A/N

So, I've been trying to write a story for these two for a while, cos lets face it, these two women have some chemistry. Only I couldn't get it to work and I'm still not sure … there's more to this story if people think it has the potential to go somewhere, rated K for now but if it continues will most likely go up to an M cos, well, why not?

Disclaimers – characters not mine, I'm just playing with 'em.

Reviews are love


Amanda Rollins loved to bake. She figured it was the Southerner in her, all those lazy Sunday mornings as a kid watching her Mom baking from the kitchen table. The smell of spices and sweet icing sugar dancing in the warm air, like a bubble of happiness softly wrapped around you.

Baking felt romantic and Rollins liked romance, not that she would ever admit it.

So when her gambling group said she needed to find an outlet, something to replace the time she spent following the games, the playoffs, something different to her usual vices of running … and vodka, there was really only one thing which came to mind.

Every time she felt that lonely urge bubbling up inside her, threatening to overspill, she tossed a dollar bill into the jar on the kitchen worktop and switched on the oven, going wherever the creative mood took her. It was working, at last count the jar stood heavy at $198 dollars and the detectives of the 1-6 were getting fat.

Some of them, anyway.

"Oh yum …" Liv's eyes danced a little as they fell upon the familiar cake tin on Rollins' desk, "Is that crumb cake?"

Rollins smiled and nodded, as much as she loved to bake, she was self-aware enough to realise that all bakers are essentially narcissists who love to be adored and praised for their work.

She sat back in her chair, watching the brunette detective shake off her jacket and toss it on the back of her own chair before approaching the open tin with a customary amount of glee.

It hadn't escaped anyone that the overall satisfaction levels in the precinct had gone up since the first introduction of the cake tin.

"Om … m … gud …" Olivia spoke, through a mouthful of the delicious crumb cake, its sweet cinnamon goodness warming her insides on a cold November Monday. "You should really consider a career change!" She joked, before catching herself and her words. "Actually don't …" She added softly. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

Amanda's insides flipped over gently at the sincerity of the words, not letting herself be fooled into thinking that the older detective meant anything more than her participation to the squad. Still, what she wouldn't give to mean 'everything' to Olivia Benson.

"I can do both …" She mumbled softly, drawing her eyes away from the brunette's lest she notice the sadness hiding there.

Olivia approached her, laying her hand upon the blonde's shoulder as she gave it a gentle squeeze, the last mouthful of crumb cake disappearing fast. "That you can." She affirmed, "That you most certainly can, though if you keep this up for much longer I'm going to have to seriously up my exercise!" She added, softly patting her stomach with her free hand.

Rollins took a beat to censor the mass of thoughts suddenly spiralling through her mind, Liv's hand on her shoulder, standing so close she could smell the brunette's perfume and her shampoo. The gentle squeeze of fingertips against her shoulder like red hot pokers dancing along her skin, overwhelming her senses. She wanted to spill every word caught on her lacklustre tongue, be flamboyant with her praise for the brunette's trim figure, sexy butt, strong legs and toned abs, instead she squeaked, "Nonsense Liv, you look amazing and you know it."

Olivia frowned a little, and then blushed; the thinly veiled compliment a little misunderstanding to say the least. Sensing Amanda's discomfort she broke their contact and returned to her desk and a stack of underwhelming DD5's, resolving to ask Amanda later what the tension was about. She sat down with a sigh, telling herself she did not need to eat a second piece of that crumb cake.


Mid afternoon, opportunity arose when Cragen sent them both out to interview a young girl at Mercy General whose teachers had brought her in after seeing bruises during a sports lesson. As the made their way down the steps from the hospital, Olivia realised another few inches of snow had fallen since they drove there, somewhat hazardously, just an hour and a bit before.

"Looks like we're taking the subway," She noted, turning to Rollins for affirmation.

Rollins smirked and nodded. "I'm from Georgia," She pointed out wryly, "I've no plans to try driving again until the spring!"

Liv chuckled, their bodies jostling softly together as they set out walking towards the nearest subway, neither caring to comment on the awkward way they both tried to avoid it but enjoyed it nonetheless.

"So … who taught you to bake?" Liv asked, feeling perhaps after several months of enjoying Amanda's wares but never asking what precipitated their introduction – now might be that time.

"My Mom," Rollins replied, "She's a great cook, one of the best."

The tinge of loss in her voice tugged at Olivia's heartstrings. "Sounds like you really miss her?"

Rollins turned towards her, unsure. Whilst their relationship as co-workers had blossomed significantly over the past few months, their friendship still had a way to go before she'd even go so far as to call it that. "Um … yeah …" She replied hesitantly, "I guess I do …"

"I've no idea where you find the time." Liv noted, really just trying to fill up the air between them lest it be filled with emotions that were even more alien to them both. "I barely have time to do my laundry," She joked, mentally chastising herself that this was in fact true.

Amanda smiled, appreciative of the humour just a touch unsure of what to do with it. She could tell Olivia the real reason why she baked, to keep her disobedient hands busy, to stop herself from doing things she knew were bad for her, but she desperately wanted the older detective to think well of her. She baulked at the idea of Olivia seeing her as weak willed, battling her addiction just like Liv's own mother had battled hers.

And lost.

It was Fin who told her, after Liv and Amaro walked in on her in Cragen's office, her sky blue eyes filled with tears. Fin said that Olivia wouldn't care, wouldn't be the one to judge her, that Amanda could trust her – only given his reasoning Amanda couldn't be sure.

She realised it was minutes since she last spoke.

Liv was watching her as they walked, head bent – looking at her footsteps as they trudged through the grey snow, lost in her own thoughts. So when Amanda stopped abruptly on the busy sidewalk she noticed, and stopped too.

"What is it?" Liv asked softly, the cold air biting against her cheeks. "Amanda, what's wrong?"

Amanda's eyes lifted slowly. She missed home because the city felt so spacious she often wondered if she might get lost in it. Ironically she left Atlanta because the place felt too small and after what happened to her everyone was always looking and staring, asking her if she was okay. In New York no one ever asked if she was okay, and strangely, she missed it.

"Time isn't exactly my friend Liv …" She explained, words barely audible above the incessant hum of pedestrians and traffic.

Olivia grasped the blonde's arm and walked them both out of the path of foot traffic. She turned Amanda to face her, urging the blonde to make eye contact.

"I get that." She said, softly nodding in understanding. "I get what it's like to feel alone even though you have no free time in which to feel lonely …"

Amanda took a deep breath and sighed, before raising her eyes to meet a pair of sparkling chocolate orbs looking back at her. Her legs wobbled and she felt weak, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to fall into the comfort and security Liv's concern offered.

"I …"

For a second, whilst her guard was down, Liv saw pain etched upon the blonde's face, it went against the smiling happy co-worker who provided delicious treats for her to eat that were making her belly softer and her insides happier.

"I've only got about 20 bucks to go till I can get my Kitchen Aid …" Rollins muttered in a rush, replacing the safety of the walls she'd worked so tirelessly to construct around herself.

Liv smiled back at her, perplexed, her hands still upon the smaller woman's forearms where they stood, in the cold, on the street. "Your Kitchen Aid?"

Amanda relaxed, her ability to cope no longer the topic of conversation, this was something positive, something good. "Every time I get the urge … to gamble …" She explained, her voice derisive over the last part. "I stick a dollar in this jar on my kitchen work top and instead of doing that … I bake a cake instead."

She let out a long overdue breath, realising what this admission meant for their friendship and working relationship.

Olivia softened, leaning her body against the wall. She let her hands drop down Amanda's arms to grasp her hands, gloved as they were, inside her own. "So all those cakes … every time …?"

Amanda nodded, a little ashamed, "Yup …" she dropped her head again, willing the ground to swallow her whole.

The loss of Olivia's grip was replaced by the feel of soft leather, gloved fingertips against her forehead, damp from freshly falling snow. Liv swept the strands of hair from Amanda's face and ran her fingers tentatively across her cheek, coming to a stop as she cupped the blonde's chin gingerly, acutely aware of the boundaries the motion crossed.

"Liv?" Amanda's voice was questioning, small, and almost fearful.

"You'll get that Kitchen Aid." Liv replied, by way of explanation. "I promise."


Reviews are love ... so ... should I keep going?