Chapter Text
When Olivia finally pulled up to their house in Brooklyn, she forced a smile as she brought the car to a full stop.
Through the passenger window, she spotted Bette and Tina sitting on the front steps. Bette’s shoulder rested lazily against Tina’s as she gazed up at the few stars brave enough to show themselves through the city haze. Shane stood in front of them, a cigarette balanced between her pointer finger and thumb, the ember bobbing as she talked with her hands.
Olivia climbed out of the car and trotted up the walk. She barely announced herself before she plucked the Marlboro Red from Shane’s fingers, brought it to her lips, and inhaled.
“Hello to you too,” Tina teased.
“You okay?” Bette asked, her voice slow and careful. Olivia clocked the empty wine glass at her feet.
She exhaled smoke and lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.
“How’d it go?” Shane reclaimed the cigarette. “The psych eval.”
Olivia’s gaze drifted past them—to the fence around Tim’s house, to the crescent moon hanging high above, pale and watchful.
Now, you requested to be assigned to SVU. Why don’t you tell me about that?
‘Has anybody in your family ever been the victim of a rape?’—I checked yes. I’m actually the child of a rape.
Her eyes came back to Shane’s. Another small, helpless shrug.
Bette caught her look and offered a gentle smile. “You want a drink?”
“Please.”
An hour had passed. Olivia was on her second beer, sprawled against Shane on the couch. Across from them, Bette and Tina leaned into one another, soft and effortless, whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears every so often.
Something in Olivia ached. A well-hidden part of her—the one that only surfaced when she was sad—a quiet place in her chest still yearned for love. Watching it sit so plainly in front of her, with just enough alcohol warming her veins, made her feel nauseous.
She sat up, decision settling into her bones, and turned to Shane.
“Cut my hair.”
Shane straightened with her, blinking, eyes wide.
Bette laughed. “Was it that bad?”
“She asked me what I’d do if I wasn’t a sex crimes detective,” Olivia said. “And you know, Bette… I didn’t have an answer.”
Tina opened her mouth to respond, but a knock sounded at the door. She pivoted mid-thought. “It’s open!”
Alice and Dana walked in carrying bags of Chinese takeout.
Olivia took another swig of her beer and lifted a small, lazy wave. “You know,” she said as she set the bottle on the coffee table, “one of these days you’re gonna regret leaving your door unlocked.”
Dana reached out, patting Olivia’s head as she passed, setting the bags down. “Officer’s got a point. At least don’t announce it.”
Bette shrugged. “Liv’ll protect us.”
A ripple of soft laughter followed. Then Olivia spoke again, repeating herself, “Cut my hair.”
Dana froze, eyes wide. Alice muttered something under her breath about “butch cops.” Olivia felt heat flood her face.
“You really want me to?” Shane asked quietly. Her fingers were already threading through Olivia’s hair—soft, familiar, skimming just above her shoulders.
“Yes,” Olivia said, breath leaving her in a slow sigh. “I need a change.”
Shane nodded.
Thirty minutes later, Olivia felt like a brand-new person. It was as if a weight had been lifted straight off her shoulders, falling away in dark handfuls that collected on the floor at her feet. When Shane finished and guided her toward the bathroom mirror, Olivia smiled at her reflection.
“Well?” She turned, leaning back against the sink, eyes fixed on Shane. “What do you think? You like it?”
“Hell yeah.” Shane grinned. Her hands lifted instinctively, fingers sliding back into Olivia’s hair, eyes narrowing as she fluffed and adjusted until she was satisfied. “I’m damn good at my job.”
Olivia flushed. “How much do I owe you?”
Shane’s hands dropped to Olivia’s hips, thumbs brushing the sliver of bare skin between her T-shirt and slacks. She tugged Olivia closer, hovering just above her lips. Olivia rolled her eyes fondly before closing the distance. She smiled into the brief press of mouths, then leaned back, leaving a soft kiss on Shane’s cheek.
“That all, huh?” she teased.
“Enough for me, officer.”
Olivia scoffed lightly and nudged Shane’s shoulder. “I’ve been a detective for almost two years now. Come on, McCutcheon.”
“Nah.” Shane shrugged. “You’re always gonna be ‘officer’ to me.”
Olivia nodded, warmth blooming in her eyes. “Hm.” She lingered a second longer before gently shoving Shane aside. “Thanks. You’re the best.”
As she headed back toward the living room, a teasing sway in her step, she heard Shane mutter a quiet, reverent, “Damn.”
Back in the living room, Bette was midway through a tangent about an old friend of hers who’d recently reached out—new to the city, apparently in need of a tour guide.
“So,” Bette said, turning toward her, “Liv, I was thinking I could send her your way.”
Olivia looked up from her lo mein, a noodle charmingly dangling from her lips. “Me?” she mumbled before slurping it the rest of the way in.
“You know the city better than any of us,” Dana chimed in.
Olivia groaned, slumping back slightly. “When, exactly, am I supposed to have time for this?”
“I mean, you don’t have to,” Bette started. “I just thought—”
“No, no,” Olivia cut in, waving a chopstick in surrender. “I’ll do it.”
Bette brightened instantly, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. “Pleasure doing business with you. I’ll write her number down.”
Olivia rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth tipped up just enough to give her away.