Work Text:
When the stomach virus ripped through their household over the course of 48 hours, Sonny officially declared the search for a new apartment was beginning.
It was a small space for four people to be sick in, Amanda agreed, and Sonny had a low tolerance for germs. His stamina had improved over the years as he became more and more accustomed to existing with two young children, but he had also developed the differential diagnosis skills of an over-eager third-year medical student. Any ailment anyone had, he was grilling them about their symptoms, slotting each one into a mental category: ’contagious,’ ‘not contagious’ or, finally, ‘I don’t know, can we please just call the real doctor?’ So of course, he was the one that insisted Jesse’s color looked ‘off’ after dinner the night when she only ate half her food because she ‘wasn’t that hungry.’ Amanda dismissed it entirely, even after he recounted every detail of the absolutely heinous article he had read about norovirus - all while she had her spoon plunged into a carton of Haagen-Dazs - but sadly, Sonny’s hunch had been correct. Jesse was violently sick in the night, which was bad enough, but what made it worse was that Billie followed suit just two hours later. Even though there was an adult for each child, the girls’ small bedroom and a single, smaller bathroom wasn’t built to contain so much activity. It was all so miserable that it became comical and at one point Amanda and Sonny just looked at one another, each of them exhausted and holding a whimpering kid covered in puke – and broke into laughter. Amanda was certain she had never loved Sonny more than she did right in that very moment.
Of course, they had originally planned for a rental – it was New York City, after all. Then one Sunday afternoon, after walking away from yet another lackluster apartment, they had stumbled upon 127 West 97th St with an available unit: a 3-bedroom, 2-bath in a pre-war co-op. The hardwood detailing and high ceilings of the wide-open layout made the place look like a mansion compared to their current place. Much of it had recently been repainted the warmest color cream, and the accent down lighting had the stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops gleaming. There was a space for a real kitchen table – and it didn’t need to be crammed like an afterthought against a wall. The original built-in bookshelves remained in the hallway and living area, the doorways were arched, and the windows were big (although desperately needed cleaning). Some of its age was showing: a white latticed radiator cabinet sat in the corner of each bedroom, and a few of the walls there were screaming for some color – but the master had its own bathroom and a closet Amanda was certain she could cram a small family into and the girls could each have their own space, space enough to grow.
Amanda didn’t know anything about purchasing property, but that didn’t stop her from whipping out her phone so she could call up the building manager to figure out how they could make that apartment their own. In her head she was already arranging books on shelves, linens on beds and shoes in closets. Of course, Sonny had tempered her impulsivity with reason, mentioning brokers and agents and, more importantly - money.
Sonny was a consummate saver since he had been old enough to work; Amanda was the opposite. She was no longer blatantly reckless with money – not since quitting gambling and having children – but it would always be Sonny that budgeted, not her. Financially, life was different now: they lived in an expensive city, but they combined their incomes. They both had savings, Amanda had dutifully squirreled away (almost) all the vacation time pay-out she received after leaving NYPD, and though their wedding celebration had been small, they’d received a handful of monetary gifts neither of them had anticipated. Reviewing all these numbers was, at times, agonizing. They even got into a petty argument in front of the mortgage lender when Sonny made a quip about her credit card and she took it as an opportunity to remind him that he drove a brand-new SUV while she was still in her decrepit Jeep and somehow, that disparity justified her spending. They both came off looking like assholes. Thankfully, assholes were still approved for mortgages.
The interview with the co-op board was more menacing than any IAB interrogation Amanda had ever faced. It came only after they demanded every detail of she and Sonny’s professional and financial lives (Amanda was actively perspiring when she handed over five years’ worth of tax returns). Their broker had prepared them for their sit-down with the board members, but the moment she was seated in the building’s conference space, Amanda forgot everything they were told. Sensing her panic, Sonny took her hand and held on to it for the rest of the interview. At the end, it was hard to tell if it went well or not, but they went to a celebratory dinner anyway.
The answer came in the middle of a work day. Amanda saw her phone buzzing repeatedly during her lecture: one call from their broker, three from Sonny. Then a few text messages from Sonny. She ignored them all, but the moment the last student had left the classroom, she snatched up the device and called her husband first, skipping right past the message in favor of hearing his voice. He picked up after the first ring to tell her, breathless with his own excitement, that the co-op board loved them and the only thing left was to sign on the dotted line – many, many more times.
Amanda had asked if they could have a look around prior to the closing, so they could take some measurements for furniture and think about paint colors. She didn’t know if that was presumptuous, but she had already caught Sonny laying in bed bookmarking links to a wine rack and a very overpriced West Elm desk. The building manager agreed to her request, so after work one afternoon she and Sonny got the key from the lock box and let themselves in to ‘their’ unit. It smelled unfamiliar, of wood and plaster and somebody else’s existence.
Sonny immediately headed for the kitchen. He spread his arms across the granite island and leaned forward like he was hugging it. “Look at all this space.”
Grinning, Amanda walked past him, fingertips grazing the top of his head as she moved. “C’mon, look at these paint chips with me.”
The heels of her boots made a satisfying ‘click’ on the hardwood floors as she walked through the apartment and she found herself smiling at the noise. She supposed that was what people meant when they said ‘it’s the little things in life…’ When they entered the master bedroom, Amanda pulled out the paint chips she had been carrying in her coat pocket. She and Sonny had narrowed the options down to three colors after a few impassioned discussions.
“This one, I think. ‘Green Smoke.’” She held the chip up to the wall for a moment and admired it - perfect. It would be strange to have walls that weren’t covered in dings and dents. She walked over to another wall, mind reeling with possibilities. “Then we could put the bureau here, and maybe a big chair here - not the one we have, that one needs to go - and the bed… here.” She ended up on the opposite side of the room, arms wide.
With a few long strides, Sonny stood in front of her. “The bed here, huh?” he smirked. He backed her up against the wall, his body caging her in, then his mouth met hers in a kiss.
“Mm,” Amanda murmured against his lips. She slid her hands around his waist. “Whaddya think?”
He nudged his thigh between hers. “I think it’s great.”
She pulled him in closer so she could slide her tongue against his in a slow, unhurried way. She tasted the coffee they had shared on their trip over and felt the rough beginnings of stubble forming along Sonny’s jaw. When she teasingly licked at his lower lip, she heard a little rumble of a groan roll through him and she smiled, wishing she didn’t have her coat on so his hands could wander. Amanda still had a paint chip in her palm, now pressed against his back, and suddenly she remembered that she was kissing Sonny in their home - a place they were a few annoying pieces of paper away from owning. The permanence of it all took the breath out of Amanda’s lungs, not because it was frightening, but because it amazed her. She let the realization overwhelm her, the rising emotion tightening her throat and stinging her eyes.
Sonny pulled away; his cheeks were the tiniest bit wet from her tears. His eyes widened and searched her face. “Are you… are you crying?” he asked her, very obviously and understandably confused. “Amanda, what’s wrong?”
Amanda shook her head and let out a little laugh at the absurdity of her own weeping. “Nothing’s wrong. That’s why I’m crying,” she answered him honestly. She used the back of a wrist to roughly rub away her tears. “I can’t think of anything more right.”
Sonny took her face in both of his hands and their eyes met. “Are you happy?”
She nodded in the confines of his palms. “Never been happier,” she assured him. “Are you happy?”
A wide, playful smile spread honey-slow across Sonny’s face as he teased her: “I’d be happier if you paid your credit card off…”
Amanda’s mouth fell open in mock offense. “You are such bastard.” Smirking, she turned her head slightly so she could quickly, devilishly nip at the flesh of one of the hands cradling her cheek.
“Ow!” he laughed before he pressed his mouth to hers in a hard kiss. “Of course I’m happy,” he murmured. “I’m home.”
xxx
“Daddy…”
Amanda heard Billie’s cry from her position alone on the couch. She looked at her watch - nine o’clock - and muttered a curse to herself. Sonny wasn’t home from work yet and he hadn’t answered her phone call - the one she had made to him almost an hour ago. Irritation tinged with worry flashed through her. She took a sip of the red wine she had dumped in a juice glass after she had fumbled through giving the girls dinner, then hauled herself to her feet to creep down the hallway to Jesse and Billie’s room.
She found Jesse sleeping soundly, but Billie was sitting up among a tangle of blankets, scowling, her blonde hair sticking up in different directions. Amanda slipped noiselessly into the dark room and sat at the edge of her bed.
“What’s wrong, baby?” she whispered to Billie, mindful of the other girl just a few feet away.
“Why hasn’t daddy come and said ‘goodnight’?” Billie pouted.
She frowned, then smoothed a palm over Billie’s unruly hair. “He’s not home yet, but you need to get some rest, it’s late.”
Billie rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms. “I wanna wait for him. I have a question for him.”
“What’s the question?”
She shook her head. “It’s for him.”
Amanda sighed. “I promise I’ll send him right in. I won’t even let him take off his coat first.”
When she was allowed to return to the living room, Amanda picked up her phone from the coffee table to find that she still hadn’t received a call or message from Sonny. She tossed the device haphazardly onto the couch and made her way into the bedroom. She was accustomed to him working late: even when she was still at SVU, sometimes his job kept him well past whatever her shift required. She didn’t mind it – she found his work ethic admirable and his fierce passion for justice attractive. The anxiety simmering low in her stomach was born of the recent incidents involving BX9. Amanda may not have been privy to all of the details anymore, but she knew enough to be on high-alert, and she was mindful of Sonny’s involvement as a part of the District Attorney’s office.
Fidgety, she opted to take a shower. There was a sixty percent chance that Billie would soon be tugging back the curtain and insisting to get into her bed to wait for daddy, but Amanda was willing to risk it. She savored the rush of hot water and clouds of steam for a little while before going through the routine of soaping up her body and washing her hair. When she was through, she encased herself in a clean towel and pulled a comb through her wet tresses as she studied her face, pink from the heat, in the mirror over the sink. In a way, she wondered if she looked just a bit less tired then she used to – maybe because her new job wasn’t asking so much of her emotionally.
She traded the towel for a gray robe made of light jersey fabric with a hem that ended mid thigh, knotting it at her waist as she padded back into her bedroom. She lifted her eyes just as she crossed the threshold to see Sonny standing at one side of the bed, blazer discarded on the mattress, pulling off his tie.
“Sonny,” Amanda exhaled, visibly relieved. All the tension she was unknowingly holding left her muscles.
“Hey.” He winced when he caught sight of her face; he must have seen the concern still lingering there. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”
“It’s alright.” She crossed her arms over her chest and couldn’t help but add, “I called you.”
“I know, I know. I meant to call you back and then time got away from me…” He hurried across the room to give her a proper kiss - the gesture a greeting and apology all in one. “I had to get a few things straightened out.” When he stepped back, he pulled the tails of his dress shirt from the waistband of his pants and began to undo the buttons. He added, like a casual afterthought: “There’s a squad car outside.”
“Huh?” A new rush of concern swept through Amanda. She quickly moved to the bedroom window and looked past the curtain: her sights narrowed on a NYPD vehicle sitting parked one car behind her red Jeep and directly in front of Sonny’s SUV.
“He’ll be there for awhile,” Sonny went on. “Ignore him.”
“What? Why?” Amanda demanded anxiously. She whirled around to look at Sonny as he shrugged off his shirt, leaving him down to a white tee. Her brow furrowed when he didn’t answer her immediately. “Hey, don’t treat me like I’m some clueless vic. What the hell is goin’ on?”
He sunk down on the edge of the bed and peered up at her. “We’re not takin’ any chances with Oscar Papa’s trial. BX9 isn’t above above doin’ something to the DA’s office. They stalked and threatened Barba and frankly, this has gotten a lot bigger than what he dealt with.” After a weighty pause, he told her: “there’ll be squad car outside of your office, too.”
Despite her mounting worry, she bridled, chin pointed up and proud. “I don’t need some uni getting paid overtime to play on his phone outside my office. Just because I turned in my gun doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.”
His features turned stony and serious. “I wasn’t asking you. I’m telling you.”
Amanda felt a chill run through her. She despised being coddled, but she knew enough about the work he did - that she used to do - to know that Sonny was not over-exaggerating his concern. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip before pressing them both together. “What about the girls?” she whispered eventually.
“There’ll be a car outside their school, too. I don’t wanna disrupt their lives until-“
“Until what, somebody officially tries to off you?” she blurted before she could stop herself. “Did they get you a real security detail? The security at the court house is bullshit, practically anybody can walk in there. I mean, that’s what happened with Barba, right? Heredio got in no problem - more than once!”
He didn’t flinch at her outburst. “We’re not at that level yet. Nobody threatened me. It’s a precaution.”
“Y’know, jeez, what constitutes ‘that level?’” she asked crassly, slapping her hand against her forehead in disbelief. “Who’ve you talked to? Who got you the cars?”
He reached out for the sides of her thighs, pulling her gently so she stood between his knees. “Amanda, I need you to trust me.”
Amanda settled her hands on Sonny’s shoulders; she felt his slide around the backs of her thighs beneath her robe. She chewed the inside of her lower lip as she tried to sort through her feelings. Her eyes settled on the bedroom door as she admitted quietly, “this is the stuff that scares me.”
“You know it’s really just a box for One P.P. and the 8th floor to check,” Sonny reasoned.
“I also know how these bastards operate and the lengths they’ll go to keep the upper hand,” she challenged him.
“It’ll pass.” He leaned in and rested a cheek against her chest. “Everything does.”
There were more words of protest behind her teeth, but Sonny’s voice had taken on a gravelly, tired quality and she knew they could go around in circles about something like this forever – they were good at that. She rested her palms at the base of his neck. “Can you please go look in on Billie?” she eventually sighed, defeated. “She’s been waiting all night for you.”
Sonny nuzzled his nose against her sternum. “Yeah. I just wanna get outta these clothes.”
Once they separated, Amanda crawled onto the bed and watched him move around the room, trading the remnants of his suit for an old t-shirt and basketball shorts. When he disappeared out into the hallway, she exhaled, fighting the urge to peer out the window again to try to identify who was sitting undercover outside of their apartment. Instead she picked up the book she had been diligently reading - Carl Jung’s The Undiscovered Self - and lost herself in it until the bedroom door creaked open and Sonny appeared again.
Amanda looked up from the ear-marked pages she had been studying. “What was her question?”
“She had two questions, actually.” With an exaggerated sigh, Sonny flopped onto his stomach onto the bed, arms spread out in a ’T’ on the mattress. “She wanted to know where God lived – and why she couldn’t see her own eyes.”
An amused grin formed on Amanda’s face. She set her book onto the nightstand. “I hope you had answers for both because Lord knows I’ve got nothin’.”
“I did the classic Catholic ‘God is all around us’ bit,” he mumbled into the comforter. “Then I told her that nobody can see their own eyes-“
“Not even you,” she teased him. She hauled herself onto her knees and crawled over him so she could straddle his hips. Sitting back on her haunches, she let her hands wander over the lean muscles of his back and shoulders. He let out a grunt of appreciation; over the years she had gotten him to see the appeal of massages.
“That seemed to satisfy her,” Sonny concluded.
She nodded. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just focused on her fingers exploring the familiar planes of Sonny’s body while her mind drifted. She thought of the car outside again and how it had come to be parked there. Eventually, she said: “I have a question.”
“Wonderin’ why you can’t see your own eyes?” he joked. “They’re beautiful, by the way.”
She gave the back of his head a teasing little whack. “Did you - I mean, how’s Liv?”
“She did ask about you the other day,” Sonny admitted after a beat of silence.
“She did?” Her hands paused. She felt like a teenager finding out that her crush had mentioned her name. “What did she say?”
“Uh, well, she just was wonderin’ what you were up to.”
“Did you tell her I was asking for her? That I’ve been worried?”
Sonny heaved a sigh beneath her. “Why don’t you just call her, ‘Manda?”
xxx
“Can I help you?”
Amanda stood at the reception desk of Oliva Benson’s apartment building. Years ago, when Liv lived in a walk-up like Amanda did, she could just make her way to her front door unnoticed. Now, a sharp-appearing young man looked down his nose at her from behind a computer screen, waiting for Amanda to justify her presence.
“Hi,” Amanda said. “I’m here for Olivia Benson.”
The man blinked. “Is she expecting you?”
She thought it odd that he wasn’t moving to pick up the telephone to call Liv, to let her know that she had a visitor so she could allow them on to the elevator. He remained perfectly still as Amanda stated, “well, no, but-“
“I’m sorry, she’s not taking any unexpected visitors right now,” he interrupted coolly.
“She knows me, though. We’ve been-“
“Is there a problem here?” a male voice asked from behind her.
Amanda turned to see a uniformed police officer standing with his shoulders back and his chest puffed out; she could help the huff of laughter that escaped her mouth at the sight. Are you fucking kidding me? She wondered if he was hanging around for Liv because of the BX9 attack, but still – she was annoyed. Instinctively, her hand went to her coat pocket for her badge – the one she didn’t carry anymore – and her heart sunk to her stomach. Amanda didn’t know the officer – it would take a five-minute phone call to Fin (unless he wasn’t talking to her either?) to figure out his details – but she was more concerned with connecting with her friend than getting some rookie in trouble with his superior.
“Oh, come on,” she rolled her eyes. “No, no. Look, I’m Amanda Rollins, I’m a SVU detective - I mean, I was. I am. Liv is a friend of mine, she’s-“
“Whatever you say, lady,” he told her gruffly. He took a step forward. “You got about ten seconds to get out of here before I remove you myself.”
Motionless, she glared at him as she turned over her options in her mind. She was moments away from getting right up in this guy’s face, she was so frustrated and hurt - but then she remembered that she had to pick Jesse and Billie up from school, because that was something she did now. So instead, Amanda turned on her heel and stormed out of the building.
The winter air felt good against her hot skin. She dug her phone from her pocket and dialed Liv’s number. “Liv, it’s me. What the hell is goin’ on? This is, I know you’re - just call me back.”
xxx
“I would kill for a glass of whiskey right now,” Amanda muttered, seated next to Sonny at Gotan coffee shop in Tribeca. Her eyes flickered around the café: it wasn’t very busy, save for a few people sitting at their laptops at neighboring tables and a couple more hovering in line at the counter. Next door was a bar and she desperately wished they were there instead, but she and Al had agreed on the café over a series of curt text messages (maybe because they both knew adding alcohol to this discussion was a terrible idea).
“No - nobody’s drinkin’ anything. Not even coffee,” Sonny declared. “We’re havin’ a conversation and we’re goin’ our separate ways.”
“Alright, dad,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping back into her chair. She knew she should give Sonny more grace: Oscar Papa’s trial preparations were already frying his nerves.
Sonny shot her an irritated glance before looking down at his watch. “He’s late.”
“It’s a power thing,” Amanda sighed. “Gotta show how in-demand he is.”
She may not have seen Al in awhile, but she still knew him – and she knew that he loved being the most important person in the room. At first, Amanda was drawn to the power he seemed to possess – she had always gravitated toward men who were in positions of influence (she would unpack that in therapy over and over and over again). She had to admit that even with Sonny, something new was set alight inside of her when she watched him find his place as a lawyer and take command in the courtroom. Yet Sonny was nothing like Al: his honesty and kindness never faltered, and it was never overshadowed by a desire to be superior.
“Are you nervous?” she asked Sonny.
“No,” he answered immediately, then added with a sideways glance, “a little.” He toyed with a crumpled straw wrapper someone had left behind on the table.
Amanda reached for the top of his thigh beneath the table and squeezed. “It’ll be alright,” she assured him, even if she wasn’t sure that was true.
Al breezed in moments later, dressed in green surgery scrubs beneath his jacket and accompanied by someone - a very lithe blonde female someone, who was clinging to him with one hand and holding a gaudy Louis Vuitton purse with the other. The glint of a diamond caught Amanda’s attention; her eyes widened involuntarily. Her pulse began to pound in anticipation as the couple moved closer to their table.
“Who’s that he's with?” Sonny asked.
“I don’t know… but she looks half his age,” Amanda muttered.
Al and his female companion appeared beside them, Al looking harried and remorseful as he immediately dropped down into the seat across from Amanda. The blonde woman slid gracefully in the chair next to him.
“I’m so sorry we’re late, I got paged into surgery,” Al explained breathlessly, setting his pager in the middle of the table for everyone to see. He gestured to his partner with a smile. “This is my fiancée, Kristin.” He looked back over to Amanda, meeting her gaze as he spoke. “Kristin, this is Amanda and her husband, Sonny. Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Amanda mumbled.
“So nice to meet you both,” Kristin smiled, “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have?” Amanda and Sonny said in unison, sounding equally confused.
“I’m so glad we’re getting together to talk about this,” Kristin continued brightly, looking around the table. “Al and I, we want to start our own family, and it’d be so nice to involve Billie. Al and I have a really nice place. We’ve got a bunch of extra rooms, one for a playroom - oh! We have to tell them about our place by the lake-“
“Wait a second.” Amanda held up a hand and glanced between Al and Kristin. Her head was spinning from mounting anxiety and with all the information this stranger was throwing at her. The couple blinked back at her. “Do you, do you think we’re here to talk about… sharing custody with you?”
“Well, yeah, Amanda,” Al answered her smoothly.
Irritation coursed through her, but she tried to keep her voice even. “Did you not - did you not hear what my voicemail said about adoption?”
“No, I did,” he told her. “But why can’t we figure out a way we can all get along? I am her father after all. I mean, I think you remember how we-“
“That’s enough,” Sonny interrupted, his own annoyance clearly boiling over. “Adoption doesn’t leave room for ‘gettin’ along.’ It’s a complete dissolution of your rights.”
“Okay, I see what’s happening here.” Al let out an infuriating chuckle, as if all of this was just some amusing little misunderstanding. “I know I haven’t been around-“
“‘Haven’t been around?’ You aren’t a part of Billie’s life,” Sonny sputtered, disbelief written all over his face. “She has no idea who you are. You never have been-“
“Amanda never wanted me to!” Al argued. “She barely wanted me around, when I was around!”
“So take a hint!” Sonny exclaimed. “It wasn’t workin’ then and it’s not workin’ now.”
Amanda’s eyes met Al’s across the table; his gaze was pleading. She tried to recall how she used to feel about him, back when he was taking her to five-star restaurants and chic bars and romantic hotels. The first thing she remembered was the disgust she had felt when she discovered that he was likely doing the very same things with escorts, the rage and embarrassment that had roared in her ears so loudly that she couldn’t hear his nonsensical excuses when he attempted to explain himself the first time. The first time – ugh, that made her cringe now, to know that she took him back because she desperately wanted him to be something he wasn’t. She was preoccupied with what he – someone outwardly perfect - could be to her. She wondered if he truly had been disappointed when she had told him she didn’t love him. Then she wondered why it even mattered.
“Al, you and I had an agreement,” Amanda reminded him calmly. “I didn’t want anything from you. I’m not… I’m not sure why you’re suddenly taking an interest in this now.”
“It’s not a ‘sudden interest.’ I’ve always been interested,” Al challenged her, and then it was as if they were the only two people involved in the conversation. He leaned in and jabbed an emphatic finger at the table’s surface. “You weren’t interested, Amanda. I wanted to get married, have a family, give you the opportunity to be with your children… you couldn’t have been less interested.”
Her mouth hung open, angry at the way he painted such a simplistic picture. Her impulse was to set him straight, to make sure she came off strong and dignified - especially in front of the woman who was wearing a ring that looked suspiciously similar to the one Al had given her years ago. “I told you I wasn’t gonna quit my job. I think you’re also forgetting a few other details-“
“We worked through those!”
“I mean, maybe, but I never really knew-“
“Can we stay focused here?” Sonny interjected loudly, an arm sweeping across the table in between Amanda and Al.
Cheeks burning with both embarrassment and aggravation, Amanda looked over at Sonny, who was very deliberately not looking at her. His features had gone sharp and stony, and she knew he was angry. Her gaze flickered to Kristin, who poise was beginning to falter slightly: there was a bit of pink coloring her face and her brow was knitted together as her eyes remained fixated on Al.
Whatever flash of affection Al had revealed for Amanda had disappeared. His facial expression hardened. “I think the next conversation we have should be mediated.”
“Yeah, looks that way,” Sonny agreed, voice dripping with disdain.
Al abruptly got to his feet; Kristin followed. “We’ll be in touch.”
Amanda’s heart started pounding in her ears. She didn’t want the conversation to end this way. She stood up. “Wait-“
“You’re going to need a lawyer,” Al told her, tone scathing. Looking directly at Sonny, he added, “another lawyer.”