Disclaimer: Not mine. Never have been, and sadly… never will be.
A/N: I'm pretty sure that this chapter was supposed to be a lot less funny and a little more serious, but for some reason, I have a tendency to go for comedy over drama… Even though someone cough- VeraBell- cough said my ending to chapter one was a little bit too dramatic. I laughed when I read that. It's ironic- I hardly ever do drama, and yet something I wrote got called dramatic?! LOL… Fucking hilarious… Wish I could share that review with a certain professor of mine who believes I lack the ability to write anything even close to being considered drama… Anyway, okay, so don't get me wrong- there is depth to this chapter… but I can't help but think that you guys are going to laugh more than you're going to go "Aww…" So yeah, let me know what you think, ok?
A/N2: I wrote this instead of doing what I was supposed to do at work this morning. I should feel bad, but I've searched the depths of my soul and the only thing I feel is myself looking forward to reviews...
The Trials of Love
-iheartSVUandNCIS
Three hours of going over the testimony of an eye witness and the testimony of a child psychologist, and I'm confident that I can chew holes in the defense's case. I slide photos of the victim and the results of the rape kit back into the folder. Despite the graphic and horrific material inside the folder in my hand, I can't help but smile as my eyes fall on the familiar, slanted scrawl in the margins of the report.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes and letting out a sigh. My shoulders ache, my eyes are burning, and I have a headache that was conceived in the pit of hell.
Probably from not eating, you moron…
I rest my head in my hands, and when I hear a knock at my door, I don't even bother to look up. I don't care who is at my door. It could be the President, and I would tell him, politely, of course, to go make love to himself…
"Hey…" Your voice floats into my office, and I can't stop myself from looking up.
I somehow manage to muster a small smile.
So much for not caring who's at my door…
"Come in."
I motion for you to let yourself in, and when you do, you head straight for my couch, flopping down loudly and letting out a long sigh.
"If anyone calls and asks for me, I'm not here, okay?" You say, stretching out and trying to make yourself comfortable.
You seem restless, agitated even.
"I just saw you three hours ago… what could have possibly happened since then?"
I know I sound amused… because I am. Your occasional flare for the dramatic never ceases to amaze and amuse me.
"I'm pretty sure Sam tried to get me to break a few laws, that's all." You say, rolling from your side onto your back.
For some reason, I cannot stop staring at you. My posh upbringing and the rules of propriety that were drilled into me as a child have alarm bells going off in my head, telling me that my eyes are drinking you in, and that my sips are just a little too long…
To hell with propriety…
Maybe it's what you're wearing. Your jeans seem to be hugging your hips a little tighter than usual, and your black button up shirt is clinging to impossibly amazing breasts… which just so happen to almost be on display, the top three buttons of your shirt unbuttoned… and please, God… don't get me started on that jacket…
"I was under the impression that ADA's are sworn to uphold the law."
You sit up and let out another sigh. My smile widens as I watch you slouch deep into my couch, and I can't help but wonder what my mother would say about your posture. I find you to be completely charming. My mother on the other hand? She would interpret your casual, laidback style as uncivilized and inappropriate.
Sit up straight, Alexandra, and force the world to take notice of your importance…
"I think our third date was our last date… She's a little too… I don't want to say that she's…" You are rambling, and it's adorable, and all I can do is sit behind my desk and wonder what the hell you are trying to say.
"Aggressive?"
I can't help but bring up your adjective from our earlier conversation. The look on your face tells me that that's not quite the word you were looking for.
"She's a bit too… forward." You say, and suddenly, your brown eyes are downcast, studying your boots.
Too forward? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
"She seemed friendly enough."
For the life of me, I have no idea what I'm supposed to say. I feel like jumping up and down for joy. I feel like a giddy teenager who has just been handed tickets to some sold out boy band concert, only I could give two shits about the boy part of all of that.
If whatever was starting between you and her is already over, then there's a good chance…
"She was all over me… in public… She shoved her tongue down my throat and her hand down my shirt outside of the precinct! Elliot and Fin almost got a free show… I backed away, then told her to lose my number…" You say, making eye contact with me for only a second before you glance back down to your boots.
The fact that my blood pressure just shot up does absolutely nothing to encourage my headache to go back to the seventh circle of hell. I close my eyes and once again, my head is in my hands. All I can think about right now is choking the living shit out of that blonde headed, no good, slut who has probably seen more ass than a public bathroom…
"What a whore."
My little slip causes you to laugh. Apparently, you agree with my assessment.
"It's not that I'm not affectionate… it's just… well, I've learned my lesson. I want a relationship, something that's going to last. I have a strong desire, a need… to settle down." Your confession is strong, and I can tell that there's truth to it, can hear the conviction in your voice.
I sit up straight in my chair, allowing myself to study you closely as you sit across from me, looking more than a little dejected.
"You deserve to be with someone who knows that, who feels the same way. Don't settle for less than you deserve, Liv…"
I want to tell you how I feel about you, how I have felt for so long… I want to tell you that I've fallen in love with you, that I want to be the one who gives you what you need, what you want… what you deserve…
"I'm just not sure I have what it takes to make it last, to be in a real relationship, to love and allow myself to be loved. It's not something I've ever been able to do, and I'm not sure if I even know how to love. Sucks, huh?" Your words cut me to the bone, leave me feeling as if I have nothing to offer you.
I can't believe you're opening up to me like this. I can't believe that I don't have what it takes to just come right out and say what needs to be said, what you need to hear… I can't believe that I'm just sitting here, listening… instead of telling you…
I'm so in love with you…
"All you need is for someone to come along, someone who will love you the way you need to be loved, the way you deserve to be loved… Love isn't a skill easily mastered, but with the right one, with the one who is willing to love you with all their heart, mind, body, and soul… It's possible to learn how to love."
And I wish I could be the one to teach you…
A lack of hope in your eyes, you toss a lopsided grin my way, and once again, I am reminded that you truly are the strongest person I know.
"You almost make it sound believable." You say, and all over your face, despite the smile, is written the sad story of a woman who has been pushed around and broken down too many times to still believe that she is worthy of being loved.
Everyone who has ever left a scar on you, everyone who has ever hurt you, made you feel unlovable… they are officially at the top of my shit list.
"Do you have plans for tonight?"
The question has slipped out before I even have time to think about whether or not I should even attempt to go down this road with you. We have established a friendship, and I'm not sure if I should risk losing what we have worked so hard to slowly build.
You shrug.
"I've already called it a day, told Cragen I needed some time. I was planning to order from Lido's once I got home, lasagna and breadsticks.. If you're interested, I could make it dinner for two. I even have a bottle of wine…" You offer, the look on your face telling me that you don't really expect me to take you up on it.
I'm about to tell you that I would love to join you when my stomach growls, causing you to smile, and me to blush a little.
"Guess that's a yes, huh?" You ask, laughing.
I nod, sliding a few files into my briefcase, then I sling it over my shoulder. I stand, heading over to the visitor's chair across from my desk, and grab my jacket.
"I say we get out of here. Sound like a plan to you?"
You stand up, flashing me a beautiful smile, and my heart starts to race as you reach out and take my jacket from me, offering to help me slip it on.
"Why, Cabot, are you telling me that all it takes to get you to neglect your commitment to justice is amazing Italian food and a bottle of great wine?" You ask, and I slip into my jacket with a smile.
Like I would say no to spending time with you… I've only been trying to spend time with you every day for the past three or four months… All the invitations to join me for lunch… all the times I've asked if you wanted to go get a drink, or grab a bite to eat for dinner…
"Add good company to that list, and yes… I'm inclined to allow the world to save itself from itself for awhile."
I turn off my lamp, and once we are outside of my office, I make sure my door is locked before we are on our way to your apartment.
