Slightly fluffy. Don't know how long this will be, but I couldn't resist :) Amanda's obvious admiration for Olivia is so adorable :D

Disclaimer: Believe me if SVU was mine, A/O and Rolivia would've been canon at some point.

Amanda darted her eyes to the desk diagonal from her and made an internal sigh. Like her own desk Olivia's files were at the height of her shoulders and by the looks of it, this will be a long, tedious night.

"Oh god," she groaned to herself, throwing her head back in exaggeration. "I honestly think this paperwork will be the death of me."

She noticed a small grin from her peripheral.

"Dodging bullets and approaching the most dangerous men in New York you're immune to, but the paperwork, that's your cryptonite?" The brunette ended with an arched brow.

She snapped her neck in place. "I'm glad we understand each other."

A full on smile blossomed on Olivia's face along with a shake of the head. Those were rare, Amanda mused. With their job and the bleak context of it, smiles were seldom at best they were afflicted bitterly to their perps. She could actually count how many times she'd witnessed that twinkle in those dusty browns, ivory teeth presenting itself in front of plump lips. And in those three, maybe four times, it's never been targeted for her.

She dipped her head shyly, praying that Olivia didn't catch a glimpse of the blush trapping her cheeks.

"I will admit, though," Amanda's eyes returned on the speaking detective "when you're on the field your mind is set on one thing: justice, the perp, the victim, investigating- however far we are in the case. But when you're here, sitting down, your mind wanders. And as ludicrous it may seem, my brain can formulate things I'm grateful my eyes cannot."

Amanda softly nodded, sad that she can actually agree and relate to that theory. There were nights when sleep was impossible, her thoughts relentless. Dozens of images displaced in her mind, many of the victims' cries of agony, some of the perps' smug expressions when they were found not guilty due to some technicality, and at other times clips and segments of the actual rapes itself. Even if the physical evidence of the child abuse was vague- in comparison to more horrific and violent cases- her mind seemed to inference the scene of the attack, even when a portion of her brain pleaded to eradicate that filth.

So yeah, she knew what Olivia was talking about.

"It also reminds how long I've been sitting in this god forsaken chair," she continued in a bit of a whine, rubbing the back of her neck.

Oh what she'd give to be those olive fingers, kneading and rubbing the tense muscles away.

Oh what she'd give to touch anything of Olivia's...

She blinked back to her paper work.

"God I'm starving."

"Want me to get you somethin'?" Amanda offered, almost too eagerly for her liking. Could you sound any more desperate.

Either Olivia didn't catch on or she ignored it. Either way, thank god.

"Oh no, thanks. I was saying...in general. Takeout basically keeps me alive but it's been awhile since I had a home-cooked meal."

She's grown accustomed to her soft voice. How it managed to hold strength and authority, despite the smoothness of it. That, along with her unwavering glare, had perps- and some colleagues though no one admitted it- shaking in their boots.

That's what she's used to. What she found utterly attractive.

Now her brown eyes lost that light, that spark that puckered whenever she argued with a perp. And even now, Amanda couldn't tear her eyes away. The vague expression on her face made her already-wide eyes almost doe-like. She didn't have to know Olivia that well to know that she came home to an empty apartment, her footsteps loud against the wooden floors, it's sole reminder of her lonesome.

Her words certainly meant more than she was letting on.

"I could do that for you..."

"I'm sorry?"

Apparently her thought wasn't exactly a thought, after all.

Oh god.

"Um...well."

Dear lord.

"You see..." She could feel the heat fogging her cheeks.

You idiot.

Olivia's expression of confusion looked almost inquisitive when she tilted her head to the side, examining the flustered blonde. "Detective I don't understand..."

The brunette's dark brow formed a tent over her eyes, face stilled from concern. She's no longer amused by Amanda's timidity.

And Olivia didn't need to worry. It was quite typical to have this internal response- throat heavy, hands clammy, heart fluttering- because of the veteran. It was something Amanda thought time could heal.

Well here she was nearly two years later, with her face beet red, anxiety blocking her throat, and her heart galloping within her chest.

But Olivia didn't need to know about her pathetic crush.

"Ya see," she chuckled, trying to lighten the attention on herself "I...you got me. I'm southern and I hold the stereotype of havin' the huge family and big dinners," she explained with a playful roll of the eyes and a sigh. "I've been in New York a couple of years now and I've yet to cook for anyone but myself. I'm kinda gettin' withdrawals over here."

God she's never made a smile so disingenuous to veil her anxiety and fear in her life. She's never needed to, really. Though her town in Atlanta wasn't exactly known for its sexual fluidity, she had no problem picking up a date. She wasn't cocky by no means, but she was anything but coy about what she wanted in a female- and that carried with her charm. She never thought of her words coming out without nothing but the flow of confidence. Or her arousal for a particular person to be exposed by external excitement. Initially that irritated her- that this mere woman can ruin her whole dating life of poise seduction in just two short years.

Well now she knew that Olivia Benson wasn't just any woman, and despite her pounding heart and hormonal responses because of her, that feeling was all the more thrilling.

That's why she ignored her mental mocking when she silently prayed Olivia would say yes.

And oh yes they were answered when Olivia responded with a light smirk and tilt of the head. "Well you're here, slowly dying from not being on the streets, dodging bullets and dangerous men. I can't get you out of this torture, but I can assist you with your odd, but thoughtful, need to feed others." Her smirk widened to a full on smile, apparently just as amused by her response as Amanda was.

"I'm glad I found an enabler for my unfortunate addictions," Amanda laughed lightly. "How's Saturday night sound, seven-thirty?"

"That's perfect."

Amanda couldn't hide that extra watt to her smile. "Great. I'll text you my address."

With a confirmatory nod they both slipped back into their hectic paperwork, too busy to say anything further. And even though she's typing a DD5 with a subject matter that was not pleasing to her stomach, she managed to keep her internal expression of glee into a small grin.

Because she's going to have a date with Olivia Benson.

Well not exactly a date, but she's going to make dinner for Olivia Benson on a set date.

That's good enough for her.

Her old self would've laughed bitterly at the nervousness that her body possessed. The food preparation was fine- she's letting the lasagna cool off in the oven, while the baked ziti and garlic bread were already done. It was the Rollins preparation, both emotionally and physically, but more importantly at this moment, physically.

It's seven o' clock and she had already showered and lotioned up, but she still hadn't decided on what she was going to wear. She had asked out Olivia on Monday night, and she kept throwing it off out of anxiousness, constantly saying 'I'll pick somethin' tomorrow' as the days went by. Now it's Saturday and her red comforter is nearly coated with slacks, dresses, and other fabrics.

"Fuck me," she mumbled, throwing her head back in just a black bra and panties.

Shouldn't this have been first? The easiest thing to decipher. Her flaring hormones were relatively in check. Relatively. She had trouble compartmentalizing when she was face to face with Olivia. The food was ready, her house was clean. It's just...the clothes.

Should she wear a dress? Though she did like to dress up it can come off very formal, and this was suppose to be a relaxed night with food and laughs. It's not a date, Rollins.

How about jeans? Denim can be for any occasion aside from extravagant parties but it felt...off. She wanted to look good, and though her body- a temple she took pride in keeping it at its best- didn't look bad in jeans, she stilled wanted something else to show her figure.

But just what?

She took a lazy glance toward her nightstand alarm then widened her eyes at the time.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she muttered, moving through her clothes. It's 7:30 and she's still in her underwear.

"Slacks and a blouse it is," she sighed throwing a toned leg in fitting black slacks she never wore to work. Her eyes seem to be glued to her alarm clock that she lost her footing when she tried to slide her other leg in. Unfortunately her reflexes didn't help her when the ball of her foot caught with the back of her jeans and she stumbled forward.

"Son of a bitch!" she groaned, hunching on her side, wincing at the throbbing pain on the side of her head.

Even though the pain was a shy away from unbearable, Rollins took a deep breath, properly but her other leg and stood up, zipping and buttoning up.

Instead of the initial blouse, she went for a white tank top and threw over a soft-pink cardigan. She finished the simple, yet semi-formal outfit with black flats and she bolted in the kitchen, forgetting that her lasagna was still in the oven.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she said with timidity as she opened the oven. But she released her inhaled breath in relief when she saw that her lasagna was done and did not overcook. "Oh, thank god!"

And just when she thought that she can relax and bask in her accomplishments in a sure-to-be delicious dinner, her heart dropped when there was a knock on the door.

She's here.

Yay first part of this...fluff thingy. Want more let me know in this little box down there, por favor :D