Amanda isn't in her truck for more than 2 minutes before she realises that driving home in her current frame of mind isn't such a great idea. Every traffic light she stops at, her mind wanders to the events of an hour previously, particularly the moment when Olivia placed her hand on hers, smiling at her with a level of genuine Amanda hadn't seen since she'd stepped foot in the squad room for the first time a year ago. As she remembers for the fifth time that evening, the same butterflies reappear and for the fifth time she misses the lights turning green, earning a honk from the cars behind her, impatient commuters desperate to escape the tireless metropolis for their comfortable suburb houses.
Unlike the people in the cars behind her, she doesn't have a family to return to, wariness of men and commitment to her job leading to a string of failed relationships and ultimately a small apartment in the midst of the city. She has pipeline dreams of settling down with children and a dog, but she struggles to picture the man she'll be sharing the fantasy with, the face she imagines always transforming into the one that often haunts her dreams. Occasionally, the face takes on a feminine appearance, but the thought unsettles her to the core, and she doesn't like to admit to herself that the face resembles that of Olivia's more often than not. She tells herself that it's just the consequence of years of admiration for her superior and nothing more, and the aftermath of her former boss destroying any trust she can build with a man.
Taking a right turn at the next set of lights, she reaches a slightly quieter part of the city, apartment blocks lining the skyline, bars and off-licenses scattering the streets and the incessant hum of the traffic making up the soundtrack of the patch of New York she calls her home. She pulls into the garage at the back of her building and practically runs out of her truck, only just remembering to lock it as she gets to the back entrance.
As soon as she steps into her apartment, her mind somewhat crashes. The realisation of the situation she has somehow got herself into hits her hard, the mere thought of spending the evening with Olivia and Olivia alone sets her head spinning in wild circles. The crowd is no comfort either; the extra bodies will only encourage physical closeness and judging by Amanda's reaction to Olivia's hand simply on hers, she doesn't want to imagine what any more might do to her. The more Amanda thinks about Olivia, the more panicked she gets, and then she starts panicking at her reaction to thinking about Olivia, and she lets out an anguished whimper as she tries to make sense of the muddle of thoughts she can't ignore.
She's just a woman crush, Amanda tells herself. She's someone I look up to and admire and it's natural to feel like this. She repeats it over and over, making it her mantra to help her survive the night, and wanders aimlessly around the living space before she notices the time and realises that she needs to get her skates on if she's going to be making it to the concert on time. She heads over to the fridge, intent on quelling some of her fear with an ice-cold beer, but remembers that she hasn't eaten since lunch, and that dinner is the more sensible, if a little more sobering option. Nothing in the fridge is appealing to her though, and the emerald bottles in the door are beckoning her, promising an easy escape from her thoughts. Giving in, she reaches for the nearest bottle, and then reluctantly pulls a tray of leftover lasagne from the previous evening, telling herself it is a compromise, and that without the alcohol blanket she would have no chance of making it out of her apartment.
With the lasagne cooking in the oven, Amanda plods over to the sofa with her beer, taking a large swig from it as she plops down onto it, hoping that some trashy reality TV will distract her from real-life like it usually does, but even first-class D-list celebrity drama is struggling to improve her mood. Accepting her current state with a sigh, she heaves herself off the sofa and heads to her room, deciding instead to at least pick something to wear, in the hope that maybe it will ground her and boost her confidence a little.
When she reaches her bed, she throws her coat on it, pulls her blush pink shirt over her head, and then removes her trousers and socks, until she's stood in front of her full-length mirror in only a black bra and lace panties. She can't help but admire her body for a moment, the intense runs and recently purchased small weights for yoga finally paying off, resulting in lean, toned abs and arms, and faint but distinct back muscles when she flexes her shoulders. Amanda hugs herself for a second, twisting around in the mirror to check if her panties give her enough definition, then chastises herself for thinking that Olivia might even look at her way, but it still doesn't stop her from deciding to change into something a little sexier. If fake confidence is what it will take to get her to the concert and through an evening with Olivia, then a boost to her self-confidence is a must, and skimpier underwear is a necessity.
She lets her hands slide down her sides, and her right hand drifts over her stomach and rests on the skin just above the trim of her panties. Immediately, the image of Olivia leaning over her desk fills her mind again, and Amanda's eyelids flutter shut, taking in a deep intake of breath as her hand wanders further down over the top of black lace. As she pictures Olivia touching her hand, her own continues downwards until it reaches the sharply throbbing bundle of nerves between her legs. The reaction that her body is producing to Amanda's imagination shocks her so much that she loses her balance, stumbling onto her bed on top of the clothes she discarded earlier.
Whatever that was, that was beyond a woman crush. But Amanda is so rooted in denial, so desperate not to admit that she has a real, proper crush on her sergeant, she forces those thoughts into boxes and shoves them to the back of her mind. Focusing on the task at hand, she walks over to her wardrobe and begins rummaging through her hangers, unsure of what exactly she's looking for but hoping something will catch her eye.
10 different tops later and Amanda is still none the wiser about what to wear that evening. Everything is either too sparkly, or too plain, or too low cut, or just uncomfortable and now she's hot and even more flustered than before. The oven timer ringing is a welcome distraction from the outfit dilemma, and she heads back into the kitchen, grabbing her beer from the coffee table on the way, not even bothering to throw on a t-shirt as she tries to cool down.
Laziness and lack of time take over as she takes out the lasagne from the oven, choosing to lean over the counter and eat it straight out of the tray, still wearing only her black underwear set and hair wildly tied back in a makeshift messy bun. She checks the kitchen clock and realises she needs to be out of the flat in the next 15 minutes, so she swallows the last of the lasagne, washes it down with the final few drops of beer, and pads back to her bedroom.
She spots it straight away; a navy silk shirt, with cut-out shoulders, drop short sleeves, and adjustable tie straps; loose and lightweight enough to withstand a sweaty concert, but modest enough to be appropriate around her boss. She slips it on, adjusting the straps to conceal her cleavage, but then loosens them slightly. A little hint won't do any harm, right?
A pair of black biker jeans, boots and a leather jacket later, and Amanda is almost ready to go. She pulls her hair tie out and runs her fingers through her tresses, hoping they look purposely tousled and not like she's just been dragged through a hedge backwards. She's not usually one for wearing a lot of makeup, but the alcohol is starting to make its way through her system and she can feel herself loosening up a bit, so she roots around in her makeup bag until she finds a jet-black kohl pencil and smudges a little on her waterline. Even this subtle change in her appearance surprises Amanda a bit; her already piercing blue eyes become even more vibrant, the eyeliner giving her a sultry look that is only enhanced by her dishevelled hair and prominent cheekbones.
She gives herself one final glance in the mirror, then picks up her phone, keys and wallet, grabs another beer from the fridge and leaves her apartment.
The evening is still mild, and although she has a half hour walk ahead of her, Amanda doesn't mind, taking in her surroundings and relishing in the life of the city as she heads downtown. Swigging the beer from the bottle as she winds her way through the city, she starts to feel a little bit rebellious, reckless even, and she has to remind herself to keep her guard up with Olivia.
Olivia. The thought of her fills Amanda with a warmth that perfectly counters the cool beer slipping down her throat, and the butterflies make their expected return, but this time she doesn't try and suppress the feeling, instead curious to allow it to overcome her. As long as she's not in close proximity to Olivia, she can handle these feelings; and she realises that her woman crush is actually just a crush, that it isn't just that she wants to be like Olivia, but perhaps even be with her. Obviously, nothing could or can ever happen, and Olivia can certainly never find out Amanda's true feelings, but maybe knowing and accepting the true nature of her attraction towards the brunette might actually help break the tension between her and Olivia. Or maybe it'll make it worse, she thinks, but that is a problem for Monday, sober Amanda.
She's outside the venue by 7:20 and finds to her relief that Olivia isn't there yet, allowing her time to finish her beer and gather her thoughts before she arrives. Leaning against a lamppost, she tries to put her guard up, but the beer is making her head swirl a little and she finds herself reluctant to hold back with Olivia, keen to develop the beginning of a friendship she had seen the roots of earlier.
When Olivia arrives at 7:28, she doesn't spot Amanda at first, and Amanda gets the chance to give her the once over. Her heart flutters a little as she takes in Olivia's wine-coloured top, plunging neckline making Amanda's seem modest in comparison, and the tight black jeans, hugging her curves in the best possible way, flaring out ever so slightly over her boots. Her hair is still loose from the hair tie pinging incident from the afternoon, but Amanda notices it has more of a curl to it and hopes Olivia will do her hair more like that in the future, appreciating the way it frames her face. Her face itself then glances up in Amanda's direction and catches her staring, and she smirks.
Amanda pushes herself off the lamppost and walks over to Olivia, the eyes now on her and feeling her cheeks flush with the attention.
"...Wow, Rollins. You scrub up well."
The comment catches Amanda off guard, expecting some sort of sarcastic comment from Olivia, and she lets out a little awkward laugh, unable to respond well to the compliment even though she knows she looks good tonight.
"Um, thank you. You look...great, too." Amanda mentally kicks herself as soon as the words are out of her mouth, completely stumped as to where the usually smooth, sassy Amanda has gone. Olivia just gives a knowing laugh, then motions towards the doors.
"Shall we?"
The room inside is beginning to fill up, so Olivia and Amanda head straight to the bar, both apparently very keen for some alcohol to lessen the awkwardness between them. Amanda elbows her way to the front of the queue, Olivia right beside her, and she hears her sigh when the bartender ignores them again and again.
"Well, I don't think we're ever going to get served here."
Amanda shoots her a sideways glance. "You're clearly not doing it right."
"Doing what right?" Olivia replies, brow furrowing in confusion. Amanda doesn't say anything, but she angles her body towards the bartender, then folds her arms on the bar and leans on them, showing a tantalising hint of cleavage. When the bartender passes them again, he looks up for the briefest of seconds, and Amanda flashes her best smile, eyes sparkling, inviting.
Sure enough, it works, and he leans in to take their order. Olivia is regarding Amanda with what appears to be an impressed look, and Amanda smiles to herself. After she orders her beer, she turns to Olivia, smile still lighting up her face. "What're you having?"
"Oh, um, I'll have a…" Her voice drifts off as she peers over the counter into the fridge, mind clearly somewhere other than her drink preference. "Smirnoff ice? Please."
"A Smirnoff ice? Really, Liv?" Amanda chuckles, rolling her eyes at the alcopop she hadn't touched since her teenage years. Olivia rolls her eyes back at her and turns so that she is leaning against the bar, taking a sip from the bottle.
"I should probably be careful with the amount I drink," Olivia replies, not quite meeting Amanda's eyes, whose response slips out of her mouth before she can stop it. "How come?"
There is a really long pause, in which Olivia turns to eye up Amanda, searching for something in her eyes, then finally turning away again, Amanda having no idea what she was looking for and whether she found it. Amanda's question was vague, and now she had half a dozen resting on the tip of her tongue. Why did Olivia need to be careful with how much she has to drink? Was she that worried about the effects of one drink? What was she afraid of happening?
"It's just one drink," she goes with, but it's worded less as a question and more of a statement. There is no reply from Olivia, just her lips turning up slightly in response, but it isn't a smile, just a way to signal that she's finished with talking about this particular topic. Amanda senses that the walls Olivia usually has permanently up, that have crumbled a little bit during the day, are now back at full height, and she sighs, the regret and frustration luckily inaudible over the sound of chatter.
The support band begin to play, and Amanda is grateful for this good timing following her bad attempt at conversation. She walks to the balcony overlooking the main floor, Olivia thankfully right behind her, and leans on it, gripping her beer tightly and trying to focus on the music playing.
A few moments later, a hand gently squeezes Amanda's shoulder and she jumps in surprise, even though she knows it's only Olivia. She feels her body being gently turned so she is face to face with Olivia, brown eyes staring softly into her own. Amanda tenses under Olivia's touch, heartbeat racing, throat dry and a shiver coursing down her spine. Maybe it's just the lights, but Amanda can swear that she sees Olivia's pupils dilate momentarily, and hear a shallow breath hitch in Olivia's throat.
"Hey, Amanda, I didn't mean to act weird earlier, I'm sorry, I–"
She doesn't manage to finish her sentence, because Amanda suddenly finds herself raising her hand to Olivia's face, and gently closing her parted lips with her fingertip.
"No, Liv, don't apologise, it was my fault for prying, I should have dropped it. I'm sorry."
Amanda leaves her finger on Olivia's lips for a moment longer, and then slowly pulls it away, unintentionally brushing the outside of her hand down her face in the process. Olivia seems paralysed; she's completely stock-still, eyes locked on Amanda, expression utterly unreadable. The realisation of what she's just done suddenly hits Amanda, and she turns away, a violent twist in her stomach threatening to send her dinner back into her throat. She manages to swallow back the urge to throw up, and turns her attention back towards the band on the stage, not even daring to see if Olivia is still staring at her.
They remain like this for the rest of the set, Amanda finishing her drink quickly but keeping hold of the bottle so she has something to channel her unease into. Out of the corner of her eye she's barely noticed Olivia move, and she wonders what is going through her mind, whether she feels discomfort at their current situation because of Amanda's actions. But Olivia hasn't moved away from Amanda, in fact she's moved a little closer to her, so that their arms are almost touching.
When the band finishes their set, Amanda immediately pushes away from the balcony, desperate for another drink and a second to pull herself together. She can feel herself slipping, and even though she knows more alcohol will only exacerbate the situation, she's more interested in Olivia loosening up further, now unsatisfied with the amount of physical contact they had earlier and craving more of it.
"Do you want another?" Amanda says, motioning to the bottle in Olivia's hand and meeting her eyes again for the first time since they last spoke.
"Sure, but I'll have whatever you're having."
Amanda is taken aback and frowns at Olivia, wondering if she heard her correctly. Her frown is met by a smile that reaches Olivia's eyes, and Amanda has a suspicion that she wasn't the only one to have a drink before turning up this evening. Nodding in conformation, she turns away from Olivia and starts navigating her way through the crowd of people who have gathered in the space behind them. Although the bar is busy, Amanda is small and manages to slip between people until she's at the front, poised and ready for the bartender to fall victim to her charm again. As she waits to catch his eye, her mind immediately wonders back to the woman awaiting her return at the balcony.
She's always admired and looked up to Olivia, but now she's allowed her subconscious to explore those feelings deeper, she's realised that she is slowly but surely falling in love with her. Amanda can't keep her mind off her, can't stop replaying the thought of her touch over and over in her head, can't stop wishing that their situation was different, that Olivia wasn't her superior and had requited feelings for Amanda. This is just the way things are though; Olivia is straight, emotionally unavailable, and civil towards her on good days; the bad days still litter their time together, Olivia turning cold towards her whenever they disagree on cases, or she feels that Amanda is handling situations poorly. Even though they usually manage to resolve their differences, Amanda's approach to cases usually just proving to be different to Olivia's, not wrong, there still seems to be an ocean between them, that will take so much more than tonight to even begin to cross.
Someone to her right suddenly elbows her as they move away and Amanda is jolted back to reality, which is being surrounded by increasingly loud men and the jarring soundcheck going on in the background. The barman walks past her and she hollers at him, luckily still able to work her magic when her mind is elsewhere. A minute later and she's elbowing her way back through the throng of people, a beer in each hand, apologising profusely for taking so long when she reaches Olivia.
Nothing much is said between the two as they wait for the main band, just small talk about Amanda's favourite beer that they're both drinking and mutual appreciation for the support band which Amanda makes a mental note to add to her spotify favourites playlist when she gets home. When the main band takes to the stage, there is a surge of people onto the main floor as everyone rushes to get a good spot for the show, and a couple try and fit into the gap between Amanda and the group of people to her left. She feels an arm suddenly wrapping around her body, pulling her out of the way of the newcomers and closer to Olivia, and she can't help but look up at the woman next to her gratefully, a tipsy smile splashed across her face and baby blue eyes glittering under the strobe lights. Olivia hugs Amanda into her body even more, and then turns to face the stage, keeping her arm wrapped around Amanda's waist as the music begins.
For the next hour, Amanda can barely concentrate on anything other than the arm securely enveloping her frame. Despite the constant pushing of the crowd behind her, the stench of spilt beer and the explosive set the band is performing, Olivia is taking over her senses, and all Amanda can think about is how good it feels to be held by Olivia; how right and natural it seems, how her warmth is still somehow a comfort in the stuffy, sweaty room, and how good Olivia smells; vanilla musk mingling with coffee and a little bit of beer. It's her new favourite smell, she decides, and Olivia's embrace is now her favourite place to be, and she doesn't want the music to ever stop.
It does eventually though, and Amanda is forced to come crashing down to the here and now, which is chaos and chatter as the crowd starts to disperse a little. Rather than get caught up in the madness, Olivia just holds Amanda tight, waiting until the pushing and yelling has died down and there's enough room to breathe again. She lets go of Amanda and instantly Amanda feels unsafe and uneasy, yearning to be up close into Olivia's jacket once again.
Olivia notices the lights begin to dim again, and clocks the large number of people still lingering on the floor. "Why are there still so many people in here?" she asks, frowning at Amanda. Her frown only deepens as pop music starts to fill the room and the people around her start to dance.
"This venue turns into a nightclub after concerts, it's pretty fun to dance around after for a bit when you aren't ready to go home," Amanda replies, looking expectantly at Olivia. Olivia isn't looking at her though, and instead seems to be looking for the way out.
"Oh, that's pretty cool, but I should probably head back home now, it's late, and-"
For the second time that night, Amanda cuts her off, but this time by placing a hand on Olivia's arm. Their eyes meet again, Olivia's questioning, Amanda's silently pleading for her to stay.
"Just one dance, Liv? Please?"
She can see Olivia arguing in her head, eyes clearly a little weary from the flashing lights of the concert, but her body is still turned in towards Amanda's, and now she doesn't look like she wants to leave at all, almost leaning in towards Amanda's touch and expression softening as she gazes back at Amanda.
Olivia finally gives in, to either Amanda's plea or her own desire. "Okay, fine, ONE drink. But it's my round this time."
Before Amanda can say anything else, Olivia is waltzing off to the bar, weaving in between people just like Amanda did and making her way towards the front. She slips in between two men and almost immediately catches the eye of the barman. Amanda watches her and notices the characteristic tilt of the head and the lean on the bar that she's all too familiar with, and then from her guesses the beam on Olivia's face as the barman stops and leans in to listen to her order. Two shot glasses are placed on the bar, and as the barman fills them up, Olivia turns around to wink at Amanda, who returns one with a laugh. She's taught Olivia well.
When Olivia returns with the drinks, two more beers also in the crook of her elbow, Amanda raises an eyebrow questioningly. "Really Liv? Are you trying to get me drunk?"
Olivia just laughs as she hands Amanda one of the shots, Amanda plucking a beer from her with her other hand. "I've tried your favourite drink, now you try one of mine."
They clink the shot glasses together, but just as Amanda goes to drink hers, someone knocks into the side of her, causing her to spill half of the shot across the floor. "Fucking dumbass," she mutters, finishing the rest of the shot. They both discard the glasses and head onto the dance floor, the lights dimming even further and the music seeming even louder than before.
For the next half an hour, they dance side by side, swigging their beers every now and then, but never taking their eyes off of each other. Amanda notices that Olivia has completely loosened up now, as their bodies brush up against each other more and more frequently. As they both finish their drinks, they automatically move closer to each other, until all that Amanda can hear, smell, see and feel is Olivia barely a foot in front of her.
Amanda's head suddenly starts to feel fuzzy, and not in a good way. She totals up the drink that she's had that night and frowns; she's got a high tolerance for alcohol, and even though she's mixed her drinks tonight, she knows one shot shouldn't have this effect on her. Even though Olivia has mixed much more than her, she shouldn't be this intoxicated either; Amanda has never seen her like this, not even after a whole bottle of wine at the last department Christmas party.
Before she can question this situation any further, there are hands snaking around her hips, and Olivia is pulling her so close into her body that their noses are almost touching, lips just centimetres apart, stomach on stomach and breath on each other's skin. Amanda finds herself wrapping her arms around Olivia's neck, as they sway to the music, completely oblivious to the world around them, lost in the music and whatever they're so drunk on.
And then Olivia is closing the gap between them, her lips brushing against Amanda's, Amanda's hands tangled in Olivia's hair, and Olivia, Olivia freaking Benson is kissing her.