AN: Here you go puffpuffpuff718, I bashed this out for you and anyone else who wanted to see this come to completion!

Please note very minimal effort was put into this fic and it really shows lol. Forgive me.

(P.S. The previous two chapters for this story are now before this one.)


THE TEXT - PART 3


She had deleted the photo from his camera roll.

He wasn't surprised but it was a few hours later that a thought overcame him.

The deleted items folder.

He hadn't checked that so he grasped his phone from the bedside table and clicked through a series of prompts in a flurry only to find she had also deleted it from that folder too.

Of course she did..

He sighs, dropping his phone in his lap, his mind still stuck on that irretrievable image as he scrubs a hand down his face.

He wonders if he should contact Morales.

A smile overcomes him at the thought of just how that conversation would go down.

"Hey buddy, do you mind recovering a photo of my semi naked partner? Off the record of course…"

It's for science.

It's probably for the best he thinks.

He cannot possibly have that photo in his possession.

It wouldn't be healthy..

He glances down at the message screen and considers reaching out to her tonight.

He'd received nothing but stony silence since she left the precinct and he couldn't seem to comprehend why she was so pissed at him.

She was the one who slipped up and now he was in the bad books.

He glances down at his bare chest.

He is shirtless, dressed in nothing but a pair of charcoal boxers and when he drags the sheet down further a thought crosses his mind.

He clutches his phone in his palm and angles it so he gets the majority of his chest, crotch and thighs in view. He raises his legs slightly to emulate the position of her body as closely as he can remember, right down to keeping the top of his mouth in frame.

He clicks the photo from above, the sound echoing through the bedroom and he lowers the phone to take in his handy work.

There is enough light from his side table that it highlights all the dips and valleys of his chest and his boxers have taken on an almost silver glint. He smiles at the shot, pleased that he'd decided to go an extra round on the bench today because it shows.

He tries to think of a witty line.

'Goodnight.'

'Goodnight' with a winky face..

'Sweet Dreams..'

Or maybe, just maybe:

'Come over'

He would be a shit to send that to her.

It would really send her off.

She may take offence.

She may even see it as harassment.

He'd be an idiot to disregard the rage she carried today but despite all the risks he begins to type the daring text below.

Come over.

Because that's what he really wants to say.

And if he's honest, that's what he truly wants out of sending this photo in the first place.

For her to come… over.

Into his bed.

He shakes his head.

He cannot possibly send this..

Could he?

But he'd caught the intense look in her eyes today beneath the rage, the way she'd loomed downward at his desk attempting to appear appalled but he smelled bullshit. She was spiralling for a multitude of reasons and her body language spoke volumes.

She had stood way too close to him in the locker room when he was shirtless, not to mention the way she had leaned in unnecessarily close at his desk and if she had truly been mortified she would have spent the majority of the day avoiding him, not baiting him.

Come over.

Yes, he should send this..

Maybe this is what they need - a blatent push, so they can finally step down from their relentless tug of war on restraint.

This could be his white flag.

Besides, if it happens to backfire he could always play it off that it was meant for someone else.

"Sorry Liv, that was meant for this new woman I'm seeing.. Olive."

He chuckles at the thought.

Olive.

Olive branch..

He likes that.

He rewrites the text beneath the photo to instead read:

Olive branch.

This would be his olive branch.

He stares at the message for a few more moments before he hits send, his heart hammering at the realisation that he'd actually done it.

His gut churns as he waits and all he can hear is his own laboured breaths and the piercing sound of silence that surrounds him.

A few beats pass before he sees it, those three little dots dancing beneath his eyes and his stomach practically does backflips.

He holds his breath as he waits - a mixture of fear, dread and excitement all culminating in his belly before the words materialise in front of him.

~~Olivia Benson~~

Come over.

His mouth parts in disbelief before his lips slowly lift into a smile and just like that he is slipping out of bed.

Be right there Liv, he thinks.

Be right there.


THE END.


AN: Lol nothing but light, clichéd relief here.