I haven't written much outside of the TVD fandom these past years, but I've been on an SVU binge in preparation for Stabler's return (tomorrow!), and started obsessing more and more over Rollisi.
This reads a little like Drabble, but it kept going and going lol. Canon Divergent, and my own interpretation of their emotions and how New Year's Eve may have ended differently.
Disclaimer: I don't own SVU, or Rollisi. If I did, they'd be together by now!
The bond between them had been like an act of breathing. Mostly an easy, thoughtless habit that was so stable in its consistency, she wasn't even aware that it was happening. Until it was strained. Those moments were sharp and rare, and sent pangs through her chest that she didn't want to analyze.
She hated fighting with him. Hated the probing accusation of his stare when heated words ventured too close to the truth of their emotions. Those instants of ragged breaths hit too close to the insecurities she tried to keep hidden, and she'd damn him and his bleeding heart.
"So he's smart, kind, funny. You enjoy his company. He's good with your kids," her therapist had led one session, "What am I missing?"
"It's not like that," she'd defended, "We're friends. We're partners."
Except that wasn't true. They weren't partners anymore, were they? He had left, because it was his shot, and it wasn't her place to stop him. Lies slipped through her ceramic smile about how happy she was, and how great this was going to be, and he had beamed back so excitedly. She swallowed the truth and broke her own heart.
"We were partners."
The admission stung as she brushed the topic off as if it were nothing. It was fine. She was over it. The squad was finding their way without him and she had finally managed to go an entire ten minutes without allowing her gaze to flicker over to his empty desk. It was getting easier to lock away the memories, to go through the motions. Everything was okay. Until it wasn't.
"I would be fine if you were right here beside me!"
Another bristling fight between them, but this time exhaustion had revealed what she usually kept guarded and he flinched like she had slapped him. Her words had tugged his features into a mask of confusion, and she knew she shouldn't blame him. After all, she'd told him how happy she was for him.
"He should have known," she had reasoned.
"Because he knows you?"
Yes. Yes, because he knew her. He had learned her inside and out, before she'd thought to stop him. Relationships with men had never been her strong suit. Blame it on childhood trauma, or a wild streak, or lack of self-control and self worth...whatever. She used them, they used her, and she pretended she didn't care. Fun had and needs met was as complicated as it ever was, because the moment something turned serious, those walls she'd spent her whole life building shot up and she ran, fast and hard. Except with him. Because he was just her partner. Just her friend. There was no threat in letting him a little closer...they had each other's backs; it was to be expected.
He'd seen her sweaty and worn after 24 hour shifts, chasing lead after lead, running down perps, and desperately needing a shower. He had been to her apartment where the dishes were piling, laundry needed folding, and helped change her daughter's dirty diapers. They'd had burping contests and inside jokes and stale beer and pizza breath. She'd seen him fret and stress, he'd comforted her while crying...there was no need for judgment...no need for walls. The intimacy that had sprouted between them came so naturally that she had learned to trust him before she'd had the chance to panic and bolt. A breath in, a breath out.
For a time, she had come to rely on that bond. The constant fixture of him in her life...in the lives of her daughters. He was trash TV shows late at night and spaghetti with meatballs for dinner. He was Italian lullabies hummed to teething toddlers and marker drawings of four blonde stick figures taped to the fridge. It was the tie she found in the couch cushion from that time he crashed over, and two wine glasses in her sink after a particularly grilling case.
All of these little things, the blending of their crossing paths, hadn't struck her as a warning sign until they were gone.
Arraignments, trial dates, and endless investigations had left little time for catching up. They passed by each other at the precinct on occasion, when he was needed for the case, but the polite smiles and promises of grabbing lunch sometimes were placations for the diverging roads they were on. The truth was that he was no longer there on the ground with her, thoughts linked and backs covered. The truth was that he was no longer a cop, and evenings of them hanging out together had been replaced with the demands of his new career. The truth...was that she missed him.
The fissures in their bond, the distance in their relationship, was an ache she tried to ignore for the longest time.
Then, she'd been taken hostage and held at gunpoint overnight. Even though she had felt sympathy for the plight of her captor, the hours drug on like years and fear pulsed through her adrenaline filled veins as she considered the fact that she might not make it out of this one. She may never see her daughters again. She may never see him again.
"I thought you were nice," she'd admitted to her abductor, as the musty scent of that small motel room overwhelmed her, "Which meant not the guy for me."
Her mind had drifted out of focus, until she no longer saw the space around her...but her own kitchen. A baby in a highchair and a toddler perched on the counter. Standing with them, prepping homemade marinara, was a goofy smile, rolled up sleeves under a waistcoat, and sparkling baby blue eyes that crinkled in the corners.
"I can't handle nice."
That was why she had never allowed herself to think of him as anything more than what they were at surface value. Friends. Partners. It had been enough to have him in her life. But the prospect of death tends to put things into perspective and her mind reeled in revelations. That she was just like her mother. That her girls might see it, and follow the same patterns of self destruction. The cycle of inner hatred and anger and being treated like trash was just as easy a trap to fall into as any addiction.
So when her nightmare ended and she was safe in the squadroom, she swore this would be a wake up call. The relief in his quivering voice as he was suddenly at her side nearly spiked her eyes with tears. Words left her lips about forgoing a hospital visit and wanting to see her daughters.
She caught a passing approval from her Captain to leave and then it was his hand on her arm. She didn't pull away. The gentle insistence that he would drive her home got her feet moving, and when they were alone in the elevator...like so many times before...her walls crumbled away and she broke.
In that moment, none of their bullshit mattered. The busy schedules, the excuses, the faked smiles and missed opportunities all fell away as he pulled her into his arms.
"I got you...I got you."
The intimacy of their years together came back in a rush as he breathed words of comfort into her hair. She sobbed into his chest, trusting him to hold her upright until the anxiety had calmed and her weight sagged against him. His hands were warm and grounding where they touched her, breaking through the ice that had seized in her veins and balming her frayed nerves. He walked her to his car with a hand on her waist; drove her home with their fingers clasped together, and didn't let go until she was safe inside her apartment and her girls were in her arms.
Things shifted after that night, though she couldn't exactly describe how. There wasn't really a change, per say. He was still busy, they were still gun shy around one another, but it was...better. There were more texts. They did grab a quick bite for lunch together on occasion. She was always the one told to call him when the squad needed him, and she defended his decisions more readily to her co-workers.
His hands had began to linger more, lately, too. On her elbow, her back, her shoulder. She made it a point to hold his gaze for longer than she'd ever allowed herself in the past, and she'd check up on him after trials when she could. This new normal settled them into this developing chapter of their lives, and instead of analyzing what it all meant, she took a step back and decided to let it happen naturally. They were friends, after all. Partners. And that went far beyond the workplace.
It's late, and he is still at his office. Yet another postponement of the trial for his biggest case so far had set him on edge in a way she was beginning to recognize as a new constant for him. The demands of his job were endless, and the weight of the responsibilities on his shoulders was beginning to show. His permanently furrowed brow. The extra lines and circles around his eyes and the silver strands in his hair. Gaunt cheeks from unintentional weight loss. She worried about him, and maybe there was a reason for that. Maybe it was time that she be the one to put in some effort and be his rock for a change.
His expression is a pensive gloom when she walks in and calls his attention. He's a million miles away in his head, but she brings him a bit closer with a light joke and a soft smile that he returns. His dimples flash and his eyes brighten just a little. So she throws out her offer. A drink, or three...hell, the whole top shelf, if that's what he wanted, but her hopes are dashed with the drop of his gaze. She knows what he's going to say before his mouth opens. Loose ends. Paperwork. Excuses to cover the vulnerability that he's too beat down to share tonight. She lets him have this one, because she'd been there and she knows the look. He's licking wounds right now, and sometimes that's something you have to do alone.
"Rain check?" she offered without malice or expectation, and the rest of what is left unsaid passes between their locked gazes. His face softens and the glow of his lamp paints him in a charming light as he agrees.
"Hang in there...Dominick." She rarely uses his first name, but it falls from her lips like an endearment, and the emotions that follow are hers to hold this time.
They never got the chance to grab those drinks before a pandemic overtook the world, altering life in a surreal and permanent way. Mass death. Closed schools. Mask mandates. Quarantine. Their jobs were "essential" of course, but the loss, pain, and fear that gripped their once lively city brought on a new sort of depravity. Abuse of children stuck at home. Domestic violence cases spiking. Murders that were nearly impossible to pin down because the entire world had moved underground in isolation.
He video called her throughout the lock down, checking in on her and the girls. They visited as much as they could in person at work, attempting to keep that crucial six feet between them. She hated it, but they were all risking exposure every day and she had her children to think about.
Slowly, months ticked by and more change followed. Riots and protests and a nation on edge made her actions every day on the job more pivotal. Consideration, reflection, and exhaustion from the hurt she saw in the lives of so many plagued her more than the virus running rampant. Too many nights, she laid awake, wishing he was there with her; watching crappy TV, talking about their days. Making things better, like only he could.
But seasons come and go, and lockdowns lifted meant reconnection. The effects of the current situation in the world was still a prominent part of their lives, but it was balancing out; becoming routine.
He came by to see the girls, for the first time in months, on Halloween and her oldest clung to him like he might disappear if she were to let go. He'd held her right back, until the child fell asleep on his chest to the sounds of Hocus Pocus in the background. Once the movie ended, they'd carried both of the sleeping babies to bed and spent the next three hours talking and eating way too much of the leftover candy he'd brought. They fell asleep themselves on the couch, heads on opposite ends, but feet intertwined, and life felt normal for the first time in so long.
Thanksgiving was spent with him and the squad at their Captain's home. The small group ate and drank as the children played and it was nice to know that while they were all still distancing from outsiders, family could come in all shapes and forms. She was glad to have this one.
He brought Christmas presents over mid-December and they wrapped them together while the girls were with the sitter. He made cider from a special family recipe and though he said it wasn't spiked, it warmed her body better than liquor and she couldn't help but let her eyes linger on his face...on his mouth. Maybe she was just pent up and craving the contact of another human, but she only seemed to have these thoughts when he was around. After the year they'd all had, though, it was easy to find perspective.
New Year's Eve was particularly special this year. Every person in the country was waiting to toss this rollercoaster hellscape of a decade starter out the window and welcome in the do-over that accompanied the calendar flip.
She met him for coffee and they bantered jokingly over a file exchange. When he made it clear he had no plans for the evening, an offer jumped from her tongue. Pizza, loud kids, and an early bedtime. She kept her tone light, and batted off his attempt at an excuse this time. She'd let it slide before the pandemic, because she owed him that much...but things had changed now and she wasn't taking these precious times for granted anymore.
His gaze flickered noncommittally as he talked circles around an agreement, and for half a second, she wondered if there was something more to his initial reluctance. But what the hell...he loved the girls and it was a holiday. She wasn't leaving him alone to work the night away by himself in an empty apartment. If there was something he wanted to say, he was a big boy with a capable mouth and a fair comprehension of the English language. She was throwing all caution and egg shells and whatever the two-step dance they'd been doing around each other out with this god forsaken nightmare of a year.
It was just before eight o'clock when he arrived, pizza in hand, and her heart warmed at the smile on his lips. Whatever caseload he'd been carrying this morning was gone, and when her daughter practically tackled him in greeting, he laughed in a way she hadn't heard in far too long. He raced the child to the sofa, reverting to the innocent silliness she'd grown accustomed to at the beginning of their friendship, and a familiar warmth blossomed through the room. Taking a seat herself, it was all she could do to just grin and watch in contentment as two of the most important people in her life giggled together.
He checked on her youngest, asleep in the other room, as she brought out plates for the pizza and some drinks. Juice for her oldest, and two beers for them. When he returned, the three of them settled into their meal, and joked about the commercials on the television that were leading up to the count down. It was a peaceful time...like it used to be. Like spaghetti nights and Italian lullabies.
Her daughter fell asleep early and they moved her and a blanket to the loveseat, before sitting down together on the sofa. The night was looming thick now, midnight growing closer, but they weren't particularly keeping an eye on the clock. He spoke about the case he was working through now, and she deliberated over the possibility of putting the girls back in daycare, with the start of the year. They discussed the election, the ridiculous price of tomatoes at the bodega down the road from her apartment, and everything else under the sky, until her words were slurring and he was pulling a blanket up over her shoulders. The warmth, both around and inside her was the most comforting thing she'd ever felt, and when her eyes began to close, she was aware of the soft pressure of his fingertips pulling her closer. She let her body lean into him, using his chest as a pillow and his arm draped over her shoulder. The physical contact was a sweet easing to her dreams, the curves of their sides pressed together. Easy as breathing.
She wanted to stomp and groan when her phone went off, and she felt him shift beneath her. The bubble they'd been wrapped in popped at the heavy tone in his voice as he read the message. Amber Alert. Teenage girl abducted. Apparently, this damn year wasn't ending without one last parting gift of misery.
He stayed with the girls while she worked, and luckily the missing teen was found alive. Not without injury or suspicious circumstances, however, which meant the New Year's was starting with a new case. One that she was going to pick up at eight in the morning, after a nap, a shower, and breakfast with her daughters.
It was just after three a.m. when she stepped back into her apartment and the lights from the Christmas tree was the only illumination in the room. A heartwarming sight welcomed her, as she looked to the couch and found her oldest, sleeping in her place against the chest of her Godfather. It was likely that the four year old had woken up to find her mother gone and he'd coaxed her back to sleep in that natural way of his. She enjoyed the view for a few moments before tiptoeing over to wake him.
A few grumbled words and he came to, enough to understand that she was home and that whatever crisis awaited them at work had been temporarily sated. She left him to turn off the television as she took her baby girl to bed, and when she returned, he was stretching out the stiffness her couch had left him with.
His long arms and torso nearly allowed his hands to touch the ceiling and her eyes wandered unabashed over his lithe form. His university hoodie, and the T-shirt underneath, lifted enough to flash a hint of his stomach, and her eyes clung to the sight of the hair dusting his lower abdomen.
His head turned and she felt when his eyes landed on her face, catching her in the act of ogling him like a schoolgirl with a crush. Usually, she'd have played off the notion of interest, or deflected the question in his gaze with a quick topic change...but not tonight. Not when she'd made promises to herself about who she wanted to be this year and not when they deserved so much better than pretending.
Slowly, she crossed the room, moving closer to him as the air between them grew thick. She didn't divert her gaze, or act like she wasn't enjoying what she saw. He'd always been attractive, after all, and it was about damn time she let herself admit it.
She came to a stop right in front of him, and angled her face toward his. He was so much taller than she was that he towered over her in the near darkness. Despite this fact, she'd never felt small with him. Maybe because he'd never treated her as anything less than equal.
The lights from the tree reflected in technicolor across his face, and she could read his expression as easily as if she were looking in a mirror.
Questions. Anticipation. Uncertainty. Hope.
She'd bet those same emotions were displayed on her face as well, and her heart hammered beneath her ribs like it was trying to escape. Her mouth felt dry, but one of his hands lifted to her waist and she turned to liquid beneath his touch. She let her own hand fall to his chest, and despite all the unsureness and possible outcomes, she wasn't going to run from this.
Timidly, the hand that wasn't on her hip lifted to her face, his long fingers brushing back her hair as his palm cupped her cheek. She held his gaze, portraying a steady consent as he leaned closer.
After years of build up, offers and rejections, fights and makeups, and painful line-walking, she was expecting an explosion when they finally gave in. They both had the capability of acting on their passions, as they'd often displayed in their jobs, but tonight, he was all careful control. His hands were on her neck and the small of her back, drawing her in as his head slowly dipped down. He gave her all the time in the world to pull away, to say no, to stop, calculating her every breath.
She answered by leaning up on her toes and closing the space between them. Their lips brushed so gently in the beginning. That awkward, yet sweet taste of a first kiss, when you are in unfamiliar territory and your body isn't sure what to do. But it didn't take long for them to figure it out. As her arms slid around his neck and his wrapped completely around her, the kiss deepened and his tongue pushed into her mouth.
There were no fireworks or peaks of heat or that insane I-need-you-now drive that often accompanied these types of encounters for her. Instead, what she felt come over her was a certainty she'd never known before. His scent, his taste, his touch...it felt so good; so familiar. It was like coming home. It was that shoes kicked off, gun put away, bra thrown across the room kind of comfort, and she welcomed it with a surrendering sigh, kissing him back with just as much emotion as he was offering her.
Their hands trailed over each other as their mouths continued to explore. Her palms slid from his neck to his shoulders, to those surprisingly firm pecs. His ghosted down her sides, settling on the curve of her hips and around, until he was gripping her ass...the back of her thighs…
He lifted her easier than she would have expected, and she wrapped her legs around him on instinct. He carried them the short distance to the couch, letting her straddle his lap as he sat down. The new position was a delicious tease that allowed them to pull apart and stare at one another.
"I...I've wanted to do that for a while," he smiles, and she'd bet there's a blush on his cheeks.
She could make a joke or lighten the situation, but for the first time, she doesn't want to. She isn't afraid of the vulnerability in his eyes, surely reflected in her own, because this is them. Every intimate detail of their beings had always been on wide display to each other, and there was nothing she could reveal in her gaze that he hadn't already acknowledged and accepted years ago.
So she smiles back and runs the tips of her fingers over his bottom lip.
"Me too, Dominick...a long while."
The grin that follows is blinding, crinkling his eyes in that happy way that she adores, and her heart melts at the happiness they share. The tension is gone from his shoulders and that spark is back in his eyes; reflecting in her own.
She takes his face in her hands, "Happy New Year."
"Yeah," he smirks, flashing dimples at her, "It is."
Those are the last words spoken for a while, as his hand delves into her hair and their mouths reconnect, making up for lost time, and promising new beginnings for this next chapter of their lives. Together.
Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought :)