Chapter Nine: A La Carte
Alex
As usual, Monday comes too quickly and I can't help being jealous as you lie sleeping in my bed while I get up to grab a shower, already running late for work. As I rush out to door to my car, I stop to leave you a note about groceries, and how to work the TV and other bits and bobs I forgot to mention over the weekend. I wonder what you're going to do all day.
Yesterday you said something about exploring Portland, wanting to see how it compares to New York. It surprised me after listening to you bitch about how hard it was to find the right way out of the city when you flew in. I left you a few of my better maps just in case you decide to venture out, and make the thirty-minute drive to work, missing the days of catching a cab or the subway. I pull into traffic and check my watch. I'm definitely going to be late. With one hand on the wheel, I sort through my briefcase and pull out my file for court. If I can just avoid the traffic on 5, take a back road into town, I might make it into court without looking like a complete idiot.
As I park in the courthouse garage I dial up the house on my cell. You must be in the shower and I assume you'll feel at home enough to check the machine.
"Hi Liv, I just pulled in at work and I forgot to say I probably won't be home for lunch. I have an in chambers meeting that I need to prepare for, and two motions to fight from a particularly skeezy defense attorney. I'll give you a call when I have a better hold on my schedule. I left some maps and a grocery list on the table. There's also a little cash there for the food, have fun and don't get lost."
I hang up quickly, cringing as I see my opponent, a man so slimy even Trevor looks good in comparison. "Mark."
"Miss Cabot! I trust you received my motions."
"Very optimistic, motion to suppress and a motion to limit scope of search? Overcompensating for something?"
"Funny Alex. Those detectives were out of line and you know it. The warrant was about as good as the paper it was written on, especially since there's no real evidence to tie my client to the victim."
"You know Jacobs, you're right. Absolutely nothing, except his daily stop for coffee at her convenience store, where he admits to ... what was it now... oh right, 'wanting to do that bitch ever since the first time I saw her.' No Mark, you're absolutely correct, totally groundless."
"Save your dramatics for chambers Cabot, you'll need them."
He pauses to hand me another motion, and I don't need to read it to know it's a dismissal. I open it anyway, and confirm that my day just got much longer and more annoying that it was already slated to be. I stop in my office to grab a file and check a case precedent before dashing off to my chambers meeting.
An hour later I've quashed all three motions, and Jacob's has managed to make himself look like a complete idiot. Today is going to be a good day, and I feel confident and secure as I march back to my office to prepare my case for this afternoon's trial. I can't keep the smirk off my face as I watch Jacobs hurry past me with a scowl, going to take the bad news to his soon-to-be convicted client.
As a courtesy I call Letzer, the captain of my new SVU squad, letting him know that the trial should begin as scheduled this afternoon. As usual, the man sounds like he couldn't care less, and I hang up frustrated once again. I'd love to take you over to their station and let you loose there for a day. I've no doubt you could clean them up quickly, and teach them what it means to be an SVU detective.
While I'm still thinking about you, I pick up the phone to call your cell.
Olivia
"Hey you! How's work?"
"Not bad. I'm about ready to strangle the entire SVU squad but other than that things are going pretty well."
"Problems?"
"ugh. Just a bunch of men who really don't care that much."
"Isn't their unit by volunteer too?"
"Yeah, I'm not sure what these guys are doing here, but it really makes me miss the days when Don was storming in and out of my office at regular intervals."
"Heh. So what's on the plan for today?"
"I have a trial after lunch, so I won't make it back to eat, but if things move quickly enough I'll probably make it home for dinner if you don't mind me bringing a file or two with me."
"Of course not! What time should I expect you?"
"Not sure, can I give you a call when I get a break?"
"Sure. Anything special you're hungry for?"
"Surprise me." Well that's something new. Usually you like things all planned out. It's why I was a little nervous about this trip. You love to surprise me, but you hate being surprised. Or you did anyway. I grab your list, after making one of my own, and leave the cash on the table. I do take the maps however, remembering how... interesting it was getting out of Portland and into your Salem-edged neighborhood.
Three hours later I've got semi-melted groceries in the trunk and I finally find my way back to your house. I never thought I'd say it but I miss the subway. How the hell does anybody find their way around here? Half the streets are barely paved, and most of them are only two lanes. Still, it's a beautiful place, and I can understand how someone could get attached here. Even the air is different out there. And in your house by the woods I'm amazed at how crisp the air is. I'll have to bring out my sneakers while I'm here and hike around.
In the meantime I have chicken thawing in the trunk, and I hurry to get it back in the fridge. Once it's safe, I pull out the mushrooms and arrange the spices as I'll need them to make your favorite pasta. It won't be from scratch since you (as always) lack some of my more chef-ly supplies, but I can still whip up a sauce from nothing, and the mushrooms look incredibly fresh. I chop all the necessary vegetables, and at four o'clock everything is ready to start cooking. I take my first real opportunity to peek around this place without you here.
I'm surprised to see you haven't done much painting, since you're the decorator in the family. Maybe it's just that you didn't want to get too comfortable, which is encouraging to me. At five-thirty you call to say you can be home in about an hour, and I start cooking, wanting to bake the chicken slowly so I don't lose any of the flavor.
When you walk in the door a little under an hour later, I can hear you sniffing the air, knowing that it's filled with all your favorite scents. As you step into the kitchen I turn around so you can see the second part of your surprise. I know you're familiar with the apron, I've greeted you with this particular sight before. The table is set, and I already have a fire going. I was going to wait until you got home to start the fire... but when you're not wearing anything but an apron and a smile... it gets a little chilly.
Alex
The sight of you in that apron immediately eases all of my work-related tension and I can't suppress a whole-hearted laugh. I love that thing. Especially when it's all you have on. It might even be better than my leather jacket. There's just something about the way it barely covers your curves that's sensual, and even a little silly. I set down my briefcase and take a minute to look you over from head to toe. Your body is tan and muscular, and your hands are perched on the slope of your hips, and above the top edge of the apron I can see just a hint of your cleavage, the swell of your breasts against the apron popping its Williams-Sonoma logo.
"Wow. Dinner? For me? I mean, I know I asked for a surprise, but I never expected you to prepare Olivia A La Carte. How did you know?" I wink at you as I walk into the kitchen and close the distance between us. Your grin gets bigger and you take my hand and reach around behind you to place it on your naked ass.
"See something you like?"
"Mmmmhmmm."
"Good, the chicken's all ready and the pasta should be done in a second. Why don't you drain it while I change."
"But-- wha-- hey!" Well this just isn't fair. And judging by the look on your face, you know it too. I leave the pasta boiling while I watch you walk out of the kitchen with an exaggerated swish to your hips. I can't help but lick my lips... until I hear the water start hissing on the stove and turn from my leering to tend to the pasta.
Olivia
I love the look on your face when I pulled away and told you I was going to change. The way your hand brushed off my ass as I walked away. I almost decided to let you make me dinner after all, but I worked hard on that, and after three hours of being lost on these crazy roads, I'm not letting this meal go to waste. By the time I come back you've picked your jaw up off the floor and the pasta is in the colander over the sink. I come up behind you as you shake the pasta to drain, placing my hands over yours on the handles, and resting my chin on your shoulder. We put down the strainer and you turn to kiss me, both of us warmed by this domesticity.
I could get used to this, cooking together, eating together. I can't get over how right it feels, looking at you across the table, watching you rub your lips together, savoring the food I prepared for you. The way you close your eyes after each bite, moaning around your fork. I forgot how sensually you react to food. I forget about my own plate, watching you enjoy your favorite meal... well besides Olivia A La Carte. You open your eyes to see me staring, and I wake from my reverie, and take my first bite, wanting to finish quickly so we can get to dessert.