As usual, I don't own SVU and wouldn't claim it if I did. I just like Barba and Benson and they need to fuck. Oh. Did I say that out loud? As usual, this is a canon-divergent AU, and I don't know how long it will be or when I'll finish it. Enjoy!

Unexpected
by ScintillatingTart

I:

There was a point where Olivia Benson was just ready to lay down her sword and give up. One loss more was one loss too many. And she was already past that point. Brian had just moved out, Munch had retired, and Cragen was starting to make noises about heading that way himself, and she was feeling the dark waters of malcontent swirling around her. It was bad enough that they couldn't keep an ADA on retainer for SVU – they cycled through them like the water bottles for the cooler – but they always seemed to be at least one body down and one foot out the door.

And she was so, so tired after the last few months. After the horrors visited at her doorstep in the form of William Lewis. After literally picking up the pieces of her soul and stitching them back together and lying about being fine, staring right into Brian's eyes and hiding how dead inside she still felt, the rage and pain she didn't feel she had a right to claim or hold onto – she couldn't continue to fight endlessly.

Which was how she found herself at a non-descript bar on the west side in the 50s with a glass of wine firmly planted in front of her on a Wednesday night, her badge still on her hip and her exhaustion plain on her face for anyone who cared to see it.

A glass clattered to the bar beside her, startling her. She raised her eyes from her wine questioningly to the man who was sitting there, a wry smirk on his lips. "You gonna drink that or stare at it all night, Detective?" he asked before he gestured for another drink.

"What's it to you?" Liv asked, annoyed by the interference in her misery.

"If you were on duty, you wouldn't be in here in the first place," he said. "And unless you're hiding from someone or just don't want to go home to your husband –"

She laughed bitterly. "Go home to my empty apartment," she countered scathingly.

The stranger's smirk relaxed into an actual smile as his next scotch arrived. "I know that feeling all too well," he said. "My boyfriend decided that getting a secondary role on Broadway meant that he could fuck around with a leading man. He's on the up and suddenly, I'm wondering why I'm stuck in Kings County as a Senior Assistant District Attorney."

She picked up her wineglass, tilted it in his direction and said, "Sorry." Then Liv took several long gulps and set it down again. "I was held hostage by a homicidal maniac for several days," she said very quietly. "It cost me… my ex, most of my close friendships, and I… don't sleep like a normal person. So if we're comparing shit sob stories, I mean –" She made a sour face and took another swig of her wine.

"I'm Rafael," he said.

"I didn't ask."

"I mean, we're talking shit – we should at least know each other's names," he countered.

"You're the one that started talking," she argued. "I was perfectly fine to stare at my wine and waste my night being miserable."

He cracked another smile; she wanted to punch him in the face. But she had to admit that it was an appealing face, handsome in a way that she hadn't thought appealing before. And his eyes bored into her soul in a haunting way, a shade of pale green that ate her alive from the inside out like an insidious fiend, stealing past her defenses quite easily. "And yet, here you are, squabbling with me."

"Has anybody told you that you're an asshole?" she shot back.

"I'm a lawyer: it comes with the territory. You still haven't told me your name," Rafael said.

"Olivia," she said. It wasn't worth lying to him or giving him a fake name; not when her very real badge was in plain sight and he could run her badge number if he really was with the Kings County DA's office. And maybe it wasn't the worst thing in the world, after all, to have some friends who weren't related directly to her job.

Though she wasn't entirely sure how she was going to make friends with some guy that was openly flirting with her about whose trauma was worse. Unless that mutual issue was supposed to be a turn on. But –

"The best part about being single is no one telling you not to have another," he was saying.

She studied him for a long moment. "How many have you had?"

"Seriously?" he shot back.

She flashed her badge in his direction and he scowled. "Don't make me," Liv warned.

"Buzzkill. You know you can see the interview where he trashed me on YouTube," Rafael said with a sad laugh. "Apparently I'm boring in bed, my cooking is too ethnic, I'm not gay enough – probably because I'm bisexual and I'll gladly dance in either ballroom – and my taste in musical theatre is suspect at best."

"Oh no, anything but the musicals," Liv gasped sarcastically. "Chasing tail is forgivable but god forbid you wanna fuck Liza."

"Woman, no," he scoffed. "She is horrifying. You, however, who I clearly do not stand a chance in hell of winning over to the dark side, I, of course, want desperately to take home and –"

She simultaneously felt flushed hot and ice cold, and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, but I –"

"You're not interested," he said.

"You're looking for a rebound, for revenge against him and to soothe yourself," she said softly. "I'm not really here for that at the moment, honestly." She tucked her hair back behind her ear and focused on her drink again, knowing that if the light hit her just right, he would see some of the scars along her neck and jaw that had finally healed; an ugly reminder of Lewis's havoc on her life.

She wanted to be left alone: alone, she could handle the torrent of shit that kept falling. She could sweep it into neat little piles that grew steadily into neat little mounds that grew into mountains that became more and more difficult to ignore as they loomed over her shoulder. But compartmentalizing it was a way to deal with it; maybe not the healthiest way to cope, but –

"Olivia," he said, his tone very gentle, "I just wanted you to say something. You were freaking me out over there, all quiet and shit, glaring into that wine like it killed your puppy." He paused. "You okay?"

She took a sip of wine and swallowed hard. "Fine." She glanced at him. "Not going to fuck you. Or date you. Were you actually dating a –"

"Eh… He was Raoul in Phantom of the Opera," he dismissed vaguely, waving his hand. "And now he's dead to me and his shit's in pieces on 5th Avenue after I accidentally dropped it down the fire escape. My bad. That's what you get for slander against an ADA who can't prosecute because it's a civil case."

Liv smiled in spite of herself. "I like you," she said. "I bet you'd kill it over here."

"Oh, babe, you couldn't pay me enough –" His eyes were twinkling. "What precinct are you out of?"

"The 16th," she replied, finishing off her glass and frowning. "My unit always seems to roll through prosecutors."

"SVU?" he questioned. "I hear tell you Manhattan SVU are some hard people to work with." He grinned. "I might know a couple people who might be interested in defecting to the dark side."

"Send them on over," she said, waving her hand. "We have cookies, a dental plan, whips, chains, and a safe word."

He laughed, and she smiled as her phone rang. She glanced down at it and let out a sigh before she answered. "Hey."

"Liv, where you at?" Fin asked.

"I'm fine – just about to head home for the night. I don't need someone else to worry about me," she said in a sharper tone than was necessary as she picked at the stem of her wineglass with her fingertips.

"The way you stormed out of here, I thought I'd give you time to cool off and then check on you," Fin said.

"Oh, I'm just out making new friends," Liv said sarcastically. "Rafael, say hi to my work buddy Odafin."

Rafael raised an eyebrow, then dutifully said, "Hello, Odafin."

"Benson, I'mma make you pay for that," Fin warned. "Seriously, you good, girl? You don't need me to come down wherever and rescue you from –"

"Nah," Liv snorted. She had no doubt that if Rafael the wonder!attorney got handsy, she'd have him on his knees on the floor in seconds, probably begging for more. He looked like the type. "I'll see you tomorrow, Fin." She hung up and grabbed her blazer off the back of her high backed stool, not noticing that the man to her left had come off his stool and was in her space.

"Hey, pretty lady, why don't I buy you a drink?" he asked, trying to help her back out of her jacket.

Rafael immediately came to her rescue. "Back off," he hissed, pushing the other man away. "She's a cop. And if she didn't see you peddling that E, I certainly did and I know every DA in Manhattan."

"Fuck you, dude –"

"Excuse me, I can stand up for myself," Liv interjected, coming around and firmly planting the heel of her hand against the bridge of the man's nose to knock him back into his seat. "Good night, Rafael. It was nice to meet you."

He slapped several bills onto the bar and followed her into the drizzly, foggy night. "Wait – am I just supposed to go by Olivia and the 16th Precinct – you could have lied to me –"

"Are you accustomed to people lying to you?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes. It comes with the territory."

She offered him her hand and swallowed back the panic reflex that came with every unsolicited touch, reminding herself that she was the one giving him permission to touch her. He took her hand in a firm shake, the callouses on his fingers and the palms of his hands gentle and comforting in contrast to her own. "Detective Olivia Benson," Liv said.

"Rafael Barba," he replied. "Now… phone number wouldn't go amiss?"

"Next you're going to ask if I have Facebook," she challenged.

He shot back a crooked grin. "You didn't flinch when I mentioned YouTube," he pointed out.

"I might watch the occasional cat video," she shot back, blushing under the lights. "Fine. I'll give you my phone number, but strictly for professional purposes. And so help me, if I get any kind of unsolicited sexual material from you…" She passed over one of her cards and tucked it into the pocket of his jacket, smirking.

"I promise I won't send any dick pics unless you ask for them," he teased.

She smiled wanly. "Mr. Barba…"

"Kidding, kidding," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "But you can't blame a man for trying."

"Actually –"

"Look, I know you're SVU. I started my career in sex crimes and moved on to major crimes and homicide now," he said. "But… I'm bad at this. It's why I've been with guys mostly: because we're easier. We want to eat and fuck and throw shit at each other and fight. And now I want to impress the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and she's giving off the big red no signal like someone hurt her bad and yeah… yeah maybe you'd be a rebound and maybe you're a little revenge but maybe not. Maybe we'd be something beautiful, but we'd never know because I can't figure out how not to look like an idiot." He loosened his tie in frustration and exhaled roughly.

Liv bit her lip and murmured, "You don't want me in your life like that, Rafael. But keep my number, okay? Eventually… eventually there will come a time." With that, she turned and walked away.

She didn't know how much of what she'd just said was true and how much was a lie she was telling herself to keep going. A little wish fulfillment, as you will. But it never hurt anyone, right?

TBC...