Work Text:
Amanda woke early the day after Frank Bucci had taken her on a trip Northward at gunpoint; she had gone to bed shortly after the girls, worn out by a night filled with terror and a day spent jumping at shadows. The apartment was quiet, and in the dim light coming through the curtains Amanda glanced over at Billie, still sleeping soundly in her crib, her arms splayed above her head. A quick glance at her phone told her it wasn’t quite 6am; Billie would wake soon, no doubt followed by Jesse, eager to celebrate the fourth birthday Amanda had been half convinced she’d miss.
The space beside her in the bed was empty, absent Frannie’s warmth and the rumble of her snores. Amanda reached over to turn on her bedside lamp and across the room saw her bedroom door ajar, no doubt nudged open as Frannie padded from the room in search of a human willing to ply her with treats after Amanda had drifted off to sleep. The open door didn’t fill her with the panic she might have experienced following the kidnapping; she knew Frank Bucci was in custody, and beyond that she knew that the only danger lurking in her living room was a risk of being coddled too much - Sonny Carisi had almost certainly ignored her insistence that he didn’t need to stay; she hadn’t really expected him to leave, and she hadn’t wanted him to either.
It was a comfort having him in the apartment, knowing he was in earshot, that he would have come running had she called to him. Amanda relaxed against the pillows, lingering in the bed a little longer until Billie began to stir, whimpering as she opened her eyes. Amanda lifted her from the crib gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before settling back against the headboard with Billie on her knee, “Good morning,” she said, her hand running over Billie’s hair. Billie leaned into her touch, her whimpers dying away at her mother’s presence.
Barely two minutes had passed before there was a gentle knock on the door; it opened before she could answer, Frannie slipping through the gap and revealing Sonny standing in the doorway, hand still raised to knock. He looked as dishevelled as she’d ever seen him; his hair ruffled, his suit pants crumpled, the undershirt he had slept in clung to his arms, “Uh, mornin’,” he said, his voice rough with sleep, “I heard Billie.”
“Hey,” Amanda smiled over at him, turning Billie to face Sonny, smiling at the gleeful expression on her daughter’s face, “Thanks,” she said, “For staying.”
“Anytime,” Sonny said, “Are you-”
“I will be,” Amanda said softly.
Sonny nodded, “Good, that’s… I’m glad,” he smiled reassuringly, “I’ll start on pancakes for the birthday girl, you want coffee?”
“Please,” she said gratefully, and as he slipped away and Amanda heard the sound of the coffee machine coming to life she wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like if this were her life - if she woke up to soft smiles and mugs of coffee, if her girls got pancakes on special occasions and gentle hands to soothe them to sleep, if Amanda had someone - him - at her side for early mornings and late nights, had arms around her to comfort her after a nightmare and to make her feel safe in the early hours, when darkness clung to the corners of the apartment and her mind calculated the distance from the bed to where her gun was locked away in the hall safe. As she carried Billie out into the kitchen, and Jesse scrambled down the hallway, a grin for each of them as she proudly declared, “I’m four!”, Amanda thought for a moment what it would be like for mornings to always be like this.
The morning after Kat’s boxing match Sonny woke up with the worst hangover he’d had in a long time and opened his eyes to find Jesse’s face inches from his, her head tilted to one side, as she whisper-yelled, “Wake up, Uncle Sonny!”
He bit back a groan as his head pounded, blood thrumming in his ears, the room tilting just a little as he sat up to make room for Jesse beside him on the couch. He dropped his head back against the cushions, fighting with his eyes’ insistence on staying closed. Glancing about himself snippets of the night before came trickling back to him - him and Amanda trying to match Kat drink for drink, feeling unsteady on his feet as they hailed a cab, his arm around Amanda’s waist to hold her upright, the way his heart rate had sped up as she’d dropped her head against his arm.
He’d come back here because he wanted to make sure Amanda got home okay, and he’d stayed because it had taken him a solid ten minutes to remove his shoes in his drunken state and the thought of putting them back on had required too much energy.
He remembered Amanda’s hand running through his hair as he lay down on the couch, a goodnight, Carisi, that had felt abrupt, the bereft feeling in his stomach after he heard her bedroom door click shut.
Jesse sat as close as humanly possible, her hand curling around his bicep, eyes wide and pleading, “Pancakes, Uncle Sonny?” she asked, and he was half a second away from assenting despite the way his stomach rolled at the thought when Amanda walked into the living room, Billie in her arms.
She was dressed for work, her hair damp from the shower that he assumed was the reason she didn’t look nearly as rough as he was sure he did, “You’ve got preschool, Jesse,” Amanda said, “There’s no time for pancakes this morning.”
“But Uncle Sonny-”
“Has to go to his own apartment and get changed before he’s late for work,” she said, a knowing smile in Sonny’s direction. He nodded as Jesse reluctantly pulled away from him, and he watched through his bleary eyes as Amanda put Billie in her high chair and poured out a bowl of cereal for Jesse; through his aching head and the groggy tiredness clinging to him he watched Amanda and the girls going through their morning routine, nursing a cup of coffee she’d handed him with a wry smile. It felt almost like a privilege to be there, to be a part of it, even as a silent viewer. He didn’t stay long enough to see the later parts of the routine, the combing of Billie’s hair, helping Jesse fumble through the buttons of her coat, last minute checks that no one had forgotten anything - Amanda was right, he did have to go home and get changed, swallow down some aspirin, and try to make himself presentable before he arrived at the DA’s office - he drained his coffee mug and said goodbye with kisses for Jesse and Billie and a long, almost hopeful, glance in Amanda’s direction.
It seemed like a lifetime ago that Amanda had last woken in her apartment knowing that Sonny was just out of her reach. On New Year’s Day she slipped from her bed at the blaring of her alarm less than four hours after she’d gotten home; the apartment was still quiet, filled with the sleepy air of an early holiday morning, but any plans Amanda had had for a lazy day had been swiftly dashed with last night’s Amber Alert, and so instead of lingering in her bedroom she walked out to the kitchen, her socked feet making little noise on the wooden floor.
She glanced towards the couch as she turned the coffee maker on, and smiled to herself at the sight of him - sprawled out on her couch, a blanket haphazardly thrown over himself. He’d hardly moved since she’d seen him last - just after 2am, snoring faintly with a pillow jammed under his head. He’d looked so peaceful when she’d crept into the apartment and the temptation to reach out to him had been hard to grapple with, especially when hours before she’d had that same blanket draped over her as she curled into his warmth, letting herself relax into him in a way she’d avoided for so long, the promise of midnight and a New Year giving her hope she might not otherwise have pinned her dreams on.
He opened his eyes a few seconds later and Amanda turned awake quickly to avoid being caught staring. She listened as he shuffled around, turning only when she sensed him standing up. She took him in - this sleep soft Dominick Carisi that she so rarely got to see - his hair askew, the way the fabric of his hoodie had shifted in his sleep, leaving just a sliver of skin on show above his hip, the hand he rubbed over his face as he gave her a smile, “Mornin’ Rollins,” he said, suppressing a yawn.
“Happy New Year,” Amanda said, smiling back at him.
He crossed the apartment to join her in the kitchen, standing close enough that she could feel his body heat. They talked in quiet tones; him letting her know he’d put Jesse into her own bed shortly after the ball dropped, her filling him in on last night’s case. Once the coffee had brewed he accepted a mug gratefully and leaned back against the counter, standing by her side while she sipped at her own drink.
They had a few moments to embrace the caffeine and the comfort of each other’s company before Billie began yelling from her crib; Amanda relished in the time they did have, in how natural and easy it was to be standing by his side, still in her pyjamas, both still half asleep. On Billie’s second yell of, “Morning Momma!” Sonny placed his mug down on the counter top, his hand gently brushing her wrist as he said, “I’ll get her, finish your drink.”
Amanda watched him go, closing her eyes for a brief moment and cementing the image in her memory - the way that Sonny fit so neatly into her morning, and when he returned with Billie in his arms, her head resting contently against his shoulder, she added that memory too - the way Sonny fit into her daughters’ mornings too.
When Sonny woke up the morning after Henry Mesner came at him with a pencil there was an ache in his neck and a deep tiredness clinging to him. It was early, the sun not yet streaming in through the curtains in Amanda’s living room, the faint hum of traffic outside the only soundtrack to his wake up. His ear throbbed and as he sat up he was thrown back into memories of the previous day - Mesner frantically charging towards him, of fighting to wrestle him away, his confusion and shock at the incident, the ringing in his ears and the blood against his fingers, the way Amanda was instantly at his side, her hands on his arm gentle and reassuring.
He reached for his ear, his fingers gently brushing over the bandages there. The doctor said it’d heal up before long, all the damage superficial. In the morning light it all felt a little foolish - the fuss over such a small injury, Amanda’s insistence that he come to her place, that he shouldn’t be alone. The way he’d put up only token resistance because he knew this was where he’d want to wake up, and the way he ignored the voice in his head that maybe there was someone else’s apartment he should probably be spending the night at.
He was brought out of his own thoughts by the gasped, “Uncle Sonny!” that came from Jesse as she sped across the room to join him, kneeling up beside him on the couch, her small fingers inching towards his ear until he took them gently in his own.
“Hey, good mornin’ Jesse.”
Jesse’s eyes were wide, “Uncle Sonny, you’re hurt,” she said.
“It’s just a scratch,” he said softly, curling an arm around her gently, warmed as she leaned in to hug him properly, “Mommy’s been takin’ care of me.”
After dodging and dancing around a handful of questions, Sonny ushered Jesse towards the kitchen - a quick glance at his watch letting him know he had enough time to override Amanda’s “no pancakes on a school day” rule - as he mixed the batter with Jesse’s eager assistance his hands were steadier than they’d been since Amanda first called him about Mesner showing up at the playground, and the throbbing in his ear was background noise to the butter sizzling in the pan and Jesse’s constant narration. He had a stack of pancakes piled up by the time Amanda joined them, Billie scrambling from her mother’s arms to Sonny’s at the sight of their breakfast.
“Carisi,” Amanda scolded half-heartedly, “You didn’t have to do this.”
Sonny made a noise of acknowledgement before returning his gaze to the pan, flipping another pancake with one hand while his other held Billie firmly to his hip.
“I wanted to,” he said, and he focused on breakfast, on Billie’s fingers creeping up the back of his neck and Jesse bouncing excitedly at his side, and not at all on the way Amanda looked in a hoodie he very much didn’t remember leaving there, and definitely not on how right mornings in the Rollins apartment still felt, how much this was the kind of life he wanted to wake up to every day.
Waking up to Sonny not only in her apartment but in her bed might just have been Amanda’s new favourite thing. The morning after what should have been Fin’s wedding, Amanda opened her eyes to the sight of Sonny Carisi sleeping next to her, and the weight of his arm across her back as he held onto her even in his sleep. She could hardly believe that it was real, even if she could still hear his voice whispering, “It seems like it is,” and see his eyes on hers filled with so much more than the heat of the moment.
She reached out to trace her fingers across his jawline, smiling as he blinked away, his gaze dropping to her immediately, the same dreamy look in his eyes that Amanda thought hers must hold. She pushed herself up a little, not dislodging his arm but giving her enough space to cup his cheek fully in her hand, “It’s tomorrow,” she whispered, and watched as the smile on his face spread until he was grinning widely up at her.
“It is,” he said, his voice thick with sleep, “And I’m still here.”
“So am I,” she answered, laughing because she was filled with so much joy she didn't know what to do with it. He shifted his hold on her, moving until she was lying back against the mattress, until he could hover over her and duck his head to press a kiss to her lips that Amanda didn’t ever want to end.
It had to, of course - because when she had let Sonny into her apartment in the early hours of the morning they had known they’d have a scant few hours before they’d both be back to work - no one could have accused them of having good timing - and they had sacrificed sleep to explore the parts of each other that had been just out of reach for so long, for her to feel his hands on her skin at last, for him to know what it was to have Amanda’s lips trailing across his collarbone, for them both to drown themselves in one another until they were breathless and overawed and clinging to each other like it might be their only chance.
The kiss ended far sooner than either of them would like, and before they could fully re-immerse themselves in one another, but as he reluctantly pulled away, slipping out of her bed, Amanda got to realise another long held dream - not just the waking up together, but getting ready together; coffee shared in the kitchen without any distance between them, his fingers grazing her hip as they leaned into each other; Sonny watching as she brushed her hair, leaning in to press a kiss to the back of her neck; walking out of her apartment together, fingers brushing in the elevator on their way down. He had to go home and change into a suit he hadn’t been wearing seven hours earlier, but it still felt like the beginning of a dream Amanda was happy to finally be living.
By the time summer had given way to fall and October had set in, all those imaginings Sonny had once had of life with Amanda, with her girls, had become his reality. It wasn’t his constant, but it was frequent; dinners in Amanda’s apartment followed by whispers in the dark, and waking up together in her bed. Not just the intense romantic fantasies their younger selves might have anticipated, but another kind of dream, where being interrupted mid-kiss didn’t take the shine off anything, not when it was by the tiny rat-tat-tat knock Billie had perfected in recent weeks, since her transition to a toddler bed had made springing into Momma’s bedroom unannounced much easier. Sonny pressed his lips to Amanda’s in one firm, final kiss before he rolled over and she called out to Billie to come in.
“Mornin’ Momma,” Billie sang as she scrambled across the room, her stuffed seal tucked under her arm. “Mornin’ Uncle Sonny,” she added, using her little hands to try and push herself onto the bed until Sonny relented and lifted her up.
“Breakfast?” Sonny asked as Billie threw herself into Amanda’s waiting arms.
His morning routine at the Rollins apartment was longer and more chaotic than in his own place, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Mornings there weren’t just coffee-breakfast-shower-shave, they were elbows in cereal and orange juice spilling over the table; they were hunting down lost shoes and checking his briefcase for stray toys - if he pulled out a troll doll or a toy car in front of Anya Avital again he thought she might stop pretending not to know that Sonny and Amanda were seeing each other - mornings there were shaving in a fogged up mirror while Amanda brushed her teeth beside him, and their eyes meeting in their reflections, a little thrill still going through him every time. And they were Amanda’s hands neatening his tie, never commenting on how it matched her shirt or her jacket, and they were buckling up shoes and zipping up coats; they were kisses goodbye all around, despite knowing he’d see Amanda in a few hours at most.
When he’d told Liv back in May, just days before his whole world changed, that he always thought he’d be married with kids by his age, this was the life he’d been imagining - this was the life he wanted from now until forever, even knowing the ways it would bend and change as the girls grew older, knowing that there would be hurdles and challenges and some sleep-deprivation along the way, knowing that there were still steps he and Amanda had yet to take - words they hadn’t said, moves they hadn’t made - that didn’t change anything, because when he went to bed at night he knew what kind of morning he wanted to wake up into, and he was so thankful for every one of those mornings so far, and the hundreds more he hoped were to come.