XV:

It was nearly midnight when Rafael startled awake, papers scattering down his lap. "Liv?" he called out into the apartment, blinking blearily at the red LED readout on his alarm clock. "Mi amor?"

"Sorry, Rafa – we had a perp in interrogation," Olivia murmured as she came into the bedroom, shedding articles of clothing as she did. She paused just inside the doorway to shimmy out of her pants and kicked them off. "You're still working?"

"I fell asleep," he complained. "You know… money laundering, racketeering and election fraud wait for no man." He yawned and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "You look sexy."

She rolled her eyes and stripped off her shirt, flinging it his direction, chuckled when it landed on his paperwork. "I look like hell. Probably smell like it, too."

"Nah, you probably smell fine," he said, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes. He shuffled the papers back into their file and decided he would deal with them in the morning; if he'd fallen asleep already, he would be of no use for the rest of the night. "Aside from the guy in the cells, how was your day?"

"Oh, the usual," she said, dismissively. She headed for the dresser and retrieved one of the t-shirts and pairs of lounge pants from the communal drawer in the middle before unhooking her bra and tossing it casually off wherever it landed. She shrugged on the clothes – which were a couple sizes big for her, but the ties at the waist of the pants kept them up and the shirt was comically, adorably big like a toddler in her parents' clothes – and hopped up into bed with him. "How was yours?"

"Trial prep," he said, gesturing at the file, notepad, and laptop scattered around him on the bed. "Mostly cut and dried, but…" Rafael groaned and saved his file, then closed his laptop. "Definitely time for bed."

"I programmed the coffeepot for five," Olivia murmured. "I have to be back at the office at six-thirty."

"So early?"

"The life I lead is oh so glamorous," she said with a sad chuckle. "Hey?"

"Hmm?"

"Cragen wants me to take the Sargent's exam. I… I told him I'd think about it, talk to you. I don't know that I want to –"

"You should," he said, pressing a kiss into her hair and pulling her closer. "I could list off all the reasons why, but the most important reason is that you've been holding yourself back all this time because you think you aren't worthy of it. You are, Liv. So get out there and do it."

"Will you help me? Study, I mean?"

"Of course."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, pulling the blankets up over them and settling in, facing him.

"About what?"

"Being so terrible the last few weeks."

"I've been distracted with work," he admitted. "I've been pretty shitty, myself."

She sighed. "I just… I stayed away because I thought if we fought more, if… we kept going to bed angry –"

He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I love you, Olivia."

She leaned into his embrace and sighed, pressing herself full-length against him. "It's not that I hate working with you – because I don't," Liv murmured, "it's just that I hate it when you treat me like everyone else. Like I'm just one of them."

"At work, you are just one of them," he pointed out gruffly. He took his glasses off and set them on the bedside table, reaching over to tap the lamp to shut it off. "We have to be impartial – if there's even a hint of impropriety, that you and I are being anything but amicable at work, then all of our credibility and our professional capability will be drawn into question. And I don't know about you, but that's the last thing I want for you."

"It's the last thing I want for you," she murmured.

"Fuck, Liv, I don't give a damn about me – I can get a job defending idiots and Wall Street as fast as McCoy would dump me. I'm not worried about me. I'm scared to death about you," he said gently. "You live and breathe blue and victims' rights – and you are the only cop I've ever met that I trust implicitly. It has nothing to do with us being married and everything to do with how you behave. Get it? I'll go to the mat to protect you, but you've got to give me something to work with."

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me," Liv breathed, pressing a kiss to his neck. She chuckled and sucked a bit on the spot, then released him. "I have a gun," she reminded him. "And I work out. You've got love handles."

"Olivia." It was pretty hard to keep the exasperation out of his tone. It wasn't as if he could just blow off hours of annoying meetings and arguments with other attorneys and judges to go lift weights; and even if he could, would he want to? He'd rather sneak off to the nut-roaster's cart and grab a bag of hot roasted chestnuts and stroll casually between the courthouse and his office. Getting sweaty was so undignified. But maybe he could go back to running on the odd day – that might…

He suddenly realized that she was gripping at the extra flesh in question and grinning at him with mirthful mischief in her eyes – and holy hot damn, was it hot. The moment she giggled – god damn Olivia Benson giggled! – he blanked completely for a second, drowning in a surge of what he could only describe as urgent need.

Rafael flipped Olivia onto her back in a smooth, practiced motion and growled, "What the hell are you laughing at, mi amor?"

"All that snacking you're doing, gorgeous, it's making you chubby," she teased.

He scowled at her and muttered, "Are you saying you don't love me anymore because I'm a little fat?"

"No… I'm saying we should have sex more often – and more enthusiastically," she said, "to work off the excess calories."

"I'm not sure that's how that works," he said doubtfully.

"Wanna try anyway? Can't hurt." She raised an eyebrow suggestively and wiggled her hips beneath him.

"Olivia –"

"Rafael…"

Santa dulce María madre de dios. When Liv said his name like that, all breathy and yet still somehow scolding like she was going to put up a little fight with her sweet, sweet loving… all rational thought was gone in an instant and all the blood in his brain went straight south.

"Fuck me," he groaned.

"I mean, I'm trying, but you're being a brat about it," she pouted.

"Woman, you're going to be the death of me," he groused, nipping at her earlobe playfully.

"Not till we're in our nineties at least," she murmured back, breath hitching on another breathless giggle. "Rafa – please…"

"Please what, Mrs. Barba?"

She looked him squarely in the eyes and whispered, "Don't tease me, Rafael."

"Olivia, promise me you'll think about –"

"God, you drive a hard bargain," she whined, drawing him down for a hungry, passionate kiss. When they were both desperate for air and reeling with lust, Liv broke the kiss and growled, "Fine, you can pay the fine for breaking the contract on my apartment and I'll move in here and we'll be a traditional married couple for the first time ever."

"And we can do this whenever we want," Rafael pointed out with a saucy grin.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she countered, jabbing her finger into his chest.

"I'm just excited to not have to pay a cabbie or load a Metrocard every time I want to fuck my wife," he shot back, rolling off her and pulling her onto her side with him. "Hey… I love you more than all the stars in the sky, Olivia Benson."

"Stop being cute and romantic," she complained, leaning in and kissing him lightly on the lips. "You make me want to keep you."

He chuckled and kissed her back. "No take-backs."

"I lost the receipt anyway," she teased, fiddling with the drawstring on his lounge pants. "Hey, so… I love you, too. More than those things your mom brings over and says I should eat because I'm not eating enough."

He bit back a startled laugh. "Mami is a bad influence," he pointed out. "And who exactly is the one who should stop snacking in this relationship?" He smoothed his hand over the dip of her waist and was rewarded with a half-hearted slap. "Seriously, don't ever change a thing, Liv – I love every bit of you from your head to your toes. Te amo, mi amor."

"You need to start running with me again," she teased softly, leaning in and kissing him again. "Are we going to do this or just… go to sleep?"

"It's late –"

"Never stopped us before."

He rolled his eyes and slapped at the lamp, turning it off, leaving them in the dark. "You know what? The love of my life agreed to finally move in with me – I don't even fucking care. I can drink more coffee tomorrow."

"That's the spirit, Barba," she breathed, sitting up just enough to strip off her sweatshirt and push down her pajama pants and underwear. "Now… you're a little overdressed for having fun."

He just shook his head and laughed as she kissed him again; it felt like they were a couple of teenagers on a school night, and maybe he should feel a little more guilty about staying up late… but, then again, with the distraction of Olivia and her gorgeous body…

"So you two are finally getting around to shacking up together?" Rita asked as she stirred her coffee and took an experimental sip before wrinkling her nose. "I mean, it's been what…"

"Tell me about it," Rafael said with a mirthless laugh. "But your nephew still has that van, right?"

"Yes, my erstwhile black sheep nephew still runs a moving company," she replied, "and I can get him to clear Olivia's place for you for the family rate, if that's what you were asking. And you can cut the line. I'll call him and have him call you." She paused and looked at him. "You two good, though?"

"Couldn't be better, actually," he replied cheerfully. "Why else do you think we're moving in together? Why do you think I switched jobs, moved to Manhattan, and have been cozying up to SVU?"

"Because you're insane?" Rita pointed out. "You wanted to be a judge."

"I want to be happy," Rafael said. "Liv makes me happy. Our life together makes me happy. What I have to do to achieve that life together… I don't know, Rita, it's inconsequential, really, isn't it?"

"Is it?" she countered, picking up her sandwich. "I mean… you've given up your dreams, but it seems like she's still sitting pretty over there at the NYPD. Hell, they talk about her like she's the golden girl."

"Rita, I know you don't get why I love her so much –"

"Amigo, you look at her like the sun shines out of her asshole," Rita said scathingly. "I mean, get some perspective. She's human, not a saint. Sooner or later, she's going to fall off this pedestal you and the NYPD have her up on. I mean, she can't be amazing at all things – I bet she sucks at some part of sex that you love."

"Actually, I can't complain about the sex, except that there isn't more of it – but that should be rectified by us actually inhabiting the same living space permanently," Rafael replied, taking a bite of his salad and making a face. "She said I have love handles last night."

"You do. Did it sound like a complaint?"

"Eh, fifty-fifty – more like she was teasing me and trying to get me to go running with her… as if that's going to happen." He stabbed viciously at his salad. "She doesn't clean worth a damn. And she burns water if I'm not supervising her cooking."

"Well… we just found her weak spots. She is human."

He made another face. "How do you lose weight when diet food sucks?"

Rita scoffed at him. "Oh, honey, you are whipped, aren't you?"

"Maybe I should go running."

Carmen knocked on the door. "Mr. Barba? Sargent Benson is here to see you."

Rita smirked. "This should be good."

Rafael rolled his eyes. "Carmen, tell her to come on in – but warn her that Ms. Calhoun is here."

Liv came in moments later with a brown paper bag and said, "I brought lunch, but I see you and Rita beat me to it –"

"What did you bring me?" Rafael asked. "Whatever it is is probably more palatable than this salad."

"Some barbacoa tacos from the food truck on the corner of Broadway and 23rd," Liv said. "Amaro and I were interviewing an employee of the Strand bookstore and I thought tacos might be nice, so I stopped and –"

He leaned over to kiss her as she settled onto the couch beside him. "God, I love you," he murmured. "Are you worried about my love handles?"

Liv made a face at him and rolled her eyes. "More of you to grab," she scoffed. "Anyway – I got myself a couple of the shrimp tacos, so we're definitely having a feast here."

"So," Rita interrupted. "I hear you're moving in with Barba, finally."

Liv shrugged and said, "Yeah. It'll save a lot of money in the long run, and maybe we can start saving toward a house or something down the road."

Rita raised an eyebrow. "Yeah… yeah, that would be nice, wouldn't it?" She shot Rafael a distinctly unimpressed look, then went back to her sandwich.

"Mi amor, Rita's going to talk to her nephew about moving your stuff," Rafael said. "Aren't you, Rita?"

"Yep," Rita replied. "Speaking of moving – I still haven't seen the new place. You should have us over for dinner or something if it's not terribly inconvenient."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "It isn't like I haven't invited you like five times –"

"After Olivia moves in, dumbass," Rita said forcefully. "You might not care about your reputation, but some of us do."

Liv gestured at Rita with her thumb. "She's right."

Rafael rolled his eyes again. "Fine. After Liv moves, we'll have dinner or something. Assuming we're not all working on the same case, that is."

"Have you given any more thought about changing your name, Olivia?" Rita asked.

Olivia looked at her like she'd grown two heads. "Rita, it's been years. Why would I do it now? And why is it suddenly more important that I be Mrs. Barba than Olivia Benson? It doesn't track: I'm still the same person I always was."

"Did you ever think about how it would affect him?" Rita asked, gesturing vaguely at Rafael.

He frowned around a bite of his taco. "It really doesn't affect me at all," Rafael mumbled around the food. "Olivia isn't my property. She belongs to no one but herself – and I trust her to make her own decision in the matter of her name. And her body. Because I expect the same respect from her." He wiped a dribble of juice from his chin with a napkin and made a face. "Damn it – my dry cleaner is going to have kittens when I take these pants in."

Olivia chuckled. "The dry cleaner has kittens every day you bring things in," she pointed out gently.

"Objection: badgering the witness," he grumbled. "These tacos are fabulous, though, Mrs. B."

Liv gave him a dirty look and sighed. "Not in public, Rafa."

"It's just Rita."

"And that's my cue to get the hell out of here before you two do something disgustingly domestic," Rita said, wrinkling her nose. "Thanks for the lunchtime diversion – let's pretend it never happened. Till we meet again, preferably as adversarial frenemies. Adios, bitches." She gathered her things and practically ran from the office.

"We barely even kissed," Olivia said. "I don't get it."

"Don't worry too much about it," Rafael sighed, finishing his second taco. "I'm not going to punish myself with salad –"

"Then you can start running with me on your days off," Liv said, leaning against him and smirking. "I promise we'll go slowly so you can keep up, old man."

"How am I the old man when you're the one that's actually older?"

She laughed and kissed him lightly. "Does it matter? I've got to get back – I love you. Hey, do you want me to pick up something for dinner or…?"

"I'll make something," he promised. "Te amo – hey, did I tell you how fabulous you look today?"

Liv blushed and murmured, "No…"

"That's on me, then, because you look absolutely gorgeous, Liv." He reached up and squeezed her hand. "There's something about those boots, mamacita…"

"You're pretty handsome yourself," she replied. "But I need to get going. I've got to get that DD5 in the system soon as."

Another quick kiss and he was left with the remnants of their hurried lunch and half a cup of lukewarm coffee, wondering how he was going to get through the rest of the day.

TBC...