Notes: So, with a lot of more time due to the current global Corona Virus crisis I had a bit of time to write.

To get to reviews: I KNOW Ambrose needs to tell Liv about Claire. I know. But do you know when you missed the opportunity once and then you missed it twice and somehow it wasn't the right time when it's come up the third time? You know it needs to be addressed but each time you didn't only seems to make it much harder? That's what's going on here. I know it seems like he's being a dick but he's... well... he's really not - at least he's not doing it to purposely hurt anyone. That being said... things are heating up.

...

Olivia is grateful to get a break, fairly certain she is going to roll her eyes at the next guy who's going to let their eyes rake all over her body. Olivia knows she might as well take it as a compliment but it's quite tiring. Being a woman is not an actual accomplishment, so she doesn't understand all that ogling from the men in the room. She has just become Sergeant and is now heading Special Victims. Not a single person has forwarded congratulations for that. As she leans against the wall and pulls her phone out of her clutch a content smile settles on her face. Ambrose had tried to call her and sent her a couple of messages, inquiring about her ‚work thing', encouraging her to let the champagne work for her. Reading his words she laughs, throwing her head back a little as she types in a message of her own. From the corner of her eye she sees Nick walking towards her, both hands shoved into his pockets, his suit jacket open.

„Catching a break?"

„Something like that," she smiles, pushing the button on the right side of her iPhone. The screen goes dark. „Trying to envision myself doing what I intended to do. Remind me why I'm here?"

„Because Dodds told you to be here? You're one of the big shots now, time to suck it up to people," he grins. „So, you had actual plans?"

„Absolutely. They involved my very good friend Merlot and a hot bath, maybe a movie." Her phone lights up with a message.

12/31/2013 10:23 pm

Ambrose

I'm living a pretty sad existence here. To answer your question: No, I'm not doing anything. It's pretty boring. Let's kill two birds with one stone: you sneak out and come here. I'm saving you from your Chief and you're saving me from finishing that pizza I'm about to order by myself. :-p

Feeling Nick's inquisitive eyes on her as she reads the text, Olivia bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling. She wonders if that's an invitation hiding behind the tongue-out emoji, realizing she'd rather be anywhere but here. And spending time with Ambrose, that actually makes her feel very excited.

„Something important?" Amaro asks.

Olivia sees through his nonchalance and shrugs easily. „Nah. Just my brother telling me Happy New Year. I should probably…," she nods at the device in her hand.

„Oh yeah. Absolutely. Go ahead," Nick agrees. „I didn't know you were back in touch," he then adds, failing to keep the suspicion out of his voice as Olivia types.

Liv briefly glances up at her partner. „We aren't."

„Ah. So it's just…"

„Niceties," she says around a smile that is supposed to say it doesn't mean anything. Lying to her partner makes Ambrose feel like her dirty little secret when there is nothing to be secretive about. They way Nick had behaved toward her friend at the dinner party however, it had made her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to give Amaro any reason to ask about Ambrose or the extent of their relationship, however innocent it is.

12/31/2013 10:24

Olivia

Is that an invitation? If it is, consider it a done deal. All the champagne in the world can't match up to pizza.

„I'm actually planning on heading out," she announces. Even if it turns out Ambrose's invitation wasn't serious, she'll happily make her way home for a quiet night since Rollins had volunteered to be on call.

„Sounds good. You need a lift?"

„Actually, I think I'm going to take a cab, maybe grab something to eat on the way home." The crab cakes weren't all that good. Again her phone buzzes but she doesn't look, instead she straightens her body and walks past Nick, gingerly patting his shoulder. „Night, Nick."

„You're not really going home, are you?"

It makes Olivia stop in her tracks and briefly her eyes fall shut. Turns out she isn't a good liar.

„Actually, I don't know yet," she says truthfully.

„And that wasn't your brother, I suppose." There is no reproach in Amaro's tone.

"No, that wasn't my brother," she breathes out and turns around, facing her partner once more, the expression on her face half sympathetic and half daring. "Is that a problem?"

Nick, with his hands in his suit pockets, gives a little shrug. "Not a problem," he says easily.

"Good," Liv tells him around a small smile. "See you on Thursday then?" She took January 1st off, agreeing they'd only call her in if necessary. Cragen's sudden departure was responsible for many hours of overtime that Olivia was using to catch up on all their open cases. She also had to acquaint herself with all the office politics and bureaucratics she'd never been responsible for. The past couple of weeks have been stressful and tiring. There wasn't a single day she hasn't worked herself raw, knowing she had to prove herself to 1PP and the Chief to stay in command.

"Thursday," Amaro agrees before she walks past him. She makes her goodbyes to the Chief and a few of the other higher horses before getting her coat and making a quick exit, checking her phone in the lobby of the building.

12/31/2013 10:26

Ambrose

Pepperoni and basil ok?

Smiling at the device in her hands, Olivia quickly types in a reply. She thinks she might regret this decision if his proximity is going to send her spiraling with sexual desire again but it's not enough to keep her from going.

12/31/2013 10:42

Olivia

Perfect. I need your address. I think I'll be 45 minutes.

It takes Olivia closer to sixty minutes until she's in front of the wrought-iron gate of Ambrose's West Village townhouse co-op at Charles Street. It leads into a lit front garden that she imagines must be beautiful in spring and summer. The gate creaks as she opens and closes it, making her way along the pathway of the landscaped garden to the front door. A chill crawls up her bare legs as Olivia rings the doorbell. Ambrose must have seen her arriving because the black door opens three seconds later. He's smiling at her from the lobby, wearing a light blue sweater and dark jeans, inviting her in.

„Hey. Welcome. Come on in." He breathes a gentle kiss on her cheek upon stepping inside, his hand purposefully resting against her hip even when he takes a small step back. „Let me take your coat."

Ambrose helps her out of her winter attire, revealing a royal blue dress that's accentuating Olivia's curves much more than the black option she wore for the dinner party. She can see that his eyes are on her and suspects he likes what he sees by the way his lips lift in what she can only define as a smirk.

„Thank you," she smiles sheepishly, looking around in the small stylish foyer. „It's good to see you."

„You too," Ambrose gives back, his eyes quickly raking over Olivia's body once more. It doesn't feel predatory or uncomfortable, and she's far from wanting to roll her eyes. In fact it makes her knees feel a little weak and her stomach flutters.

„Shall we?" He's gesturing towards the adjacent room that's connected through black, open contemporary styled double doors. Olivia walks through, her heels clicking on the oversized high gloss finish tiles. She takes the living room in. It's airy and light, beneath 12-foot ceilings, decorated mostly in black and white with several seating areas.

„Wow," Olivia breathes, looking at her surroundings. There is art on the walls, a leather couch to her left and a dining table for six further in the room. A short set of stairs is in the back near a wall with jute accents that gives the place a warmer, less pretentious flair. „This is nice." Although the clean structures aren't necessarily how she would decorate her home, Olivia has to admit it looks stunning. But then everything about this place is clearly out of her price range.

Olivia's eyes follow the sound of snoring. In a matte black leather dog bed right next to the sofa a french bulldog with speckled white fur sleeps. It seems he's not a good watch dog because he doesn't seem bothered by the stranger in his home. In fact he doesn't even crack an eye.

„That's Homer," Ambrose explains. Upon hearing his name the dog inhales more heavily and opens his tubby, dark eyes.

„He seems pretty chill," Olivia cocks her head and inspects the animal for a bit longer.

„He's old. His days pretty much consist of sleep, food, three short walks, a lot more sleep and lots of TLC. You'll see."

The dog grumbles and snorts briefly. It sounds like Homer is not amused as he holds Olivia's eye, then gets up a little shakily and trots over, his stubby fore and rear legs oddly out of sync. He stops right in front of Olivia, briefly sniffs at her bare legs and looks up at her expectantly.

„This is where the TLC part comes in, huh?" She looks down at the dog with the bat-like ears and hunkers down, petting the animal. Instantly Homer starts panting, trying to push his snout in between Oliva's closed legs. "Nah, don't do that," she tells him, causing him to look up at her. He's missing all of his front teeth except two. One of them crookedly juts out of his jaw. He has bad breath and the amount of white behind his dark brown eyes makes him look kind of funny. He's not a very handsome dog but there's something strangely endearing about him.

Olivia sinks her fingers into the surprisingly soft fur at the base of his neck and ruffles it. "Hey Homer," she says, and he takes a step closer and sits, visibly enjoying the attention. "Hey cutie," she coos. "You like that?" Smiling, Olivia keeps rubbing the bulldog from head to back. It causes an inexplicably serene feeling. Homer basks in every single motion of her hand. In a different life, with a different job, Olivia figures she'd have a dog. As a child, she'd always wanted one, desperately so.

"He's a pretty good dog… for a dog," Ambrose jokes lightly as Olivia stands back up.

"I can see that."

"The pizza place called ten minutes ago. It's gonna be a while, they have more orders than expected."

"Not so surprising on New Year's Eve, is it?"

"Probably not. Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Oh, please," Olivia breathes out. Wine is definitely one of the things she came for.

"Was it that bad?" Ambrose asks empathetically, leading the way towards the back of the room and the steps leading up to his kitchen.

„Well, let's say there's a reason I generally skip this kind of thing. Guess now I can't anymore, being CO and all."

"How's that going for you?"

"It's a challenge, but I'm getting there. I wasn't prepared for the amount of… I don't even know… mothering I'd have to do? It's a game changer for sure, going from detective to commander."

Olivia looks around, taking in the distinctive yet understated design of the matte dark gray cabinets against white walls. To her left there is a breakfast nook for two tucked into the room, that makes the space modern yet cozy. When Ambrose reaches for one of the bottles of wine, displayed on an integrated wine rack, Olivia touches the white marble worktop and slides her hand across the cold, smooth surface. Fresh herbs are planted in a built-in planter, spreading a sweet scent. The entire place with its contemporary twist is stunning.

"Chardonnay, okay?" Ambrose inquires, showing her the label of Beaux Frére.

„More than okay," she nods her agreement and watches Ambrose grab two wine glasses from one of the cabinets. „So, how was Christmas for you?"

He looks at Liv while he uncorks the wine. „Pretty good, actually. Stressful with the flights, though. I hate flying during the holiday season. Everybody's so stressed and ill-tempered," grimaces Ambrose.

"I can imagine, people are a nightmare when they're not traveling," Olivia quips. "And your daughter stayed in the UK?"

"Yes. She's staying with friends and is going to be back Sunday night. They're probably pre-gaming as we speak," he says, showing how unimpressed he is by shaking his head. "They're throwing a house party, and I should probably be glad that it's not at mine. Place'll probably be trashed."

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea," Ambrose sighs. "I mean, her girls are great. Lovely, really. But the partying ain't pretty." He pours the wine and picks up both glasses, putting one in Olivia's hand.

"Thank you." Olivia noses the wine and closes her eyes. She takes a sip and smiles as the perfectly balanced aromatics come through and spread on her tongue. The man knows good wine.

"Good?" Ambrose takes a sip himself, smiling around a small mouthful.

"Mhh. Heavenly."

"There's something I wanted to show you," Ambrose says and pivots, clearly expecting her to follow as he walks back to his living room. He takes a photo album with green binding, then leads Olivia to the couch where they both sit.

"Oh, are those the pictures from college you talked about?" Instantly Olivia's interest is piqued, and she scoots closer on the sofa as Ambrose nods his head yes.

"Yes. I thought maybe you'd like to see them."

"You bet I wanna see 'em," she agrees curiously when he opens a page and puts the album on her lap so she'll be able to look at them closely.

"Oh my god," she chuckles, moving her head closer at the very first picture she sees of herself. She is holding a beer bottle, talking to some other girl. "My hair was so bad. What was it about perms that was so appealing at the time?"

"There was worse, trust me," Ambrose assures.

Liv moves on, looking at a picture of just Ambrose. "You look like a bit of a gawky version of young Will Smith here," she grins at him. "It was kinda cute, tho."

"Gawky? Really?" He asks, mock-offended.

"Well, you were just very tall and very lean. It's not a bad thing."

"Really?" he insists, but there's an amused glint in his eyes that Olivia finds intriguing.

"May I stress that I also said it was cute," she says matter of factly, the corners of her mouth lifting into a grin.

"Kinda."

"Huh?"

"You said kinda cute. It defeats the whole thing."

"It does?" Olivia asks, ponders it, then shrugs her shoulders lightly. "Oh well, have it your way then."

He laughs out loud, and Olivia, biting her bottom lip, turns the page.

"Oh, I remember this," she says in awe and snaps the fingers of her right hand in quick succession a few times. "We always got milkshakes at that place, what was it called again? P-P...Pete's!" They served the best milkshake in the area. Olivia and Ambrose, among other students, frequented the small diner regularly.

"Pete's! That's right."

"Never had a strawberry milkshake like that again in my life," Olivia muses, realizing how long it's been. "God, I'm old." The years have passed by so fast it seems. For all of her life she's been working, day in and day out. In fact it has been her whole life for all these years. She can no longer remember what it felt like to be young and a little bit reckless. She has no idea how once, so many years ago, she was still open and hopeful in regards to finding someone to share her life with.

It almost feels like she's never going to find it. The men in her life had come and gone. She'd tried, but it had never lasted, never felt quite right. And sometimes, well, most of the time, Olivia thinks that maybe love isn't meant for her. That she's bound to stay alone with the occasional brief relationship that gives her a taste of what things could be like if only they were right.

"You're not old," Ambrose chastises.

She looks at him and only sees sincerity in his eyes. As if it's completely foreign to him to hear a woman of forty-four say she's old.

"I feel like it," Olivia says honestly, her throat tightening. Sometimes, at night, she wonders if life has passed her by. If she dedicated her best years to the job. She reaches for her glass and takes a sip of wine, hoping it will blur the lines between reality and regrets. She looks at Ambrose then, scrutinizing him, realizing he's so much more handsome than she could have imagined twenty-three years ago. "Don't you? You've got a daughter who's all grown up," she says, fumbling for something. She can see him swallow and briefly glance away from her.

"I don't feel old…," his words trail off and for a few moments he's silent. It seems it's hard for him to retain eye contact with her. "but I do feel tired."

Slowly, Olivia nods. She knows the feeling. Probably it has to do with divorcing and moving from Europe to the States while raising a kid. It would take a toll on anyone. Their lives couldn't be more different, and yet they both seem to be exhausted from living. A part of her is curious about Claire, but Olivia decides it'd be in poor taste to ask about Ambrose's ex-wife and the circumstances leading to their divorce, so she keeps her mouth shut. If he wants to talk to her about it, she trusts he will.

"Yeah. I… I get that," Olivia admits in response.

The clock strikes midnight. Neither of them notices until at 12:01 am Ambrose's phone vibrates. He smiles as he reads the message, then looks at Olivia.

"It's Amelia," he clarifies. "Happy New Year, Liv."

Realizing it must be midnight, Olivia smiles softly. "Happy New Year," she says back.

Ambrose picks up his wine, and holds it up to toast to her so Olivia does the same. They clink glasses and sip the wine, gazing at each other over their glasses as they do so. The desire she experienced the last time they were together rumbles to life, and the Chardonnay doesn't numb it in the least.

She puts her glass down and focuses on the photographs, trying to deflate Ambrose's attention on her, but she can feel his gaze. It's setting her insides on fire. He replies, Olivia assumes, to his daughter and for a little while it's quiet between the two of them as they continue on looking at their college pictures but soon they laugh again, getting tangled up in memories and conversation.

The pizza arrives well after midnight.

As Ambrose gets them plates and napkins Olivia takes a look around. The art on the walls is impressive and so is the entire interior design. Further in the back is the dining area. Two framed pictures on top of a server in the same style of the kitchen furniture attract Olivia's attention. She walks over to take a closer look. The picture in the bigger frame shows the portrait of a young woman, African American, although her skin tone is lighter than Ambrose's. Striking hazel eyes with golden undertones and prominent freckles across her nose and cheeks draw Olivia in.

When she looks at the smaller picture in a golden frame that is showing three people Ambrose and a red-head among them, Olivia has no doubt that the young woman is Ambrose's daughter. She picks the picture up, her gaze fixating on the obviously happy couple. She remembers Claire from pictures Ambrose had shown her in college but in this one she is outstandingly beautiful. Olivia marvels at how much in love she and Ambrose look. It is obviously not a professional photograph but a candid snapshot in a park. Amelia, probably around four or five years old, is hoisted on her father's shoulders while he and her mother beam at each other.

Momentarily Olivia wonders what might have happened to cause them to fall out of love. She knows all too well how relationships can suddenly fracture beyond repair. Frowning she puts the picture back down. Their time together probably still means a lot to Ambrose or else he wouldn't have chosen to keep a family picture on display. Olivia's heart starts beating a little faster. She gets it. She gets still loving someone even though they left you and hurt you terribly.

She herself still keeps a photograph of Elliot around in her bedroom. The realization is like a catalyst. It tears old wounds open. The mere thought of her ex-partner and the circumstances of his departure feel like salt in a fresh wound.

And then, shifting her focus back onto the happy couple that once was, Olivia feels a pang of jealousy-just for a second. Shaking her head she decides it's ridiculous. For one Claire and Ambrose are no longer married, plus she has no right. She has no intention of changing anything about that, no matter the attraction she feels towards him. Still, at least with Claire, Ambrose had had that closeness Olivia still longs for.

Upon hearing Ambrose's footsteps on the stairs Olivia quickly pivots, almost feeling like he caught her doing something she shouldn't have. His gaze shifts and falls upon the family picture she held in her hands just a few seconds ago, most likely realizing she'd looked at it.

"You want to enjoy this in front of the TV?"

"Uh… sure," she agrees. Ambrose balances two plates with a slice each, as well as the bottle of Chardonnay. "Let me take this," she offers and walks around the dinner table, relieving him of the pizza. They get comfortable on the sofa. Ambrose starts the TV and they take a look at the options, zapping through the channels.

They eventually settle on a movie. The pizza is authentically Italian with a thin crust and sunny tomato sauce. It's delicious. After finishing a second slice Olivia puts her plate down, perfectly content.

"This was a great pizza. Where'd you get it from?"

"It's from this small, cozy Italian place nearby. They only have six or seven tables, I guess they depend on delivery. But everything I've tried is fantastic." When he gets up to take the plates, Olivia takes her own and follows him to the kitchen where he loads the dishwasher.

They both stand in near silence. The sound of the TV is hardly audible from here. Ambrose bows his head for a beat, then shakes it, smiles. His gaze is on her lips, and she chuckles and wipes her thumb across the left corner of her mouth.

"What, do I still have some tomato sauce in my face?"

"No," he assures softly, shaking his head once more.

"Then what?"

"I was just thinking that you look-" He gestures at her, his eyes traveling from her face to her hips and back up. "Dazzling."

Olivia's heartbeat is suddenly pounding in her ears and the flush she feels beneath her skin must be visible, she thinks. The word 'dazzling' dropped from his lips coated in a thick British accent. It's not the first time her stomach has started rumbling with desire upon hearing it.

"You're only saying that because you're drunk," Olivia quips, trying to make sense of it. He's never complimented her so overtly before. Certainly not with an adjective like 'dazzling'.

"Mildly intoxicated," Ambrose corrects sheepishly. "If I was drunk I'd have the courage to say something else."

She wishes she would have brought her glass. Here, in his kitchen, she has nothing. The only thing Olivia can do is look at him. She feels confused, and yet her skin is tingling with whatever it is he's implying.

"Like what?" Her voice doesn't sound normal to her as she croaks the words out despite the lump he's put in her throat. She thinks maybe she shouldn't have asked. Maybe she shouldn't even want to know. There's only one way for this to go, and she thinks it's wrong.

"Like," Ambrose starts, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows audibly. He leans in a little closer, but his proximity feels sizzling, the air around them thick. "How there hasn't been a moment since you came here that I haven't wondered what it would be like to kiss you," he murmurs. His dark eyes are intense and Olivia sees his gaze purposefully land on her lips again, only emphasizing what he just admitted. She stands perfectly still while trying to remember how to breathe, move, or speak because it seems she lost the ability to do any of those. Olivia stares at Ambrose staring at her mouth. Unconsciously she licks her lips as her gaze falls to his. Their gaze flits from eyes to lips for what feels like an impossibly long time, and she wonders if he has any idea how much he's thrown her.

Ambrose gives her a weak smile, and she comes undone. There is a shift in the room. Her heart is thudding uncontrollably in her chest as her own gaze settles on his lips. The wine buzzes through her veins, encouraging her to go for it. Just lean in and…

It feels like Olivia is swaying when she touches her lips to Ambrose's in a chaste kiss, molding her mouth to his, taking a moment to just feel. For a few beats they stand, breathing shallowly through their noses until a flip seems to switch between them. Ambrose's hand sinks into Olivia's hair, pulls her closer as his mouth works over hers, drawing her bottom lip between his.

Suddenly Olivia responds, eager and willing. She moans as the tip of his tongue traces the crevice of her lips, encouraging her to part them for him. Ambrose moves them so her ass bumps against the protruding worktop of the kitchen unit, the muscular ridges of his body keeping her trapped against it like the heat is trapped beneath her skin.

Delicately Ambrose's thumb brushes against her scalp as he draws her closer for a moment and then releases her lips, touching his nose to hers. His breath is labored as she winces quietly in protest, the noise getting lost between them.

Olivia's stomach drops as she inhales shakily, her eyes still closed. "So, how was that?" She sounds husky, voice barely above a whisper, and she can practically feel Ambrose's restraint slip away when he tugs her closer to him and groans.

"You have no idea…," he whispers throatily and leaves it at that. Then he kisses her again, more urgently this time. His mouth presses against hers before he pries her lips apart with his tongue. Her entire body responds with a thirst for him that can't be quenched with his kisses, however addictive his soft lips are. He tastes of Chardonnay and sweet possibilities, a heady combination that makes Olivia's nipples stiffen.

Ambrose's fingers rake through her hair until his hand snakes down to her shoulder. There is no space between them when he pulls her against his chest intimately and thank God, she thinks, because her legs feel like they aren't going to support her for long when his tongue fills her mouth. Her hands move to his arms as she opens up to him and hungrily reciprocates his kiss. It's been so long, and everything about him feels so good, so safe in the moment. More than that it feels exciting. His tongue plunges into her mouth, and her heart hammers as they find a satisfying rhythm. He nudges his hips against her, and she can feel everything about him, his mouth, chest, legs. His crotch.

A shiver shoots down her spine, igniting that fire in the pit of her stomach that easily crawls further down to make a home between her legs.

Olivia hums. Her body does, too.

The only thing she is aware of is Ambrose. His taste, his smell, the heat his body gives off. It's more intoxicating than the wine. When his hand slides down to her hip and around the curve of it to cup the slope of her ass, she moans. It feels like his desire sits beneath his fingertips, bleeds into her flesh. It's a contagious thing.

She's heavily breathing against him, into his mouth, both of her hands holding onto his shoulders as if it could give her the semblance of control. Everything starts spinning and this time she hopes nothing is going to break her fall, not as long as she will fall into him.

Their tongues dance for a moment longer until Ambrose pulls away. His lips sink down onto her neck, audibly nipping at her as he bends her backwards over the counter as far as their position allows. His mouth is hot and wet against the delicate patch of skin below her ear and she moans, encouraging him further.

God, she doesn't want him to stop.

Both his hands are on her hips, sliding down the sides of her thighs and back up before he lifts her onto the counter without warning. A quick shriek escapes her. Ambrose silences her with his mouth, swallowing the sound as he steps into the space between her legs. Once the moment of shock has worn off Olivia giggles heartily through kisses, arms wrapping around Ambrose's neck.

"God, you're perfect," he breathes, pulling her hips against him so her core is flush against his crotch and Jesus fucking Christ, he's hard.

All of a sudden Ambrose's hands are all over her. It's exactly what she needs, even though she didn't know just how much she needed it.

End Notes: Well, we entered a different kind of territory quick here. What do you guys think is going to happen? Will they? Won't they? Let me know!

Also: Please, please stay safe!