dropping the pillow, I inhale slowly, trying to make sense out of the mess in my room. "Ok, Alex, you CAN do this. Just...think." Great, now I'm talking to myself.

"Why is always be so hard to decide what to wear?" And….I'm still talking to myself. Ok, think. Liv's dressed casual. I might as well go with the flow. I finally decide on a pair of jeans and a blouse, not wanting to totally match Olivia's outfit.

Olivia

Alex goes into the other room, door closing softly behind her.

Too anxious to sit, I drift around the room, taking in details; the small kitchen, black appliances and spotless, sparkling granite countertops. A slight twinge of regret settles in deep in my gut at the contrast between Alex and me. I'm not that messy…doesn't matter anyway. Trying to forget the disappointment to take advantage of this window into Alex's personal life, I turn away from the kitchen and into the living room.

A bookcase full of books and picture frames stands against one wall, Alex's computer sitting on a desk tucked away in a corner next to the set of shelves. Curious, I gravitate to the bookcases, examining the photos and book titles.

Alex

She's standing right there when I open the door, not even 3 feet away and completely oblivious. The words – what words, I don't know anymore – die in my throat at the look on her face, and the photo she holds in her hand.

Oh…dear. Sinking into the doorframe at the conversation ahead of me, I hardly resist the urge to lock myself in the bathroom. With all the strength it takes to just clear my throat to get her attention, I might as well be trying to lift a car.

Her head snaps up and I can read her expression perfectly.

Caught red-handed.

Olivia

The wooden frame is old and worn smooth, obviously hand-made; by whom, I can only guess. One side holds a black-and-white photo of a much-younger Alex caught mid-laughter, her head thrown back with one arm around the woman next to her as they sit side-by-side on a bench somewhere. On a college campus, perhaps? They're both wearing winter coats, and the woman in Alex's arms sits facing her, one leg tucked under the other, one hand having slipped between the buttons on the pea coat past-Alex wears in the photo.

The second photo isn't even a year old. And it's the two of us. And Munch, and Fin…Elliot had to promise to hide Kathy's camera in his desk at the station to get me to that damned cookout in something other than jeans and a nice tshirt. Something about a bet he had going with Munch and Fin; he promised to cut me in on his half, and he knew I was short on money…damn him…

Munch and Fin stand on either side of me, holding me back from beating the crap out of Elliot…turns out there was a bet, but he left out a few details…like the part where getting a picture of me was part of the bet…

Alex is off to the right in the photo, in startlingly crystal clear contrast to the struggle between me and Munch and Fin: a flimsy, satiny skirt falls to her knees, the sleeveless shirt hugging her curves in all the right places. Mischief twists her expression into a decidedly wicked smirk and I wonder for the first time if she was in on it the whole time.

A chill races down my back at the sound of Alex clearing her throat. How long has she been standing there? "Oh, I...I was just…" The words die in my throat (she wouldn't have believed them, anyway), the look on her face registering in my brain. Does she know? Could she...tell? Shit.

She takes a half-step forward, gently pulling the picture frame from my hand. "Her name was Luce," she says with a smirk, staring down at the photos in her hand. "Come on, Liv." My stomach flips at the sound of my nickname on her lips as she reaches for my hand. "There's something I need to tell you," she finishes, her hand warm in mine, and the bottom drops out of my stomach.

Oh my God…I think she does...