Out of nowhere, it all became clear as day. Which was an unusual shift from the previously foggy, questionable state that Liv had been living in. Her thoughts, desires and daydreams rose out of the smog as she finally accepted that there was no more self-deception to be indulged in. Her curiosities about Alex solidified into truths, and one of these truths was that she thirsted for Alex. She thirsted for her mind, her wit, her deep, harsh pools of blue eyes, the sharpness of her hummingbird nose, the dexterity of her fingers, her actions guided by morals rooted so deep that she'd never need a compass to find them. The husk of her voice, occasionally lightened in timbre by sarcasm or an unusual bout of gratitude, was now undoubtedly sexy to Liv, as opposed to the nasal or throaty tone that others heard. Her uptight demeanor and dress was no longer dull, but now struck curiosity in her, knowing that her workplace attire and affect did not always reflect her inner workings. Liv longed to know the nuances of Alex's true personality- what genres of film she enjoys, what she chooses for dessert on her birthday, how she spends a lazy Saturday morning, what she wears under her navy blue suit, what or who crosses her mind when she's struck by lust, how warm or cold each fingertip, nipple, inch of neck would feel against Liv's swollen lips. Liv knew that there was nothing that she wouldn't love about her. She wanted to know each subtlety of her persona. She almost didn't mind keeping a healthy, platonic distance from Alex. Almost.

Liv began to appreciate the small pleasures Alex delivered that would likely go unnoticed by the average eye. Alex's cranberry lips would part out of frustration, concentration or puzzlement. Her fear was hardly detectable, except for when it flashed through her icy blues- here, terror was almost obvious. Her legs would cross and uncross in attempts to find comfort in her rigid skirt, and her fingers would drum against the desk she otherwise languidly sat on, or her hips, or on her other fingers in a small display of anxiety. Her exasperation often took the form of blame, but Liv didn't mind. Because that meant arguing. And arguing with Alex meant closeness, passion; a glimpse of who she was, not what her job made her appear to be. The rawness was hot and feisty, and as much as she hated fighting with her, she craved the passion too much to let an opportunity to argue pass. That was as close to being "close" with Alex as she had ever gotten.

Until now.

Actually, she wouldn't call it close- she moreso witnessed an event that led to the potential for closeness (in proximity, emotionally, and sexually)- or, on the flipside, also led to the potential for a brick wall, a soiled professional and personal relationship.

It did not begin as a notable day. They were working on a case that had moved to the trial portion- and Liv was required to testify. Regardless of how many times she had done it, and how important she knew it was to stand up for the victims, it never got any easier, or palatable. It was always unnatural and uncomfortable for Liv to speak up on the stand. So, as usual, she was going to prepare with Alex beforehand. Not like usual, however, she was going to Alex's apartment to practice and to look over some documents for court. Needless to say, Liv was ecstatic at the opportunity to gain a new perspective on Alex through her abode.

The night before their meeting, Liv must have changed her outfit fifteen times. She ultimately decided on a pair of dark jeans and the most revealing v-neck sweater she owned. With shame, and wishfully thinking, she put on a matching pair of lace black underwear before work, knowing she likely wouldn't have time to stop home beforehand. On the way to Alex's, she stopped by a liquor store and picked up a bottle of white and a bottle of red, to be safe. Breaking a sweat, she jogged down the stairs leading to the metro. She listened to her favorite songs on the way to Alex's apartment, tapping her heel on the filthy subway floor with anxious energy. It was only a short while before she arrived at the door to Alex's luxurious apartment building- showing up remarkably early. Knowing Alex, Liv figured, she'd be expecting Liv early- they always aimed to run ahead of schedule in their work affairs when possible. They were no strangers to surprise visits to each others' offices, occasionally with a coffee or tea in tow. So when Alex said she'd be home at 5:30 and ready for Liv to come over when she got off of work at 7, Liv knew she could head over early when she got out at 6. Alex told her to shoot her a text when she arrived, and to let herself in with the door code she provided. Liv texted her at 6, and didn't think twice about the fact that Alex had not yet responded.

After checking in with the door man and navigating the enigma of an elevator (she had never seen so many letters on elevator buttons before), Liv reached Alex's door at 6:23. She punched in the code that Alex had given her, and walked in.

"Hello!" She half-bellowed in a sing-songy voice, so that her arrival would be announced. But she heard no Alex- only music humming loudly through an ajar door at the end of the living room.

Setting the wine down on the kitchen counter, Liv quietly padded over to the open door where the music was drifting out of. She expected the blonde to be reading, taking notes, or doing some sort of chore. Drying her hair, or putting on makeup. What Liv did not expect to see, through the wide open door of the somewhat small apartment, was a disheveled Alex, hair half-matted to her head and sprawled out on her pillow, loose oversized shirt pushed up to reveal her stomach and the bottom of a bare, swollen breast. She didn't anticipate the dewy sweat collecting on Alex's forehead or her arctic eyes to be squeezed tightly shut.

Jesus, Liv thought, the words almost escaping her lips. She quickly backpedalled away from the doorway, fearful that Alex would spot her. She closed her eyes and unsuccessfully attempted to regulate her now quick, shallow breathing. She wasn't sure how to get herself out of this mess, even as a detective. There was no winning, really. If she turned around and left, she'd have to collect her wine bottles from the kitchen, open and close the front door, only to risk being heard or seen and caught leaving, which would be more than mildly uncomfortable. It would be undoubtedly more awkward to be caught watching her, or to wait in the living room for her to come out of her bedroom. Liv was paralyzed with fear, but also by lust.

From inside the bedroom, Liv heard the quiet rustling of legs shifting under sheets, then nothing, then some irregular and labored breathing. A tiny, almost unrecognizable moan, which was more of a breathy, needy exhale. And then she heart the sound that wetness makes when-

and that was when, against all logic and moral reasoning, she tiptoed two steps closer to the doorway and peeked out to take another glimpse.

It wasn't what you'd call a "pretty sight" by typical standards. Alex was more than slightly disheveled, her hair was still wet and tangled from just taking a shower, it didn't look like she had makeup on, and her body was not-so-gracefully sprawled out, almost spread-eagle, on the stark white duvet that adorned her king size bed. Her back was not arched up high like those scenes in the movies, Liv noted to herself, and her urgent fingers were moving erratically against her center underneath black satin cheekies. But Liv was aroused by the authenticity of it all: Alex, half-naked in her bed, all alone, ungracefully attempting to scratch an itch before her meeting.

Her meeting, with Liv.

Did that meeting have anything to do with Alex's actions?

Liv couldn't help but wonder. Sure, more likely than not, it was a coincidence that Alex was touching herself before the meeting. People did it all the time. Even composed, reserved, incredible Alex. But Liv clung on to the hope that Alex was trying to lessen her own desires during their meeting by addressing them beforehand.

But who knows.

Liv couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of Alex, who still had her own eyes closed tight in concentration. Her thick, cranberry lips were pressed tightly shut, similar to the way she would sometimes keep them during an encounter with a particularly despicable suspect. Her hips were slowly moving here and there, twitching as her fast-moving fingers hit a particular spot. As Alex grew more and more restless and presumably closer to orgasm, Liv's panic began to rise. She had a decision to make. As much as she wanted to stand there and watch Alex's bliss as she climaxed, she couldn't ignore the guilt over the sheer invasion of privacy, as well as the awkwardness that would arise from Alex's realization that Liv had witnessed her in the act. Counting her blessings that she was amazingly able to enter without being noticed, Liv took one last look at her beautiful body, burned it deep into her memory, and silently padded into the kitchen, daintily lifting up the bottles of wine, and opened the door-

until crash. The bottle of white slipped out of her grip and shattered all over the tile flooring of the hallway and the entrance of Alex's apartment.

Oh shit, oh shit, Liv thought. At least she had gotten halfway out of the apartment, so it could look like she was just entering for the first time.

It didn't take long for Alex to yelp an "oh my god" and to leap out of bed and slam her door closed. After a few seconds, she poked her head out of the door frame, icy eyes in a state of panic, and saw Liv trying to pick up shards of glass off of the kitchen floor.

"I am so, so sorry for making a mess, I'll clean it right up!" Liv gasped out, forgetting pleasantries, flustered from the series of events over the past few minutes.

Alex stared at her, trying to gauge if Liv had seen anything compromising or not. "No worries at all, Liv. This place is a mess anyways and it's only white wine, at least." She let out a smile, albeit a nervous one. "Let me help you, but I just got out of the shower, so I need to throw some clothes on first, okay?"

Liv smiled and nodded as Alex shut her door again, this time softly. Liv heard her footsteps padding across the bedroom. She busied herself by picking up some large clear shards off of the hardwood flooring, setting them in piles on the granite bar countertop that lay perpendicular to the door. Liv heard the sound of running water coming from the other room.

Erasing the evidence, Liv thought. Some extended moments later, Alex returned to the living room in a pair of black leggings and a tight turtleneck sweater, hair still damp but fastened into a low bun behind her neck. Liv let herself drink in the sight of Alex in casual attire for a moment before standing up to get a roll of paper towels. Alex, noticing the piles of broken glass on the countertop, brought over a small trashcan and set it on the ground, kneeling down next to Liv. "This might help," she said with a smile.