Nick almost launched into a sprint to catch up with her as she barreled towards the door. She was on a mission to flee the prying eyes and wagging tongues, which were no doubt still flapping, of the 1-6. She pushed open the door and breathed in the icy air, grateful to be under the scrutiny of only Nick's eyes. But her level of gratitude depended on the tone of their next conversation.

He walked out the door and turned to face her. He had an expectant look on his face that pushed her uneasy meter up another notch.

"Well?" he asked and crossed his arms.

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?

"Apparently I've forgotten how to read minds because I don't know what the hell you're talking about," she retorted and mirrored his stance.

"Uh, you could thank me for saving your ass back there after you lost your shit," he said as the heat crept into his voice.

"You have a selective memory, Nick. Yeah, you did get me out of a jam back there. Thanks for that. But need I remind you that you helped to create the fiasco?" she said glaring at him.

"So now you're blaming your lack of self-control on me? Typical. Why can't you just admit that the infamous Benson wall cracked under pressure?" he spat.

Her eyes widened, and he saw the flames of his own anger ignite in her orbs. But Nick decided to (foolishly) flirt with danger. He was feeling high and especially mighty after his smoke and mirrors act with the squad, so he continued to push her limits.

"How is it that you're such a badass in the interrogation room, but you can't face your personal life? I guess that's how you became senior detective so fast. It's a lot easier to log in hours at the job when you don't want to go home, right?"

And just like that, Nick's ego turned a potentially amicable truce into a full-on clusterfuck.

Her nostrils flared, and she felt her cheeks redden, "You're right, I am the senior detective, so you better check yourself, Amaro. You may be my partner, but I'm higher up on the food chain. Don't make me pull rank."

"So it's like that?"

Olivia didn't respond, instead she straightened her posture and lifted her chin. Her two-inch boots put her at near eye level with him. Her eyes narrowed and hardened, and he "heard" her response loud and clear.

Yeah, motherfucker. It's exactly like that. She handed him his balls without saying one word.

He forced down his anger and plotted his next move. His eyebrows knitted together as his brain moved with lightning speed sizing up every possibility.

But he only reached one conclusion: She was right. He gritted his teeth and accepted defeat.

He looked past her and saw unis and plain clothes cops surrounding the precinct perimeter. None of them were looking in their direction. And he intended to keep it that way.

Keep cool and let this go. For now.

Olivia could almost smell the smoke from the gears grinding in his head. She knew she'd won this round. But Nick craved victory just as much as she did, and she knew a rematch was in the works. One that was off NYPD turf and on neutral ground.

His composure was controlled, but she sensed the volcano simmering beneath the ice. After all, she had witnessed an eruption from "Mount St. Nicholas" less than 24 hours ago.

Nick usually struggled to conceal his feelings. Emotions poured out of him like water from the tap. But he also could switch off that faucet and turn on an iron self-control when needed. He turned to look at her and she saw a shadow of that self-confidence from the restaurant. That look he had flashed her right before he slipped under the table and….

Ugh! You picked this moment to think about getting off? Really? Pull yourself together. Tonight go home and rub one out, but now is not the time to lose your shit.

She shook her head to loosen the grip her hormones had on her mind. She ran her fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp, hoping to stimulate any part of her anatomy above her waist.

"Let's go across the street to the diner and grab some lunch, huh?" His neutral tone caught her off guard, but she accepted his peace offering.

"Only if you promise not to act like an ass."

He snorted, "I think I can manage not to piss you off for an hour. But Mr. Hyde's probably going to want to come back out after that."

She smiled a bit, but she was still wary of his sudden good behavior.

They walked into the diner and sat down in a small booth in the middle of the floor. She felt his stare and readied herself for one of his quips, but when she peered into his eyes, they weren't brimming with anger or snark. They were empathetic and attentive; the eyes that she loved.

But Olivia being Olivia was still on her guard. Was this a trick? Was he setting her up for another rouse, like the one he pulled on the squad?

"I'm not setting you up. Geez, paranoid much? Besides, if I were, do you think I would've suggested to talk in a public place?"

"How did you know-"

"When are you gonna realize that I know how your mind works? You think like a cop. You've been in SVU for 13 years. Paranoia isn't a handicap in this job—it's a requirement."

She stared at him and stilled her face to hide her body language.

"Now you're trying to keep me in the dark about the thoughts racing through your head. But it's too late, Liv—I already know your ticks. I see them even when you don't. You can't hide yourself from me anymore than I can hide who I am from you."

"No one likes a know-it-all, Nick. Arrogance isn't attractive."

"You're upset because I've figured you out?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"No, and you haven't figured me out. But you seem to think you have.

"I think we both know that I'm right."

"You're just proving my point, Nick."

"And that is?"

"That arrogance is unbecoming."

"So is denial."

"My…denial?"

He huffed as the irritation settled into his voice. "How long are we going to play this game?"

"Nick…"

"Liv…"

"Now isn't a good time."

"When is a good time to talk, Liv? Huh? Tomorrow? How about next week? Maybe we can coordinate our schedules and put it on the calendar?

She fidgeted in her chair. She was exhausted, partially because she missed lunch and partially from arguing with Nick. Most days, she would've had more than enough fight in her to put him in his place. But not today. Today, victory was his.

"You're right, let's talk this out."

"See, that's what—" He paused. Wait, did she just agree with him? This wasn't like her at all. Was he having a stroke?

Oh God, I think I smell toast.

He did, of course, because they were in a diner, and not because he was on the verge of needing medical attention. He grinned at his idiotic logic and breathed a sigh of relief. She stared at him, and his eyes skimmed her face. Her expression was nondescript, and her eyes, for once, gave him no insight to her mood, other than telling him that she was sleep-deprived. His eyes traveled further up her face until they reached her forehead. They rested on a spot near the center.

"I tell you I want to talk and you go mute?" Her voice was controlled, but the vein that suddenly lunged from her forehead told him how she really felt. He selected his next few words with care.

"No, I'm happy you want to talk. I was trying to get a jump on the conversation. Sound things out in my head, you know?

"You're trying to prepare for a spontaneous heart-to-heart?"

He snorted and looked at her, and she gave him a toothy smile. He slipped his left hand underneath hers and dragged his calloused thumb across her knuckles. He continued to rub them and stared at her hand as if he expected a genie to pop out of it. After a couple of minutes, he looked her in the eye.

"I miss this," he confessed.

"What, sitting in a diner?"

"You know SNL is just a subway ride away. I hear they're auditioning."

"Is that your way of telling me that it's time to be serious?" she teased.

He doesn't respond with his lips, but he lets his eyes do the talking. She can see the sincerity and anxiety overflowing within them.

"OK, I'm ready. No more jokes," she promised.

He nodded and increased his rubs. Sensing his nervousness, she stilled his hand with her free one.

"What happened to us?" he asked.

"I think you mean 'who,'" she stated solemnly.

His whole face scrunched up in confusion. She knew this was as good a time as any to bare her soul, and she began running her nails back-and-forth against his knuckles.

"I'm the reason we've been at each others throats over the past 24 hours," she admitted.

When he remained silent, she took that as her cue to continue.

"I freaked out in the restaurant. I felt we were moving too fast. I wanted to slow things down a bit; I wasn't trying to sabotage what we have, but when I get scared I run—and I don't look back."

"Do you have any regrets about what we did?"

"Yeah. I wish it lasted longer."

He flashes her a shit-eating grin, "I've been known to have that effect."

"Our booth is crowded enough. We don't have enough room at the table for your ego, too.

They both shared a laugh.

"Look, I get it. You're afraid we'll ruin our partnership if things don't work out between us, right?"

"It's more complicated than that," she declared and dropped her head to avoid his inevitable stare. He wasn't going to let her off the hook, and he gently lifted her chin with his index finger. She kept her eyes lowered, so he dipped his head as low as he could without smashing his chin against the table to make eye contact.

"So uncomplicate it," he demanded, and she remembered he used the same phrase during their stakeout. Only they weren't talking about Elliot this time. Her confession was far more tangled than her history with Stabler.

"I wasn't afraid of the possibility of things going downhill between us. I mean, I'm worried about that too, but…"

He massaged her knuckles and gave her a moment to collect herself.

She exhaled and felt her chest grow lighter. "I'm more afraid that things will work out. Walls are easy to build. And maintain. And rebuild again, if you're betrayed. Keeping people out has always been easy for me."

He nodded his head, "We all have our natural tendencies. But you and I both know that you haven't been living for years. You've been existing. And that hasn't been working out well for you, has it?"

She lowered her eyes again and shook her head.

"You don't have to be ashamed about that, Liv. We've all had periods where we've gone through the motions. I'm not asking you to demolish Fort Benson—just knock down enough bricks so I can get through, OK? I don't ever expect you to wear your heart on your sleeve. Part of your allure is your toughness. But I could do without some of your stubbornness."

"Said the pot to the kettle."

He scoffed, "You going to deny that's the main reason we butt heads?"

"No. Are you going to admit that it's a trait we both share?"