It hadn't been easy to manage to get a night away. Olivia had to explain herself to Lucy and she didn't want to risk lying just in case.

They sat down side by side on the living room couch; Olivia's reticence was surfacing and she was almost certain that Lucy would be able to sense it. Despite the young woman being like family, she really wasn't used to discussing dates or boyfriends or anything other than Noah and Lucy's life; it seemed that was one of Olivia's work skills that bled in to regular life; always learning about others and never letting anyone else know too much about her.

Lucy was nervous too, when her boss indicated that there was to be a discussion, she immediately assumed she had done something wrong, Olivia was going to fire her – or worse, something was wrong with either Noah or herself.

They both sat side by side in uncomfortable silence for a moment while Olivia collected her thoughts.

"Am I in trouble?" Lucy asked timidly, hating the silence that was growing louder between them. It made her think the worst and she had to know. It was torturous waiting for Liv to say something.

A burst of relief hit the air when Olivia laughed and Lucy felt her body quickly relax. "No, Lucy of course not," she smiled, "you're amazing," she placed her hand on the 26 year-old's upper arm to comfort her, "this is about me, I am just… trying to figure out how to best explain myself."

"Oh," Lucy pressed her hand against her chest and smiled. "Thank God… I really thought I was about to be fired."

Olivia shook her head, "Never… I mean, I know one day you might want to quit working for us," she smiled reassuringly, "but I hope it won't be til I'm in aged care and Noah is busy with his own family," she joked.

Lucy laughed.

"Okay…" Olivia felt her face heat with self-consciousness. "so, I guess I don't know how else to say this, but… I have a date, well—pending how you feel about it, I suppose."

Lucy's smile grew with sincere happiness for her boss-turned-friend. "Really?!" she exclaimed, "Liv that's fantastic!"

"Thanks kiddo," she replied, "it's someone I've been seeing a little on and off over the past few weeks and… to be frank with you, I am starting to really like him-"

Lucy chuckled, "Olivia catchin' feelings for a man," she teased her, "I'm excited for you!" she paused, "oh my goodness, it's Trevor isn't it!"

Olivia's face reddened and Lucy knew it was true.

"Yes, it's Trevor…" she smiled, sheepish and a little bashful about the whole thing.

"Well," Lucy began, clasping her hands together feeling as though she could squeal in excitement. "Trevor has always been so nice and Noah loves him."

Olivia nodded, realizing that even her nanny who had met Trevor on a few occasions had picked up genuine vibes from him. "I just don't really want Noah to know about this though, okay?" she said seriously, "I don't want a repeat of what happened when Ed and I split up."

Both Lucy and Olivia remembered Noah's first little taste of defiance; asking for Ed, crying for Ed, Olivia having to call Ed and hope that he had compassion within him to come and talk to Noah for her, to help her explain why he was no longer there for bed time stories or a game of catch – a three-and-a-half-year-old did not take it lightly.

"That's fair, Liv, I won't say anything…"

"For so long it's just been Noah and I so it's an adjustment for me and I am trying my best to protect him – but—"

"Olivia, you don't have to explain yourself to me, you're allowed to do something for you, you deserve to meet someone, you're always busy giving your love to others, it's about time you get some of that love back," Lucy told her meaningfully, smiling at her boss, watching the awkwardness on Liv's face twist to gratitude.

"Thank you, Lucy, that's so kind of you…" she murmured. "So, I suppose my next question is, and this is even more awkward – I was wondering how you'd feel about staying the night here. I might not stay at Trevor's but…"

She saw the playful grin spread across her nanny's face again and couldn't help but to laugh, feeling like a teenager asking permission to have a sleepover.

"Detective Benson, are you asking if you're allowed to stay over at your boyfriends house?" she giggled.

Olivia nodded, her chuckles turning in to laughter at the absurdity of it. "I realize how weird this situation is, I feel like a child."

Lucy laughed. "Liv, go spend the night and have your date and I hope sincerely that he's the right guy… that would be the best."

"I really didn't want to put you in this weird position, Lucy," Olivia said, shifting awkwardly, "I'm sorry for this…"

"Liv!" Lucy exclaimed, "its alright, you're allowed to have a boyfriend, I think it's amazing! Trevor is so lovely. This is great news!" she said happily. "I am really happy for you. I am your nanny, I do overnights and I'm totally fine with that. You have to have your time too, I get that."

"I know…" she breathed, feeling a little rosy-cheeked. "But… I always feel guilty about being away from Noah on my days off."

"You don't need to… I'll take Noah to a movie and and we'll have a special night and then you and Trevor can have a nice night together."

"Thanks Lucy," Liv said softly, "you really are amazing—please um…" she felt sheepish, "please can we just tell Noah that I'm working? He really likes Trevor as I'm sure you've figured."

"Of course." Lucy agreed. "It will be fine, Liv, you concentrate on you."

Olivia knew better this time than to wear a tight dress or uncomfortable clothing. Under her thick, black pea coat she wore a simple, flowing dark blue dress with cuffed sleeves that fitted her curves perfectly without impeding her ability to sit down.

Trevor opened the door and grinned at her, his eyes taking in her frame in the doorway. Her smile engulfed his breath, extinguishing it as it broke for a little air. He swallowed, trying to breathe again. She looked radiant; she was wearing a little make up, her eyes were just a little more defined than usual and her cheeks a little pinker than he was used to.

"Hello beautiful," he greeted her. He took her hand, his fingers enclosing over hers, leading her inside and away from the front stoop.

She almost jumped from the gentleness of his hands on her skin.

"Hi," Olivia greeted him warmly as she stepped through the threshold. "You look nice," she added with a smile lingering on her lips as she allowed her eyes to sweep over him giving him the once over. He closed the door behind her and turned around to face her.

"I like your dress," his eyes were all over her, making her feel desired and wanted and more than anything, she was ready to get his clothes off him. The first thing she noticed was a plaid blue dish cloth slung over his right shoulder. She ignored it, and instead let her eyes focus too much on the buttons of his shirt that she would have loved to have watched pop with a swift and firm ripping open.

"I like your beard…" she remarked with a little laugh. It was just a little bit longer than it was two days earlier, she could almost feel the greying bristles brushing against the skin in the crook of her neck

. He took a step closer sliding his arms around her waist, drawing her near to him.

Olivia took his face in her hands and stroked the coarse hair on his cheeks with an adoring smile. She'd missed him in the two days it'd been since they'd seen one another. "You look gorgeous," she added.

Trevor loved the feel of her fingernails scratching softly at his beard, he leaned in to her hand, savoring the starry-eyed look in her eyes. "You are…" he murmured in a low, bass-y tone that made her feel instantly parched.

"Are you allowed to stay tonight?" he asked with a little smile, his voice turning playful; teasing almost.

"Yeah, I'm allowed," she chuckled. "You can keep me all night if that's what you'd like." He got closer, snaking his hands up her back over the top of her coat that she still hadn't peeled off. His mouth drew closer to hers; he could feel the heat of her words against his lips.

"Great…" he replied, holding her gaze, his eyes searching hers.

"I told Lucy about us," she said softly, wondering what his reaction would be.

"Oh yeah?" he drew away slightly. He rose an eyebrow, "What did you tell her exactly?"

"That this mama needed some private time with her man..." Olivia replied boldly; immediately nervous for his reaction.

Trevor chuckled and pressed his lips against hers before he responded. She kissed him back, pressing her chest against his button-down blue shirt. He pulled away first and stared at her for a second, "I'm not going to lie Benson, it's extremely hot when you call me your man…"

A smile danced happily upon her lips and her anxiety dissipated. "Yeah?" she challenged him.

"Yeah…" he nodded, sliding his hands up to her shoulders, reaching for the opening of her coat. He ruffled the material in his fists and pulled it gently over her shoulders so that he could see the skin of her arms and would be able to better admire her womanly figure hiding beneath it.

She wriggled it down her arms; regretting the departure of his arms around her.

He stepped to her side, her hands disappearing in the sleeves as he pulled it the rest of the way down until her hands were free again. He hung it up on the coat rack by the door and took her hand again; enjoying what was turning out to be a rather tactile closeness between them.

She felt his fingers lace themselves through her own as he guided her to the kitchen. There was a bottle of red wine and a plate of hor d'oeuvres on the counter which she already knew he'd gone to the effort of doing himself.

"Did you actually make dinner?" she asked, turning and looking over her shoulder at the dining table perfectly sit with candles burning. "Or did you order it from UberEats?" she asked.

Trevor laughed deeply as if her joke was hilarious. "I can fend for myself in the kitchen, you know that…" he winked.

"Well…" Olivia let go of his hand and made her way around the large marble breakfast bar to the other side, a step away from the stove where a large pot was bubbling away and she could see that there was something inside. "What are you cooking?" she wondered, about to the lift the lid to peek inside.

"No!" he quickly stopped her, swatting her hand away from the stainless steel pot handle. "Don't touch it with your bare hands," he said, just as she was about to grab it. He drew her hand away and smiled at her. "Are you crazy? Do you want to burn your precious little hands?" he asked, examining her olive skin, her short, well-manicured nails.

She chuckled. "See? I'm terrible in the kitchen…"

He kissed the back of her hand as if she'd had an injury before releasing his grasp. He pulled the dish cloth from his shoulder and placed it over the top of the pot, lifting the handle to show her some potatoes. He picked up a skewer beside the stove top and pierced one to see how cooked it was. "You won't ever think of setting foot in the kitchen again after you have the Trevor Langan roast potato delight…" he remarked.

Olivia laughed lightly and shrugged, "Wait til you have the the Olivia Benson after dinner delight…" she bluntly retorted.

His widened his eyes in shock and grinned bashfully, turning to her, noticing her impish smile and their close proximity. "Stop…" he murmured, "or else it'll be the Olivia Benson afternoon delight…"

She stared at his lips for a moment. "That's okay with me…" she said in what would have been construed as a whisper, "but… you've gone to all this effort," she added. He went to kiss her but she drew her head back and smiled, "better wait til after dinner…"

"Dammit, Olivia…" he sighed heavily but it was with good-nature. He quite liked the sexual tension, the anticipation and her sweet oblivion of just how charismatic and wonderful he thought she was.

"Well, am I wrong?" she pressed, she motioned toward the stove, "you're boiling potatoes like a … like a, I don't know… a man who boils potatoes—"

"You mean a chef?" he began to laugh, "Olivia Benson, were you raised by wolves?" he joked.

She shrugged, "may as well have been…" she had intended it as a joke, but he turned a little serious. He didn't laugh. He knew that there had been some issues with her upbringing, but she had never pinpointed anything too specific.

"Oh relax," she replied, "its fine, but I never learned to cook, it wasn't really something that happened often at home," she informed him, "but I'm willing to learn."

He put an arm around her waist and guided her away from the stove. "First lesson, stay away from the kitchen when I'm cooking and I better just.. create a little distance—I don't want any other kitchen accidents."

"Bummer," Liv replied, turning away and making her way back around to the other side of the counter, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

"I'm going to take these potatoes off the stove and put them in to the oven, why don't you pour us a glass of wine…" he suggested, "you can handle that right?" he teased.

Olivia rose her eyebrow, "I can…" she nodded. She didn't make the effort to move, she watched him from behind, his tall frame towering over the stove. He picked up the pot with both hands and came to the sink which was built in to the long, rectangular counter she was sitting at. He stood to her left, concentrating hard on pouring the water from the pot in to the sink.

She liked watching him move quickly and expertly, intrigued. "Who taught you to cook?" she wondered, motioning to open the wine bottle.

"My Mom loved to cook and my Dad…" he said, pausing while turning his back for a moment to open the oven. The scent of a roast dinner swirled through the air, tantalizing Olivia's taste buds.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a roast dinner.

"my Dad was a chef for a restaurant in the Lower East Side," he explained, "I used to help out during the summer and learned some stuff, I guess." Olivia's mouth watered to see the roast chicken laying on a bed of roast vegetables; pumpkin, squash, roasted peppers, onion and garlic. He added the potatoes and coated them in a little oil before seasoning.

Olivia poured them both a glass of wine.

"Did you get along with your parents?" she asked curiously, eyeing his backside as he leaned over to put the roast back in the oven. He turned around and caught her smiling.

"Eh…" he shrugged, lifting his hand and rocking it slightly back and forth, "so-so," he replied. "My Mom and I were close but my Dad…"

Her smile faded as she took a sip of wine and pushed the other glass toward his side of the counter. Her interest was piqued; she expected Trevor to have had an incredibly charmed upbringing for some reason; it was an assumption she wasn't proud of, but he always just appeared to be so together.

He tossed the dish towel back over his shoulder and gave her his undivided attention. He stood opposite her, behind the counter and picked up the stem of the wine glass. "How is it?" he asked, nodding toward the liquid.

"Its smooth and a little dry, the way I like it," she smiled at him. "So, tell me about your family…" she commanded him gently. He came to her side of the counter and pulled out a stool.

"What do you want to know?" he asked. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows, feeling a little warm in the kitchen.

"Just…what you said, you said you were close to your Mom but not your dad…tell me about that."

A smile adorned Trevor's thin, pink lips. "Hmmm…" he began thoughtfully, "My Mom was loving and nurturing and supportive and my Dad was an authoritarian type of man – he was chauvinistic, obnoxious and … pretty abusive, quite frankly."

"That's awful," Olivia remarked, "who was he abusive toward?"

Trevor was serious now, he stared at Olivia for a few moments longer than he had intended, thinking of his father and how much he was comfortable telling her. "My Mom…" he said slowly, "me…"

"Oh, I'm sorry Trev…" she reached for his hand but he shook his head and swallowed the feelings with the tiniest hint of a smile.

"Its fine, Olivia," he replied, he looked at her hand resting on the bench top and reached over, covering his over it. "I've let go of the past, when I was old enough I stood up to him and I learned to hit back –"

"That's not something a kid should have to learn to do," Olivia replied, turning toward him; their knees knocking. He just shrugged in response.

"What about you? How was your Mom? Did you guys get along?"

She took a swig of her wine and set it down, recapturing his hand with hers. His palm lay flat, facing upward. She let her fingers slide across it, tracing his long, thick fingers to their tips. She smiled at him; a wry smile, one that made him acutely aware that there was a lot behind it – the furthest emotion being happiness.

"My mother…" she sighed, avoiding his eyes, staring at his hand, caressing her fingers with affection. "We got along most of the time," she answered his initial question, "but it was a relationship fraught with role-reversal. I was the mother, she was the daughter."

"That would explain your extraordinary maternal nature," he replied, trying to spark a real moment of humor.

She scoffed good-naturedly. "Did your Mom struggle being a single parent?"

Olivia shook her head, "you really don't know about my mother?" she asked him, wondering if he was just trying to be nice.

He cocked his head to the side, a little confused by her question. "What do you mean?"

"About why I'm in SVU, what my situation was with my father – remember we discussed?"

"Yeah, but you just said he wasn't in your life and that you knew he was dead," he reminded her, still quizzical about what she was getting at.

"Oh, wow… you really don't know," she laughed; she felt refreshed that it wasn't gossip that he had picked up, that he genuinely had no idea what she was talking about. "Sorry, there was a time where it was idle gossip around the place." She paused, "so, my father raped my mother," she blurted out. "And she got pregnant and …." She let go of his hand and lifted her arms out, suspending them in the air making a laughable attempt at spirit fingers, "here I am…"

"Whoa…" he breathed, "Liv, I had absolutely no idea…"

"Its okay," she replied with a shrug, "it's not exactly raw anymore, but my mother never really recovered from her rape. She loved me but she also hated the sight of me… and she was a dirty alcoholic so it was tough sometimes."

"So," he thought for a moment, "do you think you're always looking for justice for your mother?"

It was a question that she'd thought about for many years. "Maybe… perhaps more when I was younger and first started in SVU, but now… I like to get justice for all victims."

Trevor reached over and tucked a stray curtain of hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips brush along the shell of her ear. Oliva tried not to flinch from the goose bumps that he immediately roused upon the surface of her skin.

"Well, Olivia Benson, you are made of a stunning mixture of grit, strength and beauty."

She managed a chuckle. "Thanks, Trevor."

He went to get up to check on the food, but paused before turning back to her, "Something's changed between us," he told her gently, not wanting her to feel self-conscious. "do you feel that?"

She nodded slowly, realizing that he was right, she knew something had changed – it was her, she had changed. She was more comfortable with him, the time spent without him had made her realize what it was that she really wanted.

"Yeah, I can feel it…" she agreed.

He flashed her his cheeky grin, acknowledging the shift between them. He went to the oven and used his dishtowel to remove the tray to toss the vegetables around.

Olivia set her wine down and watched him begin to mix something on the stovetop. "What are you making?" she wondered.

"A brown gravy," he replied, turning slightly to smile at her. She watched him whisk the liquid when she pushed herself up from the stool, feeling just that bit warm enough to lose some of her inhibitions.

Trevor could feel her presence behind him, he pretended not to notice but the heat of her body getting closer filled him with wanton anticipation. He felt her soft hands at his hips first. He finally looked over his shoulder to acknowledge her.

He let the gravy simmer for a few moments and placed his hand across his body to touch her hand, registering her there. She slid her arms around him, hugging his body against her.

"Captain Benson, this is nice…" he remarked. Her touch warmed his body through. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek on his lower shoulder; he was so tall, but she didn't mind one bit.

Once he was done with the Gravy he turned the stovetop off and turned around to face her. He took her face in his large warm hands. "What do you think changed?" he asked, sliding his arms beneath hers; she could feel the warmth of his hands radiating through the material of her dress and on to her skin.

She looked up at him, "I think … I realized I was wrong about you and now… I'm giving you my trust until you give me a reason to revoke it and I hope that you won't do that…"

He eyed her meaningfully, reaching up behind her to caress her brown tresses that were getting long. "I won't do anything to make you feel like you've made a mistake," he spoke his words deliberately; with purpose and sincerity. "I know that you've had some situations and circumstances that has made it really hard to fully trust in someone, but time will prove to you that you can rely and depend on me."

Everything he said sounded wonderful to her, but there was still a small part that reminded herself of just how quickly things changed – just how deceiving words could be. She'd spent a whole decade of her career trusting a person who she thought would never betray her and still.

"I guess I have a bad track record with people just up and leaving my life when they're done with me," she replied; her vulnerability surfacing. "Even after … decades."

Trevor drew her close and pressed his body against hers. He enveloped her in his arms and planted a kiss in her hair; the scent of her coconut-lime shampoo hitting his nostrils pleasantly. "Well, I can't speak for anyone else, Liv," he told her, his hand covering the back of her neck, caressing the baby hairs at her nape. "I can only speak for me and I would never misplace your trust or leave you without a word. If we stop … this, I'm always going to be fair to you because that's me and as I said, time will prove that…"

He buried his lips in her hair again, inhaling her sweet scent.

"Well…" she began, pulling away, "who knows? You might think the sex is terrible, I might think the dinner is awful….?" She joked, trying to take the gravity away from their conversation – she wanted their date to be light-hearted and carefree, not entirely intense with heavy conversation and promises of things that … frankly weren't worth promising yet.

"Chemistry and good food is everything. I'm confident about the food, how confident are you about the sex?" he asked.

"Well… I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, but all that is kind of reliant on you, so I'll deflect that back to you, sweetheart," she patronized him good-naturedly. "How confident are you about the sex?" she eyed him curious for his answer, wondering if he would cop out or hit her with the bold confidence that she'd previously found so sexy back in Chicago.

"Oh yes, detective Benson," he chuckled, inhaling the scent of her perfume, taking stock of her refreshing lack of inhibitions and wholeness. "I am quite confident about the sex and incredibly enthusiastic about the idea as you can imagine…"

They both laughed but the growing sexual tension between them was insurmountable.

It was almost impossible to go back to any other business that didn't involve the peeling off of clothing, but Olivia tried her best to add to the growing anticipation.

She knew from the familiar way he eyed her lips that he was bracing himself to kiss her. Her heart beat hammered against her chest, waiting, wanting him to go for it, willing it. She wanted to feel the intrusion of his tongue tasting her own.

She let out a soft sigh, Trevor wearing the brunt of the heat against his own. She'd planned to let him kiss her and pull away before it got too heavy; before they forgot about dinner.

Her hands curled around his upper arms, gripping him; pulling him closer as if that was even possible.

Trevor surprised her, his lips grazed hers; barely touching, enough just to let her mouth tingle. She leaned in to try to feel their impact but he pulled his neck backward and smiled a small, crooked smile at her. "Do you really want to spoil this dinner?" he asked.

She was gobsmacked; the tables had turned.

Fuck the dinner, she thought, she was ready to get right to the dessert.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" she retorted, her fingers releasing the cotton-covered flesh of his biceps.

He chuckled, running his hand in to the back of her hair. A little more deliberately he drew her face closer to his and pressed his lips hard against hers; there was no mistaking his own feelings, she reminded herself. The kiss was lingering against their slightly moistened mouths. She drew away after a second but Trevor went back a few times, a little series of them a taste of what was to come.

Olivia already felt the desire growing down south; the anticipation, his touch, his teasing, everything – it was a little hard to breathe, there was a stirring in her lower stomach that she had last felt back in the hotel in Chicago.

The feelings were affecting her ability to think straight; to function with a head clouded with headiness and intoxication. His fingers stroked the hair at the back of her nape as his eyes lingered over the goose bumps that surfaced on her skin from his touch alone.

He planted one last soft kiss upon her plump lips, letting his rest for a moment before pulling away, letting his large find their way across her collarbones, down her arms until he was holding her hands. "Still can't believe I'm dating Olivia Benson," he laughed inspite of himself.

Olivia laughed too, "don't be silly… I think of myself as very lucky that this big, giant man wants to spend time with me."

He sighed ineffectually, "I'm the one punching above my weight."

"Don't say that…" she replied seriously, "don't put me up on a pedestal, Trevor, I don't want to come crashing to the ground if I don't meet this huge expectation you have for me."

"Doubtful, but alright Benson, you win this one…" he replied, lacing his fingers through hers, lifting her hands up beside their bodies to guide hers on to his chest. "I can't stop looking at you, I don't want to be a creep but good god you're gorgeous…"

Her face reddened with embarrassment. She pulled away from him after shoving him away with a laugh. "Okay, okay… I need to use the bathroom."

She needed a few minutes to collect herself before dinner so that she could manage to get through the rest of the evening before bed without having a one track mind.

"Well…you remember where it is, right?" she'd used the bathroom almost a week earlier when she and Noah had stayed for dinner.

"Yep, got it… I'll be back…" she replied over her shoulder.

"I sure hope so," he chuckled to himself and turned back to the stove, trying to concentrate with his pants feeling as tight as they did. He sighed again hoping the night would continue to pan out as perfectly as he had hoped.