Part 1: The Realization Hits

Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.

The middle of the night.

He hated the middle of the night.

It was the same damn thing, he'd shoot out of a seemingly sound sleep, a layer of cold sweat covering his body. He'd peel himself away from the leather couch, his bed for the last three months, and run into the bathroom, where he'd splash cool water on his face, knowing it wouldn't help. Then, he'd lay back down, stare at the cracks and chipping paint on the ceiling, and think too much about the one person who could make all of his problems go away.

Tonight was no different, his weary eyes focused on a brown water-spot in the corner of the ceiling. He shook his head and blinked, and then he reached for his phone. "Shit," he sputtered, seeing that it was too early to get up and get ready for work, and too late to bother going back to sleep. Not that he could. He sighed, dropping his phone back to the table, and he folded his arms under his head. He let his eyes close, mumbling something as his thoughts drifted back to her.

he let out a low, unhappy moan as her face crept into the empty space behind his eyelids. "Fuck, she's beautiful," he muttered, unable to control the smile forming on his face. He watched as his dream-girl ran through his mind, and just as he was about to make his vision a real fantasy, his phone chirped. His eyes shot open and his heart pounded. "Holy shit," he hissed, shaking off the sudden shock of being snapped out of his state of blissful torture.

He sat up and rolled the tension out of his neck as he grabbed his phone again, this time welcoming the disturbance. "Stabler," he grumbled, answering the call. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. No, uh, no, I'll go get her. Thanks." With a yawn, he hung up and then dialed a new number. He held the phone to his ear as he rose to his feet and padded as softly as he could into what used to be his bedroom. "Hey," he whispered with a smile. Her voice always made him smile. He grabbed a shirt off of a hanger as he said, "Sorry to wake you, but...oh, oh, uh, me either, actually." He licked his lips, regretting not calling sooner. He didn't have to be so alone if she was wide awake with him. "I didn't ask questions, I just got the address," he explained, pulling on a pair of jeans.

He heard her speak, and he laughed. God, he loved her sense of humor, even at four-in-the-morning. "Hang on a sec," he said fast, then shoved his phone into his mouth, holding it with pressed lips as he pulled his shirt on over his head. He ran his hands through his hair and turned to pull a pair of socks out of his drawer. He put the phone back against his ear and sighed. "You there? Good, good. Um...the blue one. You look...you look good in blue." He smiled again, and this time other parts of body showed their approval as well, waking up and standing at attention at the mere thought of her, on the other end of the call, naked. He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes as he wandered back into the living room.

He was hanging onto her every word as he sat on the arm of the sofa and pulled on his socks. "Why are you asking me? It's not like I...well, uh, no, I...I like it longer. Something about...well, I've always had this...I guess you could call it a fantasy..." he stopped when he heard her words, and he could almost picture the look on her face. His cock twitched at the thought and he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed back hard. He was Catholic man, he was married, and he was trying like Hell to respect both God and his wife, but he had to face the truth.

He walked in his socked feet over to a small table next to his front door. "You have, huh? Well, I learn something new about you every day, don't I?" he teased her, laughing at her midnight confession. He pulled a drawer open, grabbed a thick envelope, and said, "I'll be there in ten minutes. The way I drive? It's ten." He chuckled as he shoved himself into his sneakers, and as he opened a second drawer, he sighed. "I'll bring coffee, how's that?" He smiled softly, hanging up, and put the phone in his pocket. He hooked his gun and holster to his belt, clipped his badge beside it, and ran a hand down his face as he made a very conscious, though sleep-deprived, decision.

He grabbed his jacket off of the hook and walked out of his house, locking the door behind him. He jogged down the steps, pulling his coat on, and whistled a melody he wasn't even sure he knew as he unlocked his car. He realized, and he rolled his eyes. "Fucking happy about going to work at four-in-the-fucking-morning," he chided himself. He jammed the key into the ignition and turned, backing out of his driveway.

He cursed under his breath when he realized he left without saying goodbye to his wife, but he knew it didn't matter. It was no longer part of his routine, and he didn't deem it important enough. He turned left, spinning the wheel in his hands and the ones in his head. He didn't know how it happened, or when, but he knew why. He had a long list of reasons he had fallen in love with his partner, and he finally had the resolve and self-awareness to admit it.

He slowed the car, and then as it came to a stop, he rolled down the window. "Yeah," he responded to the static-filled voice who asked if he needed help. "I need two venti mocha lattes, extra hot, extra shots, no foam, one with whipped cream, one without, and use the liquid sweetener please?" He fished a crumpled twenty dollar bill out of his pocket as he let the car drift to the window. He coughed and scratched at his chin has he handed the barista the money. Waiting for his change and his coffee, he wondered how he would tell her. Would he slip it in with his morning greeting? Would he drop the bomb on her when they got back to the station? Or, and this was his first choice, would he drive her home, pick up a late dinner somewhere, and look into her eyes as he said it, so he could see the look in her eyes.

On second thought, maybe he wouldn't go with that one. It would kill him if that look on her face wasn't a happy one.

He took the hot cups from the young kid and nodded his thanks, letting his foot off the break just a bit as he placed the coffees in the cup-holders. He took a breath, letting it out hard as he relaxed his shoulders and tried to get comfortable in his driver's seat. He nodded once at himself, as if giving himself a seal of approval, and he drove out onto the road again, heading over the bridge to Manhattan, heading to his safe haven.

Olivia.

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Peace and Love

Jo

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