By the time Rafael collapsed on his living room couch, not even stopping to take off his jacket, he was well and truly exhausted.
But was the best possible kind of exhaustion.
The sun had long dipped over the horizon, and he could just make out the now pitch black Central Park in the distance, which now looked like a mirage on the horizon. Had he and Olivia really just had that conversation? Had this agonising months-long limbo finally come to an end?
The tension he'd been carrying in his body all through the summer continued to dissipate with every exhale.
Olivia's touches lingered on his skin, a million little ghosts sending shockwaves through him like she was standing two feet away from him and not twenty blocks across town - finally he could luxuriate in that feeling without it being some dirty little secret between them. Finally they could navigate the enormity of the feelings between them without existing in that infuriating liminal space between friends and lovers; finally they were exorcising the demons that seemed to loom over their relationship from the day they woke up side-by-side in his bed.
He opened his liquor cabinet, now dusty after weeks of neglect - realising with a small, satisfied smile that it was because he'd consumed his fair share of alcohol at Forlini's with Olivia instead of sulking alone in his living room - and gingerly retrieved the crystal glass she'd given him that night in his hotel room.
The BX9 threats felt like they'd happened an entire lifetime ago, but as he poured himself a glass of scotch and pressed the cold glass to his lips, he could feel Olivia's hands roaming his back, as electric and bone-chilling as they'd been that night.
The rest of his scotch - a drink of celebration, not one of sorrow - glided down his throat with a satisfying burn.
It felt like the start of something new - something good.
"Barba."
His voice rang out loudly and clearly even over the grainy speaker of Olivia's desk phone, cutting her to the core. This was far from the first time she'd called his office phone, but after the events of the past couple of days, Olivia still felt a shiver run down her spine every time she heard his voice - he didn't even know that it was her calling, yet it was like he was speaking right to her.
"Hey, it's me." Those were the only words she could muster while she desperately tried to get it together enough for an actual conversation.
The flushed skin, clammy palms, clenched throat - fuck, she had it bad for Rafael Barba.
His tone changed instantly to the warm, gentle one he saved for her. "Liv." She could almost hear him smile, which made her smile too - it was one heck of a way to start the work day. "Nice to hear from you. You could have texted me, you know."
"I know, but I just wanted to hear your voice again before I head into interrogation for God knows how long," Olivia beamed. She snuck a glance over her shoulder through the glass window of the interrogation room, where Carisi and Fin were working an uncannily familiar - although she couldn't quite place it - young man who'd been hauled in for allegedly raping an unconscious woman by a dumpster after a Halloween party. She could steal a few extra minutes for herself before raining on this suspect's parade.
"When did you become such a romantic?" he asked cheekily.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Anyway, I'm calling to ask…" She nervously fiddled with her hair - why was such a simple question so difficult to ask? This wasn't even the first time they were getting dinner together - but it'd be their first real date, and the stakes suddenly felt ten times higher. "... do you maybe want to get dinner this week?"
There - she'd said it. She heaved a soft sigh of relief and waited for his response with bated breath.
His lilting, affectionate chuckle was music to her ears. "We work together, Liv. If you're free for dinner, so am I."
"So… it's a date, then?" she asked, this time slightly more confidently.
"It's a date," he echoed.
"Great," she proclaimed with an exhilarated grin, feeling the rest of her confidence return. "Honestly, that was easier than I thought it would be," she confessed.
"Food and you? I'm always down for that."
Olivia's cheeks turned a deep red. Sarcastic quips? She was more than used to those. But that? The passion in his voice smouldered even over the phone.
"I'm surprised you didn't hit me with some acerbic comeback, Barba," she deflected. "When did you become such a romantic?"
God, she was smiling like a girl who'd just been asked to prom. She could start every work day like this. Until -
"Liv."
Fin appeared at her door without warning, a guilty look instantly crossing his face when he caught sight of the receiver in her hand and her uncharacteristically massive grin. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got a bit of a situation here."
She did her best to hide her disappointment. "I have to run, but I'll talk to you later?"
"Of course. Have a great day, Liv."
"You too."
She quickly turned her attention to Fin, reminding herself that it was time to get her shit together and do her job. "What's going on? Did you get anything from him?"
Fin glanced apologetically at the phone receiver and then at her - had he just interrupted what looked like a very private (and affectionate) moment between Olivia and a certain ADA? He'd have to find out in due time. "The kid's father's shutting down the interview. He just got here and probably will scream in Carisi's face in ten seconds if a CO doesn't talk him down."
"Well, he can't do that. Ellis is 22, and he didn't ask for a lawyer," Olivia replied matter-of-factly, knowing that Carisi had probably said the exact same thing to Fin and the mystery guest just before this. "Who is this guy?"
"He's on the job, Nassau County PD - and wants to get his son out of there, now."
"Let me talk to-" Olivia started, until she caught sight of a very familiar-looking face - and bald head - making his way towards her.
Her breath caught. Shit. That can't be…
"Patrick?"
She hadn't seen him in over fifteen years, but that face was unmistakable. Patrick Griffin, her ex-partner, was standing in her squadroom.
"Olivia," he said curtly.
"You two know each other?" a puzzled Fin asked awkwardly.
"Um… my first partner," she stuttered. "I didn't know that you had a son," she remarked in disbelief, her eyes shifting nervously between the young man in the interrogation room and his very disconcerted father.
"Ellis didn't show up this morning. He wasn't answering calls, so I traced his cell and I thought maybe he was mugged or worse."
"He's fine. He's unhurt," Olivia explained tentatively, although that certainly wasn't going to give him much assurance. What else was she going to do - tell Patrick right now that Ellis had been arrested for rape? That he'd been found on top - literally - of a passed-out girl next to a pile of trash bags? That a witness had caught him in the act?
This was not the reunion with Patrick that she'd anticipated.
"Why is he in an interrogation room?" Patrick demanded as he waved an angry finger at the glass window, where they could just make out the visibly distressed figure of Ellis Griffin, his face red with anxiety.
Her mouth suddenly felt dry. "He's under investigation…"
"For what?!"
She cleared her throat and prepared herself to deliver the blow.
"For rape."
The scowl on Patrick's face made it abundantly clear that he wasn't going down without a fight, and Olivia's stomach lurched. Four terribly difficult cases in the last couple of months - this looked to become the fifth.
Maybe this was God's twisted way of restoring normalcy to her chaos-filled universe after that talk with Rafael had gone so well.
As she escorted Patrick into her office and shut the door behind her, his red-hot anger so raw that it practically emanated from him, Olivia caught sight of the phone receiver she'd hastily put down barely three minutes ago and felt a trace of the buoyant mood she'd been enjoying earlier return. Even if this case proved as terrible as the ones that had come before it, at least she had the comfort of knowing that she and Rafael had finally gotten somewhere.
And so she turned to face Patrick with a renewed vigour, the prospect of dinner with Rafael at the end of the week her light at the end of the tunnel.
"This whole case goes down to consent."
Rafael stared at the gamut of photos pinned to the squad room corkboard, his mind in a frenzy over twin evils: the messy case they now had before them, and the absolute hell that was standing one foot away from Olivia Benson without being able to touch her - so hellish that he had to physically move away from her before he combusted.
He had to focus on the case - he'd found out from a very panicked Olivia over coffee the day before that it involved the son of her ex-partner; the videos and photos had already gone viral. But even as Carisi, Fin and Amanda went over the details of the case behind him, all he could look at was her - the subtle slump of her shoulders, the testy frustration in her voice, the emphatic way she moved her hands when she made an important point.
This case definitely was getting to her, and he wished he could do more about it.
"Double-check the traffic cams by the park. See if TARU can track down whoever took this Internet picture. Maybe they know something."
"Copy that." Fin hurriedly scrawled a reminder to himself on his notepad while Carisi and Amanda gathered their laptops and immediately headed back to work at the comfort of their own desks. Olivia lingered and stared at the cork board, trying to make sense of the sheer number of the photos they'd recovered from the party photo albums, but also detecting the burning gaze of someone standing behind her...
Is someone staring at me?
She whipped her head around and wasn't at all surprised to find Rafael standing in the exact same spot he'd been in a minute ago, his piercing green eyes boring into her with a mix of emotion - frustration, concern, sympathy…
She couldn't tell what, exactly, but something about the look in his eyes made her feel naked; vulnerable - even in the midst of all these people.
(If she weren't so frazzled about the case, maybe she'd have felt a little turned on. Just a little.)
"Look, I'm just trying to be thorough and make sure that we give you all of the evidence," she asserted before he could get a word in - before she inevitably crumbled.
Rafael flinched at the testiness in her voice. "Liv, I get that you and the father were partners. I'm sure there was a bond…"
"There was," she interrupted, eyes still trained on the notice board before them. "Before all of this."
She'd been hoping to tell him about her history with Patrick when the initial investigative flurry died down, maybe over a drink or two at Forlini's like they always did, but resistance and patience were futile. She couldn't not tell Rafael the full truth - especially not when he continued to look at her that way.
"My first bust, Patrick was upstairs securing two dealers. I was downstairs, arresting the third by myself in another room. There was a pile of cash, a pile of drugs… the perp accuses me of stealing it."
Rafael nodded sympathetically, a look of comprehension now crossing his face - he knew exactly where this was going.
"Obviously, I didn't, but IAB came after me hard until Patrick testified that he was with me the whole time." She winced recalling her first trip to IAB - this was long before Ed Tucker had anything to do with them, and she distinctly remembered sitting in her uniform, hands pressed to her legs to prevent them from shaking.
"He lied to save your ass," Rafael interjected indignantly. This sounded dangerously close to guilt-tripping, and he didn't like the sound of it. "In my world, that gets you disbarred."
He stood by the conference table, vaguely aware of Fin, Amanda and Sonny hard at work across the room, but impervious to anything else. Olivia just can't catch a break, can she? They'd started the fall with a string of three incredibly difficult cases, and now the ghosts of her past were coming back for her…
It made him sick to his stomach.
"Yeah, in my world, it gets you a promotion," she retorted sarcastically.
"Look - you don't owe him anything, Liv. You're not pulling facts out of thin air," Rafael said emphatically - maybe a little too emphatically.
Olivia's defeated, exasperated look ate away at him. "Doesn't make it any easier, though. Whatever I say or do, Patrick's convinced that I'm coming for Ellis' head."
He took a nervous step toward her. "But you're not. You're working this as rigorously as you would any other case."
He was within inches of her now. Olivia's eyes were begging for his touch, his comfort, but they couldn't; not here. And it stung.
God damn it, he wished they were in the privacy of her office, because it was getting even more difficult not to reach out and touch her; to tell her that he had her back without uttering a single word.
The inches separating them felt like an ocean.
He dipped his voice to an urgent, emphatic whisper, conscious of the people buzzing around them but also of how badly he needed her to know this. "I know this isn't easy, Liv. But I'm in your corner."
"Thank you," she whispered, her hand lightly brushing against his. "I needed to hear that."
Content that Fin, Amanda and Carisi were engrossed following the leads they'd been assigned, Rafael decided to fuck this game of avoidance and give Olivia's hand a quick - but affectionate - squeeze. "Promise you'll call me if something comes up or you need to talk, okay?"
Her face lit up ever-so-slightly feeling her skin against his. "I will."
Rafael's smile was warm and comforting, although that quickly turned to a concerned eyebrow raise when he caught sight of a familiar face approaching the desk sergeant. "Your victim. Were you expecting her?"
Olivia turned around and was surprised to see Janie Spears in the doorway. Had she arranged a meeting she'd then forgotten about? Surely she couldn't have - and she hoped this impromptu visit didn't bring more bad news with it.
"I'll let you talk to her. I'll call you later, okay?" He reached over for one more quick squeeze of her hand.
And I love you, his mind was screaming at him to add, but he didn't want the first time he said it to be in the middle of the squadroom while they were knee-deep in a developing case. It could wait.
She left him with one last weary smile and walked away to escort Janie into an interview room, Rafael's eyes following her every move. There was a renewed sense of purpose he hadn't seen during their briefing a few minutes ago, and the thought that he had some part to play in it was heartening.
He reached for his phone with the intention of writing himself a reminder to call Olivia that evening, but figured that he probably didn't need to. His mind always had its own way of reminding him of her.
"You really didn't have to come with me, Rafael."
Olivia turned to face Rafael in the passenger seat, where he was typing Patrick Griffin's address into her GPS, his typically impeccably-styled hair now slightly tousled after a long day in court and eyes flooded with exhaustion - so what the hell was he doing in her car at the start of what looked like an agonising bumper-to-bumper drive to Nassau County? "I can drop you off at home on the way out of the city, you know," she offered, hoping that he would take her up on it before he regretted wasting more than two hours of his evening for this.
He met her concerned gaze with a weary - but sincere - smile. "I already told you, Liv - it's fine. I'm here of my own accord."
"We're probably going to miss dinner time at the rate traffic is moving now," she pointed out, knowing how highly he regarded his mealtimes.
It didn't seem to faze him. "I know; I'm going to be fine, really. Worst case scenario - we can take a detour through Flushing and I'll hop out of the car to get us some amazing Chinese food for us."
"Gosh, it's impossible to argue with you," she retorted with a playful eye roll.
"Thank God, because I'd be out of my job otherwise," he shrugged.
She turned to him as they exited the Queens-Midtown Tunnel, the warm glimmer of the sunset suddenly flooding the car. "Squabbling with you still beats driving out to Nassau County alone, so thank you for coming with me. I mean it."
He took a slow sip of the coffee he'd bought on the way and kicked off his shoes. "Anytime."
Rafael wanted to sit in this car in god-awful traffic with her on a two-hour return trip. That probably was the first bright spot in what'd been a terrible week.
"I guess that's one upside of being stuck here with me. We can finally sit down and have a real conversation."
As those words escaped her mouth, she realised it was probably the very reason he'd volunteered to join her on this impromptu road trip, and her suspicion was quickly confirmed by Rafael's knowing look.
Guilt flooded her as she remembered that their plans to get dinner still hadn't materialised over a week later. She'd wanted to so badly, of course - this was one thing she absolutely detested having to take a rain-check on, and she hoped the apologetic glances she'd cast him when they found themselves stuck in the squad room for yet another evening had made that abundantly clear, but they'd never really talked about it. No better time than the present, I guess.
"I'm sorry that we haven't been able to get dinner like we planned, Rafael," she told him apologetically, keeping her eyes peeled to the road while anxiously awaiting his reaction.
"You don't have to apologise, Liv. It's not like you've wanted to put this off," he said reassuringly, which instantly quelled half her nerves.
"Believe me, that's the last thing I've wanted. When Ellis took the deal, I thought things were going to be resolved once and for all. And now, here we are, driving to godforsaken Syosset to confront Patrick about witness tampering?" She rubbed her temple in frustration.
"Well, if you look on the bright side, it's us on this drive to godforsaken Syosset and we don't have anything better to do." He reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze, realising for the first time just how tense she was - he could see it, of course, especially after spending the last week preparing for Ellis' trial with her, but to actually feel that tension in her touch brought on another wave of pain that he didn't quite anticipate. "Might as well enjoy the trip. It's really not often that I drive out to Long Island."
"You don't even drive, Rafael," she quipped with a dry chuckle, and Rafael felt some of the tension in the car dissipate.
"Excuse me, Lieutenant - I absolutely do have a license. But who the hell owns a car in the city?"
"All the people who own the cars you call on Uber, for starters."
"Alternate side parking is a bitch, and you know it. And don't even get me started on even finding a space. Reminds me of a time in college - I rent a car to move my stuff back home at the start of the summer, and I park it on a street I think I remember after driving around for an hour - until I get back the next day and the car's gone. I forgot where I parked it."
Picturing a frantic 21-year old Rafael roaming the streets of the Bronx for his missing rental thoroughly amused her. "So… did you find it?"
"It was literally on the street parallel to my apartment complex. Racked up a couple of tickets, though."
"And that scarred you enough to make you not want to drive in the city anymore?"
"That, and the fact that I can hitch rides from people like you," he smirked. "Let's just pretend we'll be vacationing in some hippie Hamptons town with artisanal flower and pickle shops on the main street and where all the men wear Vineyard Vines."
"Speak for yourself - you're exactly the type to wear Vineyard Vines." She'd never seen his closet before, but could imagine the rows of neatly folded polo shirts he kept in there - shirts that he didn't wash or fold on his own, of course.
"You clearly haven't seen me in casual clothes enough, Liv. Don't need Vineyard Vines when I have a whole collection of Harvard T-shirts. Knowledge is the best brag."
"Once a smart-ass, always a smart-ass, huh?" she teased back, although the thought of him in casual clothes proved extremely tantalising. "Hey, at least we can enjoy this sunset for free." She gestured towards the left window, where the sun was bathing the highway in radiant, ethereal pink and purple hues.
"It's beautiful," he said in awe. "Almost as beautiful as you."
"Did I hear you right?" she blurted out. From playful teasing to the gravity of that compliment - the way his voice suddenly filled with passion made her tremble.
"I almost wanted to wait until our date to say that, but why wait?" he shrugged casually. "I mean it, Liv, whether or not I say it to you in a fancy Columbus Circle restaurant or in the middle of bumfuck Queens."
God, this man will be the death of me. She had to force herself to keep her eyes on the road.
"Fancy Columbus Circle restaurant? Where were you planning to take me?"
"Well, the date isn't off, is it? More like where I'm going to take you when we do go on this date," he smiled slyly. "I'm not going to spoil the surprise."
"Please don't take me to a place that makes food out of foam or deconstructs everything." She cringed recalling the terribly awkward meal she'd had with Ed at the Michelin-starred place, the green tiramisu almost as unbelievable as the news that he'd left IAB for her.
"As long as we're together, we'll only be consuming real food, I promise," he assured her. "And I think I know enough about you to guess what you'd like."
She turned to him with a confident, playful smirk. "Bold claim. Let's see how much you know."
Rafael put his hands up in mock surrender. "Is this an interrogation, Lieutenant Benson?"
"I don't know - do you want it to be one?"
"I can't invoke my right to counsel," he whined petulantly.
She rolled her eyes. "You are counsel, Counselor."
He quickly turned his attention to the silver dial on the dashboard. "If I turn your stereo on now, what song's going to come on?"
"I thought I was the one quizzing you, Barba," she argued back, but it was too late - he'd hit play on her stereo, sending the rousing chorus of If It Makes You Happy coursing through the speakers.
"Sheryl Crow?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, I was a very bored and angry beat cop with a fuck ton of emotional baggage and her music got me through the night shift," she clarified sarcastically. "Might as well play her for old times' sake."
"What does your squad think of your taste in music?"
"They don't know about my taste in music because they don't have their hands all over my dashboard, unlike you."
"Well, I'm glad I can be that person for you," he proclaimed with a smug grin.
"You're not turning it off?" she asked when she realised he'd returned to leaning back in his seat, arms behind his head like they really were on vacation and not hunting down a man who'd ruined their trial by creating a fake witness.
"If we're pretending we're on a road trip, then we ought to have some driving music on. And Sheryl Crow makes better driving music than my choices of soundtrack."
"Your turn to tell me - what do you listen to?"
"Broadway hits, jazz classics, the occasional 80s rock. I do know most of the Hamilton soundtrack, if that appeals to you."
That was the Rafael Barba she knew. Broadway? Jazz? She certainly didn't expect anything less. "I'll get back to you when I find the time or money to actually see the show. Isn't it ridiculously difficult to get tickets?"
"Then remind me to take you sometime. I know a guy who can hook us up." He couldn't help but burst into laughter when he saw Olivia's confused expression. "Friend from Harvard who got into theatre production. I'm not scoring tickets illegally."
"Thank God." She pretended to heave a sigh of relief.
All I wanna do is have some fun…
"You're cute when you sing, you know," he remarked with an amused grin.
She blushed realising that she'd actually been singing out loud - so natural was his presence that she hadn't even given it a second thought. "Pretend you didn't hear that."
He ignored that remark and stared out the window at the sunset. "It's nice to see you like this," he commented after a long pause.
"See me how?"
He turned in her direction. "Looking so relaxed," he smiled.
She hadn't even thought about that, but realised with some glee that it was true. She had good music, an especially spectacular sunset out the window, and a great companion - what more could she want? Even though their destination was far from ideal, she could steal one joyous hour for herself.
As signs for Syosset started appearing and they filtered off the Interstate, Olivia's stomach lurched remembering her original purpose in driving all the way out here. The sun had completely dipped by this point, and what might've looked like a delightful, idyllic suburb in the daytime now felt ominous and eerie.
"Hey… are you alright?" Concern filled his voice.
Two miles to your destination, Google Maps proclaimed in taunting, bold text.
"I don't know, really," she mumbled.
His tone was confident; stabilising. "You've made all the right calls on this investigation, Liv. You're not cutting Ellis a break. I know that you'd never cut Ellis a break because of Patrick. No matter how much he badgers you about it."
"I just can't believe that I'm actually going to have to ask Patrick about witness tampering. He was my first partner. I looked up to him; he taught me so much of what I know."
"You were just a rookie, Liv. It's natural that you'd look up to the person assigned to show you the ropes," he rationalised.
"He did lie to save my ass after that bust," she pointed out defeatedly.
"You never asked him to. He did that of his own accord. Would you have asked him not to, if you had the chance? Would you have faced off against IAB?"
It was an enormous question, but the answer was almost blindingly clear. "I would've told him not to lie for me. I'd have faced off against IAB."
"See, your moral compass has always been intact, Liv. You have integrity. And that'll always distinguish you from Patrick - even if you looked up to him once. He can't hold his own choice against you."
He was right. She wasn't going to let Patrick Griffin guilt-trip her into doing anything - especially not now.
"Thank God you're here to remind me of that," she said as Patrick's street came into her line of vision. "Because the last thing I need now is for this to be a wasted trip."
Between her clammy palms and shaking legs, Rafael's smile was much-welcomed. "Well, I'm glad I came in useful."
Approaching your destination on the right.
Olivia stopped the car by Patrick's house and put the car in park, suddenly acutely aware of just how silent this neighbourhood was - so silent that she could almost hear her heart thump in her chest. The brick house could have come straight out of Better Homes and Gardens, with its manicured lawn and patio swing and immaculately-trimmed hedges - a picture of comfortable suburban bliss.
It was an image she'd already started blowing up.
But they'd driven all the way here; there was no way this was going to become a wasted trip. Now she just needed to muster the courage for the last step - to walk up to his damn door.
"Ready?" Rafael asked concernedly when she didn't budge from her seat.
"I don't know," she confessed doubtfully.
"You'll be fine, Liv," he smiled. "And I'll be right here waiting when you get back."
She unclipped her seatbelt and grabbed her phone from the holder with an ounce more confidence than she had a few moments ago.
You're just here to set things straight with Patrick. Focus on the trial. Diego Perez.
Rafael reached over and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, his touch conveying more than he needed to say.
And I'll be right here waiting when you get back.
She liked the sound of those words.
With a decisive slam of the car door, she walked up Patrick Griffin's driveway, feeling Rafael's watchful - and protective - eyes follow her to the door. Did she need him there? Not really. But did she want him there? Absolutely.
She took a deep breath and knocked on Patrick's door.
"Something wrong, Liv?"
Olivia looked up from the sea bass that she'd been picking at - which was delicious - and met Rafael's concerned gaze. "No, nothing's wrong."
It was supposed to be an evening to look forward to. Ellis had pled guilty the afternoon before, and his apologetic elocution in open court was enough for Janie. Jack McCoy had decided not to charge Patrick with witness tampering. She'd finished all the paperwork for the case. And here she was, having dinner with Rafael, in an industrial-chic Greenwich Village restaurant she'd always wanted to try but never had the chance to. Yet she stared hesitantly at the piping hot food before her, glass of Cabernet still untouched, mind racing to places she didn't want to be.
"Come on." He reached across the table and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Something's bothering you. Is it the case?"
"I'm sorry, Rafael. I know Ellis is doing time and that we can put this behind us, but it's just been… a terrible week," she sighed. "I could go a few days without some new calamity."
"No one understands that better than me," he replied sympathetically. "I know closing a case doesn't magically make the pain of the investigation go away, Liv. Especially when it was this personal."
"The last thing I want is for us to have to talk about this while we're supposed to be having dinner," she lamented. Brian and Ed never were particularly fond of talking about work on their dates, and for good reason - sex crimes had a unique way of making people lose their appetites and hence didn't quite make good conversation topics. And she wasn't about to make the same mistake with Rafael.
He took a long, slow sip of his wine - ah, fuck, he'd even given up his usual scotch to split a bottle of wine with her, which she'd seen him do a grand total of two times in the years she'd known him. "We can talk about whatever you want to talk about."
Guilt flooded her. "It's not fair of me to burden you with that when we're supposed to be enjoying ourselves tonight."
He wasn't fazed. "It's not like I don't know the details of this case. We've both been staring at the exact same sheets of paper for the last few weeks. Nothing you say will shock me."
"That's not the point," she clarified. "Work just has a way of getting in the way of all my relationships, and I don't want to make the same mistake with you."
He put down his fork and leaned in, his green eyes warm and understanding. "But your job's a big part of your identity and you shouldn't have to hold back, Liv. Especially with me. You're allowed to talk about it," he replied reassuringly. "And believe me, if I didn't want to talk about something, I'd tell you right to your face."
This was very new to her - for years she'd tried desperately to perfect the art of compartmentalising; keeping her cases and dating life completely separate even if that meant years of unshed tears and unspoken anguish. Now she had someone who not only got exactly what she saw on a daily basis, but was even encouraging her to get things off her chest?
She'd really struck the jackpot with Rafael Barba, and that reminder made most of her anxiety dissipate. That'd been her main worry, but his calm, steady tone gave her all the reassurance she needed.
"Do you still want to talk about it?" he pressed gently, hand still touching hers. Even the remainder of his (delicious) steak couldn't distract him from her.
Olivia shook her head and smiled at him. "It's fine. I guess I was more worried about how we'd talk about this than I was about the actual case," she confessed. "I didn't want to ruin this date."
A look of comprehension crossed his face. "This job is as important to me as yours is to you. You have nothing to worry about. And you're not ruining this date."
Her appetite now returned, she picked up her fork and dug into the piece of fish on her plate. "I'm just glad we can finally do this after the crazy week we've had," she said, eager to turn the conversation topic back to something more light-hearted.
"So am I. Although that road trip we took was pretty fun," he winked.
"It definitely was." The glimmer of the sunset on his screen, Sheryl Crow blaring from the speakers, that huge smile on her face - she wished she could relive it all. Moments like these, when she could leave the hectic case-chasing behind, even for just an hour, and throw herself into something so purely joyful now felt few and far between, and she now knew to treasure every one she got.
Although dinner with him was a pretty damn good substitute.
"We should do this again sometime soon," he suggested with a twinkle in her eye as they left Loring Place and strolled into the night, her arm looped through this and head resting on his shoulder. Had he really just been on a real date with Olivia Benson? It still felt too good to be true.
They walked in the direction of Washington Square Park, the imposing arch coming into view, and the look they exchanged made it clear that the exact same memory had popped into both their minds - the sunny spring afternoon they'd spent here and the difficult conversation that it brought, where all this had begun.
But here they were now, fall now descended over the city, arms looped and footsteps in sync like they'd never skipped a beat - and they didn't have to exchange a single word to know that this was exactly where they both wanted to be.
A few nights later, Olivia inhaled the fragrant aroma that wafted through her apartment and realised that it was the first time in ages that it smelled like home. Sure, she often heated her take-out and whipped up the most basic of meals for herself and Noah (and occasionally, Lucy), but tonight was different.
Because Rafael Barba was standing in her kitchen, worn Harvard shirt (not Vineyard Vines, after all) and sweatpants on, softly humming a song she didn't recognise as he stirred a batch of oatmeal cookie batter, the lasagna they'd just made baking in the oven.
It was picture-perfect domesticity - something that she wasn't used to in the slightest and had long eschewed, but that she realised suddenly was something she certainly could get behind.
She closed Noah's bedroom door behind her with a gentle click, catching his attention; he turned around, spoon still in hand and arms dusted with flour. "Noah's asleep?"
"Oh, definitely. Lucy wasn't kidding when she said that he was worn out after that trip to the playground," she laughed.
"I guess that leaves the two of us to enjoy this very child-friendly meal."
A part of Olivia wished that Noah was awake to enjoy his share of the food and talk to Rafael, but a much bigger part of her was grateful that her son was sound asleep and had left them to enjoy the evening in peace. This was a new side to him - one so relaxed, so unguarded - that she wanted to savour alone.
Olivia watched as he shaped the cookie dough into tidy lumps and carefully loaded them onto her only usable baking tray. "This probably will be the nicest child-friendly meal I've ever eaten." He'd shown up at her door with two gigantic Whole Foods bags full of brands she didn't recognise but just knew were top-shelf products, and then confidently taken over her kitchen, Olivia pitching in where she could, but content watching him work his magic on the food - and her.
She'd never quite forgotten the time he admitted to her he was quite the baker, but still didn't quite believe him until now, when she could finally see him in action.
She hastily grabbed a mound of dough and rolled it between her palms before he caught on to her staring at him, but her eyes kept shifting back to the dexterous, effortless way he shaped the dough between his palms.
Those hands, those damn hands.
(She still remembered the way they felt roaming her naked body, and god damn, it was good.)
(That memory turned her cheeks a beet red.)
"You have flour on your nose, Liv."
The sound of his voice snapped her out of her reverie. "What?"
Rafael lifted a finger to her nose and gently brushed the dust off her skin with a soft, entrancing chuckle, that split-second caress lethal enough to send shockwaves through her - his body language was casual, but eyes smouldering with desire. "I said, you have flour on your nose, Liv."
That touch lingered on her all through plating their food; all through polishing half their lasagna at her kitchen counter. It lingered as they ate the freshly-baked cookies straight from the tray and raided the freezer for the leftover pints of Ben & Jerry's she saved for special occasions; it burned as they loaded the cookware into her dishwasher, their shoulders just brushing as they stood side-by-side in her New York-size kitchen. They laughed over Rafael's college shenanigans and Olivia's memorable sorority years, secretly grateful that Noah was a heavy sleeper, and chatted about movies and West Village restaurants and the Catskills mountains - everything that wasn't their work.
She hadn't been happier in a long, long time.
The conversation flowed as smoothly as the wine from the bottle they emptied, Olivia catching herself smiling like an idiot as they settled into a cosy, intimate silence on her couch, her head in his lap and his hand running through her ponytailed hair until her eyes were on the verge of closing.
I could do this all night, she thought to herself, laying in his arms and falling asleep in them...
And now, she realised, nothing was stopping her from doing just that.
"Should we head to bed?" she asked in a half-whisper, her heavy eyes drifting towards her bedroom door.
Rafael paused and straightened in his seat, wondering if he'd heard her right.
Should we head to bed?
She wasn't chasing him out of her apartment like he'd been secretly dreading - in fact, it was the contrary. It was an invitation - one that felt almost unnecessary after the evening they'd had.
It was only the natural thing to do next.
(After all, he realised with a smirk, he already was dressed for bed.)
Olivia gripped his hand and led him into her bedroom, the soft glow of her bedside lamp filling the room with an alluring, shaded warmth. His breath caught as he took in the sight, realising that he'd never seen Olivia's bedroom before despite his occasional visits to her apartment over the years. Cream sheets, matching pillows, no-frills furniture, a lavender diffuser, even a vintage movie poster hanging above her bed… it all was very tasteful; very Olivia.
Something about this was strange - like he'd accidentally stumbled upon something he wasn't supposed to be looking at - but when she emerged from the bathroom, make-up erased and work clothes replaced with a worn NYPD T-shirt and sweatpants, and a twinkle in her eye as they made eye contact, the quiet intimacy of the moment gave him a profound sense of comfort he didn't realise he wanted so badly.
As he stood in her bathroom alone, brushing his teeth with one of the brand-new brushes she'd left on the counter, his feet pressed against her cold marble floor, he could hear the rustle of sheets on the other side of the door and the gravity of all this hit him in full force.
He was standing in her bedroom. She'd let him into the most private of spaces. She wanted him there.
A few minutes later, Rafael sat on the edge of her bed and watched wordlessly as she stood in front of her vanity and untied her ponytail, her brunette locks falling seamlessly to her shoulders and tickling the collar of her T-shirt. They climbed into her bed together, Rafael struggling to recall when the last time he'd fallen asleep with someone in his bed (who wasn't her) was and coming up blank. Olivia was two feet away from him; they were in bed together.
It wasn't their first time doing this - technically - but the desire that hung heavy over the room flooded him with nerves he hadn't anticipated. His pulse accelerated with a heady mix of anticipation, adoration and anxiety; his body was frozen. What to do with myself, he suddenly didn't know, as he watched Olivia adjust her pillows and pull the covers over them both from her side of the bed, which felt like a million miles away. Stay where he was and wait? Move closer to her? Touch her? Ask to touch her?
It was as though she read his mind. "You don't have to lie there like a log, you know," she teased gently. "You're allowed to touch me."
After two weeks of playing careful games around each other and resisting every urge he had to touch her in the middle of the squad room, this felt like rain in an Indian summer.
Permission from her officially received, Rafael mustered the courage to slide next to her, the floral notes of her moisturiser heavy in the air and giving her skin an almost ethereal glow. She turned to face him, their faces now inches apart and arms tangled between them, alert to his every breath.
Green eyes met brown and foreheads and noses grazed teasingly - but it was Rafael who gathered the courage to press his lips to hers first.
The small moan of ecstasy that escaped her throat was permission enough for him to lean in even closer, and the arms that wrapped around him were confirmation. He gently straddled Olivia's hips with his legs, their lips still connected, feeling as much of her as possible on his skin - and damn it, it was then that he knew for sure that he'd fallen so hard for her that he didn't want to imagine any other reality.
She was immense; she was everything.
When they finally pulled apart, quietly panting and contented, euphoric grins on both their faces, they let the now-comfortable silence settle over the room, his arms still around her as she reached for the light switch. Olivia sank into his arms, Rafael laying against her back protectively as the darkness enveloped them.
The pitter-patter of rain outside the window drowned out the noise of the street below and made the city feel a million miles away. Perfect for slumber, he thought, but something was keeping him from drifting off into slumber - and he knew exactly what it was.
"Liv?" he whispered into her ear, hoping she was still awake. He didn't know what he'd do with himself if she wasn't.
The soft "mmm?" that escaped her lips was his green light.
"You know I love you, right?"
The two seconds of silence before she next spoke felt like an eternity.
Her response was gentle but unmistakable. "You know I love you too, right?"
He couldn't see her face, but he could hear her smile.
"I always have."
"I know."
He planted a slow, tender kiss to the side of her head. He had Olivia Benson in his arms and he'd finally said those three words to her - what more could he need?
That thought lingered on his mind as he drifted off to sleep, a quiet contentment filling his chest.