Author's note: Hey everyone! Thank you for the love and support of this story. Today is Tuesday, for Taco Tuesday! I hope you enjoy this one, and leave me your thoughts!
Andy arrives at the address Olivia texted her five minutes before the designated time. She drops the heavy grocery shopping bags, filled with every single item Dean put on her list, on the floor by the glass door, and takes a deep breath, trying to calm her loose nerves.
At least she got a good amount of sleep the previous night, she tries to comfort herself, not knowing how things could have gone down if she was also exhausted, on top of everything else.
She takes a deep breath, straightening the invisible lines in her shirt, as she presses the bell, hearing it chime on the other side of the door, letting the father and the daughter know of her arrival.
He looks different when he opens the door.
She never saw him wearing anything but his uniform or his turnout gear, as he is the one to be the first to arrive every morning, and the last to leave the following day, and it feels a little bit awkward, seeing him casually dressed in an environment that is so different from the station. He wears a pair of loose fitted light wash jeans, a casual blue button up shirt, and he seems nothing like the stern and serious captain she met in her place of work just earlier today.
He looks like a guy she would have probably gone on a date with, maybe to a lunch or even just over coffee, she thinks to herself, but then she shakes that thought away as fast as it appeared.
"Hey." Andy greets quietly, unsure what else she could have said. It isn't like she shows up at his front step every Friday to watch the football game and drink some beer.
"You came." He gives her a once over, sounding a little bit surprised.
"Well, of course I came. I will never say no to a meal your daughter cooks." She jokes, and she can see his eyes glistening with pride of his child.
"She is quite the chef, isn't she?" He smiles again, one of those rare smiles Andy can see on his face only when the conversation regards his daughter. "God knows where she got it from. Definitely not from me." He looks down at the floor, avoiding eye contact, and Andy thinks he is as embarrassed as she is by the situation neither of them wanted to be in, but they found themselves in the middle of, regardless of their reluctance.
"Come in." He invites, finally coming to the understanding that they are having a conversation outside of the house. Andy lowers herself to pick up the branded bags she left on the ground and carry them inside with her. "Let me help you with that." Sullivan coaxes, taking the bags out of her grasp.
When his fingers brush the soft skin at the back of her hand, she feels a little electric current in the point where they touch.
"Captain, with all do respect, I carry hoses and equipment half my own weight when we are at work. I think I can manage a few bags." She tries to convince him, but he would hear none of it.
"But we are not at work right now, are we?" He asks as he makes his way into the kitchen, dropping the heavy bags on the counter. "My house, my rules, Herrera. And my rules say that guests don't carry heavy items from place to place."
Andy enters the house and closes the door behind her with a soft knock. She takes a good look around the living room area, trying to absorb in as much details as she possibly can. Trying to get a sense of what kind of family they form, other than the tough father and the quick witted teenager reputation they have earned themselves around the station.
Trying to get a sense of who he is. Trying to figure out if the harsh and uncompromising captain is all that there is to him, or if by digging a little bit under the surface, she might find another person hiding, waiting for someone to notice.
The house is decorated to a minimalistic perfection, and it is hard for Andy to fathom a sixteen years old living in a house like this. To be honest, she is having trouble believing anyone lives in a house like this, tidy and neat to a fault, everything looks exactly in the right place.
She thinks that maybe it is that way because they knew they are going to have company over for dinner, maybe this house is more alive in their day to day routine, with items thrown around and little notes decorating the fridge.
She has a hard time believing so, though.
The only decoration in the living room are photos, many of them, as if this house also functions as a memorial site.
Andy guesses that it does. On some level, anyway.
There is a beautiful woman looking at her from the photos that has an older look to them, some already turning yellow around the edges. She can't be older than Andy is right now, and it takes her no time at all to realize she is no other than Claire herself, either from the way she holds her captain tightly in almost every one of those pictures, or from the way Liv is a spitting image of this woman, she isn't sure.
There is one in particular that catches Andy's eyes. Claire is wearing a long, white wedding gown, and her captain is wearing a black, formal three piece suit. They look into each other's eyes instead of straight into the camera, and they seem so in love it twists something inside of Andy's guts.
The pictures change as Andy's gaze moves down the little family's memory lane. The photos look newer, shinier, the quality better. They are always pictures of Olivia, in different ages, wearing different clothes and different hairstyles, and Andy can't help but laugh at some of them, the ones in which she seems a total mess, even though there is nothing funny about a daughter not having her mother around to guide her through little, mundane things in life, like the fact that you can't wear a floral shirt and a striped bottoms together, or how to do your hair.
She learnt it in her own flesh.
Sullivan is rarely photographed in the later pictures, maybe because he was the man behind the camera, or maybe because he just didn't feel like being the center of attention, Andy can't tell. But in the rare cases his form does appear, he looks sadder, his smile doesn't reach as wide across his face like in the picture where he holds his late wife. And in all these photos, there is an open space on one side of Olivia, a painful reminder of another parent that was supposed to be a part of all those memories, but was taken away too soon.
"Livia, did you tell our guest to bring things over?" She can hear Sullivan asking his daughter, the sound of his voice bringing her back from her own thoughts, and she realizes that her little idea of an ice breaker might have put Liv in trouble.
"No, she didn't." Andy comes to her rescue, stepping quickly into the kitchen. "It was all my idea, actually. I figured that if Liv goes through all the trouble of making the food, I can at least make the drinks. Besides, Mexican food just requires margaritas to wash it all down." Sullivan gives her one of his intimidating looks, reminding her that his daughter is not old enough to have an alcoholic beverage yet, even if she does act like an adult more often than not. "Non alcoholic margaritas, of course." Andy adds.
The kitchen smells amazing, the scent of vegetables and meat filling the air, making her tummy growl in protest, letting her know she is indeed hungry. Andy reaches for the bowl of chips on the counter, dips one in the guacamole she sees right beside it and shoves it ungracefully in her mouth.
"You are going to ruin your appetite." Liv scolds. She can't possibly see Andy stealing food from right beneath her, not when her entire attention is dedicated to the stove, but she can certainly hear the loud sounds of her chewing.
When Sullivan does exactly the same as she did, stealing a chip under his daughter's supervising eye and putting it in his mouth in one, big bite, Andy can't help but smile at him.
Maybe there is indeed more to him than what she can see on the surface.
"So I have orange juice, limes, agave syrup, and Miller's top secret recipe, for which I have to do his laundry for an entire week." Andy can hear Liv laughing at her last comment. "All I need is some ice, salt and I hope you have a blender."
"Oh no." Liv makes a comment, and when Andy looks at her she buries her head deep into the pan she fries the tortillas in, making a hard taco shell.
"Of course I have a blender, how else am I supposed to make my smoothies?" Sullivan asks, looking dead serious.
"Well, I didn't know you make smoothies." Andy pulls her shoulders. It looks like the father and the daughter are communicating in some language she can't understand, sharing a private joke she is obviously not a part of.
"Please don't get him started." Olivia breaths.
"Well, I take my smoothies very seriously. I call it a hobby." Robert says proudly, puffing his chest out.
"Making smoothies is not a valid hobby." Andy calls, feeling bold. It isn't if he can put her on desk duty the entire length of the next shift just because of something she said when they were off duty, but he can sure as hell send one of his death glares her way, which makes Andy flinch, but she can see him smile at the same time and knows her little comment didn't bother him that much.
Andy pushes another nacho covered in the avocado goodness into her mouth as she hears the sixteen years old vent. "His blenders are like his babies, Andy. Sometimes I think he loves them more than he loves me. He will be willing to give me away before he lets anyone else but him use his precious blenders. I don't even get to use them."
Andy chokes on the food she chews as she hears Liv's comment, trying to hold down her laughter.
She has a feeling this night is going to be full of surprises.
"Well, maybe, Livia, I will make an exception. Just for tonight."
"In that case, I propose a competition. You know, making it a little bit more interesting." Andy suggests.
"Why do you have to make everything a contest, Andy?" Olivia asks as she fishes the last taco shell out of the hot oil.
"What are we competing over, Herrera?" Her captain inquires, suddenly seems intrigued by her ideas. Apparently she is not the only competitive person in the room.
"We each make our own margaritas, and we will both have access to Dean's recipe, of course. Liv can be the judge, and whoever makes the least tasty cocktail, will have to do Miller's laundry for a week."
"Nice try, Herrera." He refuses, shaking his head. She knew it was a longshot, but she had to try nonetheless.
"Fine." Andy breaths. "So what will the winner get?"
"I have an idea." Liv starts, walking towards the fridge and pulling out all the bowls of food she made during the afternoon. As Andy gives everything a once over, she can't possibly understand why the girl made so much food for a meal that consists of exactly three people. "The winner will get to choose what we are going to do the next time Andy comes over."
The next time she comes over? When did she agree to that?
But looking at the girl, who pushes her elbow into her fathers rib, trying to convince him to agree to her terms, and watching her captain holding the spot, pretending to be in pain, she have a warm feeling in her chest, saying that she will probably find herself on their doorstep once again sooner rather than later.
And as she watches them, watches their banter and their inside jokes, Andy can see herself falling easily into it, too, being a friend of the both of them, and not only of the daughter.
"Agreed." Andy calls, as Sullivan nods in her direction, giving his approval to the condition.
"So let's go, and may the best bartender win." Liv gives them the signal to start making the drinks, narrating the situation as if she was some kind of a TV show host.
"That kid of yours." Andy whispers to Sullivan as he brings out the blenders, one to each, places them on the kitchen aisle and plugs them in.
"I know." He nods at her direction, as she spreads out the ingredients in front of them and opens the very detailed instruction Miller gave her earlier that day on her phone, placing it on a spot the both of them can see easily.
Andy places the both of her hands on the cool surface, watching Liv going through the kitchen like a storm, setting the table and getting the last items warm and ready. "Wait, we forgot the most important ingredients." He calls, placing a soft hand on her shoulder, an act of kindness he puts no importance too, but makes Andy shiver.
"I am pretty sure we have everything." Andy scans with her eyes through everything spread in front of her. Orange juice, limes, agave syrup, ice trays, salt and glasses. She can see him going through the top shelf in a cabinet, one she would have to stand on a stool to reach, but he doesn't even have to make an effort to get to.
When he comes back, his eyes sparkle, and he has a mischievous smirk on his face, like a kid getting caught doing something he knows he shouldn't, yet still has no regrets. He places the bottles of tequila and triple sec on the floor, away from his daughter's eye.
"I thought we said we are going to make them virgin." Andy looks down at the bottles of liquor between his feet.
"Well, Livia's one will be virgin. We, on the other hand, are adults." He whispers.
"How is this going to work?" Andy asks, still having a hard time understanding his plan fully.
"Well, you are going to make the virgin version, and mine will be the alcoholic one, and we will just give her two glasses from the same drink to judge." He pulls his shoulders.
"What kind of competition will that be?"
"The kind where we get to enjoy some twenty one and over beverages." Sullivan looks deep into her eyes, and she feels that electric current in the back of her neck again. "Come on, Herrera. I know you, I know you enjoy breaking the rules from time to time." He coaxes.
"Fine." The lieutenant breaths out.
"What are the two of you whispering about over there, and why don't I hear the sound of the blender going? Dinner will be ready in five minutes, and I know none of you wants to eat cold food." The girl yells.
"Nothing." The both of them say back in unison. They can't see it, not when her back is facing them as she sets the table, but there is a big smile on Olivia's face.
They both get to the job of making their drinks, following Dean's orders obediently. When Sullivan is completely sure his daughter isn't watching, totally engaged is some other matter, he pours the liquors straight into his blender, not measuring them or giving it a second thought.
"This is way too much!" Andy tries to protest, but he just chuckles at her concerns.
It takes them a few more minutes until their drinks are ready and they sit next to the table.
"The food looks amazing." Andy compliments.
"Thank you." The daughter sits up in her chair a little higher. "The drinks look very good, too. Now for the judgment."
Olivia makes a complete show out of the little competition they made up not too long ago, smelling the drinks and taking a few sips from each glass, as if she is some kind of wine expert of sorts. Her exaggerated facial expression makes Andy laugh so hard her tummy hurts.
If this kid didn't dream about becoming a firefighter, she could have had a bright future as an actress.
"Come on, Livia, make a decision already, you are not a judge in Master Chef yet." Her father rushes her. "You have two hungry adults in here, and you don't want to see what happens when they become hangry."
"He is right." Andy agrees, just before her stomach starts to make noises once again, an act of support to what she just stated.
"Ok, Andy, heard the message loud and clear." Livia looks down, as if she is talking to Andy's stomach, and it makes the three of them roll in laughter again.
It feels comfortable, and easy, and Andy didn't even have to drink from the margarita with the extra kick to have a warm sensation spread in her body.
"This one." Olivia points down to one of the glasses.
"Well, this is Andy's. So I guess she is the winner." Sullivan barges in before she has a chance to say anything. They share a knowing look, and she can't help but think that as far as someone who claims to be competitive goes, he was very willing to let her have this win.
They load their plates, and as she is about to take the first sip from her drink, he looks her deep in the eye and says "Cheers."
"Cheers." She answers, and clicks their glasses together.
"I am full." Andy calls as she shoves the last bite of her overstuffed taco into her mouth, leaning back into her seat.
She is also tipsy, but she won't say it in front of Olivia.
The margaritas Sullivan made were strong, as one could have expected them to be, but when he suggested refilling her empty glass, she didn't object to the idea.
Another drink later, counting up to a total of three, she is not drunk, doesn't think so, anyway, but she is definitely lightheaded, and she smiles way more often than she does on a normal day.
"Thank you, Livia." He says, and places a kiss on his daughter's cheek, which makes his daughter move away from him in disgust.
"Ew dad!" Liv calls, making a sour face, which leads to Andy giggling again. "How old do you think I am, six?"
Robert shrugs, and Andy guesses she is not the only one who is a little bit tipsy at the moment. Olivia gets up from the table, now that they have all finished their meal and feel more than sated. She starts to clear the dishes out of the table and pile them up next to the sink, but her father rises from his chair quickly, and grabs her by the wrist.
"What do you think you are doing?" He asks her, and there he is again, the harsh father and captain. It is like he has two different personalities, and Andy has a hard time following which one he uses when there is that much alcohol streaming through her blood.
"Clearing the table and getting started on the dishes before we have dessert." The daughter answers, unfazed by her father's change of façade.
Maybe when you have been around him for as long as Olivia has, her entire life, you learn to live with both men. The uncompromising captain, and the man who tricked his daughter into thinking she drinks from two different pitchers, so they will be able to have their adult specialty beverage.
"I had to let Herrera know of my rules, but you lived here every single day of your life. You know that whoever does the cooking, doesn't do the dishes as well." He scolds. "And besides, you invited company over to dinner, but you spent no time with her at all."
Olivia won't let him know, but the idea behind the invitation wasn't to let herself spend more time with Andy. They have plenty of time in the days she shows up at the station.
Her goal was to let Andy see her father in a different light, and by the way the younger firefighter looks at him, her eyes sparkling, it is safe for her to say she accomplished the goal of her mission.
"I think it is safe to say that none of us can eat another bite at the moment." Her father calls, as Andy and Olivia both nod in agreement. "So let me take care of the dishes, and you two can go and do whatever it is you want to do until we all feel ready to have something sweet."
"I will help you with the dishes." Andy suggests. "That is the least I can do."
"Don't even try." The teenager mumbles, knowing Andy is about to engage in a fight doomed to be lost.
"You are a guest, Herrera. I don't make a habit of letting the guests help me with the house chores." Sullivan states, the tone he uses is final, much like the one he uses on calls when he gives her an order she is reluctant to follow.
She doesn't answer, just picks her plates up along with some of the empty bowls, and places them near the sink where Liv placed some of the dirty dishes earlier.
"You know, I am starting to understand why the two of you get along so well. You both can be so stubborn and headstrong sometimes, it can make a grown man go crazy." He starts to run the water in the sink and scrub the plates Andy placed next to him, signaling to her silently that he is on board with the idea of her giving a hand, even though he is not happy about it.
"Well, I am just going to pour myself another one of those margaritas, and I will be out of your way." Liv lets them know, as she picks up one of the pitchers.
"No!" The two adults shout in unison, and Liv gives them a confused look, as if the two of them have gone completely mental.
"You just said you liked my version better." Andy takes the pitcher that contains more tequila than everything else out of Liv's hand and places it back on the table, grabbing the children friendly one instead. "Let me pour you some of mine." Andy takes the empty glass out of her hand and fills it to the rim.
Olivia sends another judging look at the direction of Andy and her father, and then disappears into the living room. Andy can hear the girl landing into the sofa, and then the very unique sounds of 'Keeping Up With The Kardashians' coming from the television.
"That was a close one." Andy breathes out as she places the last batch of dirty dishes inside the sink.
"Nice save."
"Thank you. You wash, I dry?" She suggests a game plan.
"Sure." He agrees. They do the dishes together quietly, and Andy is amazed by how comfortable the silence is, not awkward by any means, so neither of them feels the need to fill the void.
They find their rhythm in no time at all, but Andy can still feel the effect of the liquor on her reflexes, as he passes her one of the plates, she is not quick enough, and the glass dish slips and shatters all over the floor.
"I am so, so sorry." Andy apologizes, bending down and tries to pick up the pieces.
"Hey, Herrera, don't think about it. It is just a plate, we have a surprising amount of them, considering the fact we are just two people eating meals regularly in this house." He lowers himself down too, and then takes her palm in his, checking to see if some glass shreds made their way into her skin. "But please don't try to pick this up with your bare hands. Let me get a broom or something." Sullivan stands up, and Andy follows quickly, being careful not to trip over the mess of broken glass.
"You know, maybe, if I intend to spend quite some of my free time over here, you can call me Andy." It might be the alcohol, but she feels bold.
She feels like she wants to open up to him. She wants him to open up to her.
"Only if you call me Robert outside of the station, too."
"Okay, Robert." She calls him by his first name, biting her lower lip.
"Okay, Andy." He smiles, looking deep into her eyes.