Work Text:
It's the day after the whole case with Lena being exposed as a murderer and Nate being exposed as a womanizing bastard, and Amanda Rollins is exhausted.
Exhausted, actually, might not be a strong enough word. She's full-on, whole-hog, unbearably, blearily exhausted, with all that that entails; physically, emotionally, mentally.
She knows she shouldn't have gone to the gambling club last night. But honestly, what even is the point anymore? GA turned out to be a big god damned joke, just another social circle for predators and self-righteous players to hide in, and if abstaining from gambling means going through that kind of environment again, well. At least with gambling she can make some money, forget some things, and feel something other than used.
Rushing into work fifteen minutes late, with sunglasses and a venti americano, probably doesn't make everyone worry about her any less. But fuck it, they all probably think she’s just torn up about Nate. They won’t automatically think she's relapsed. It's fine. She's fine.
“Mornin’, ‘Manda”, Fin greets her as she hastily sits down in her chair and pretends to look as though she's been there for more than two seconds in case Liv comes out of the office and gets on her case again. He's as effortlessly calm and cool as ever, but she thinks she sees a raised eyebrow in his casual expression, and makes a note to avoid being alone with any of her fellow squad members today, in case anyone tries to interrogate her on her tardiness and general emotional well-being.
Nick, of course, knows no such subtlety.
“Hey, Amanda. Are you okay?” He leans over, straightening his tie, genuine concern written all over his face.
She snorts. Not even gonna grace that one with an apology, she thinks, opening up her laptop and taking a pointed sip of her coffee. If you wanted me to be okay you wouldn’t have gone snooping around in my sex life and pretended that it was about anything other than jealousy.
It's not like she’s stupid. She knows there's something there, some kind of infuriating tension that doesn't seem to listen when she tells herself “no, he’s such a self-righteous asshole, he's married, he's obnoxious, he's everything you can't stand and you know it.”
She hadn't minded, back when they'd first met. Even when she noticed the wedding band, it wasn't like it was going to become a thing - he was just some co-worker, and she knew far better than to dabble in messing around with coworkers at this point in her life, especially the married ones.
But somehow, it didn't go away, and it definitely did become a thing. Not that she had any idea how, because the more they got to know each other, the more they clashed and butted heads. Nick was everything that pissed her off in a guy: overly involved, heart on his sleeve and a need for everyone else’s to be there too, nosy, a need to feel like a savior to everyone, a complete lack of ability to shut up. He always seemed to want to save her without any idea what he'd really be saving her from; he didn't know anything, but he never stopped trying to know everything. It drove her up the damn wall.
And now he sits there, trying to see if she was okay, after he sabotaged her relationship and tried to pretend that it was a) for her benefit and b) for the case. Pfft. He can perfectly well work out that she isn’t okay - he isn't that bad a detective - and she hopes he feels like shit for it.
She shifts her sunglasses further up her nose and ignores him, looking intently at her work email and already counting down ‘till the end of her shift. It's gonna be a long day.
-----
“Hey, Amanda.”
She winces. She’d forgotten her resolution to not be alone with anyone today, and as she got up to get a soda from the vending machine, Fin tailed after her. Damn it, Fin.
“Hey, Fin,” she says cheerily, with a sarcastic smile and a very obvious “don't talk if you know what's good for you” undertone.
Fin, naturally, has his own plans.
“Look, ‘Manda, I'm sorry ‘bout Nate. Guy was an asshole, but ya shouldn't’ve had to find out like that. Let me know if you need me to beat him up some time, ‘kay? I got you.”
She smiles, actually buoyed by his words. Fin always knows how to offer support in the least intrusive way. If only Nick could take a page out of his book.
“Nah, Amanda, he was only tryin’a help. Guy’s an idiot about it, but he cares about you, you know?”
Cursing herself, she realizes she must have said what she was thinking out loud. Damn.
She snorts, not really knowing what to say. He's got a funny way of showing it, that's for sure.
“Hey, come on. You know he does. And you care about him a little bit too, no?” Fin nudges her with his fist, jokingly, but the vending machine’s just spit out her soda and that means this conversation - whose turn towards the Nicholas she does not appreciate - can blissfully end.
“Nice chatting with ya, Fin,” she says, nodding as she passes him. They both know it's a dismissal, but he's smart enough not to call her out on it. He's definitely her favorite coworker.
-----
At long last, the day is over. The paperwork is done. Leads have been followed. Her coat is on, the door to the precinct has just closed behind her, and Amanda is free to sneak off to the gambling club and forget everydamnthing in a haze of cigarette smoke, poker chips, whiskey, and “hit me”s.
“Amanda.”
Of fucking course.
“Nicholas.” Her smile is anything but friendly as she turns toward him, and he seems to notice the hostility for once. He clears his throat and looks a bit awkward, but he surges full-speed ahead anyway, just like he always does.
“Look, Amanda, I just wanted to say -”
She cuts him off. “You want to say a lot of things, Nick, and that usually gets you into trouble. I'm fine. And I'm going now, so…” She trails off, slowly turning away, but also keeping her eyes on him to see how he'll respond.
“I wanted to say sorry,” he almost shouts after her, and that actually stops her in her tracks.
Nick, apologizing? Since when?
Far from providing comfort or closure, she finds that the apology brings her blood to a boil.
“Really? Are you?” She crosses her arms and walks closer to him, and he must see the challenge on her face, because he backs up a little, back hitting the concrete wall right next to the door. She doesn't back down.
“Which part, Nick? Are you sorry for sneaking into a meeting, spying on my life and snooping where you aren't welcome? Are you sorry for waltzing in on your high horse to tell me Nate was a thirteenth stepper, expecting some kind of thank you for getting your panties in a twist over what I do on my own time? Are you sorry for telling Barba all about it and letting him go after Nate in court without giving me any kind of warning, or heads up, about what was going to go down there? Are you sorry for constantly sticking your nose into my business when it's clear I haven't asked you to be there? What, Nick? What exactly you really sorry for?”
She’s in his space, eyes blazing, fury just pouring out of her now that he’s gone and kicked down the dam. Nick’s eyes are wide, like he’s shocked she let all of that out on him, but she can see the defensiveness in the squaring of his shoulders and jaw, and she's not surprised when he meets her with a tirade of his own.
“What was I supposed to do, Amanda? The guy was an asshole, obviously, he was just using you. You and Lena both. He was abusing the program! Was I just supposed to let him take advantage of you and god knows how many other women? And then what, was I supposed to keep quiet about it, not tell anyone, and sink our case? She killed someone, Amanda, and Nate knew enough to know it. I had to tell Barba about it. I'm sorry you got hurt, but I'm not sorry that I tried to help!”
His chest is heaving, jaw clenched, and he seems genuinely angry too, which is just rich.
“You shouldn't have known it in the first place!” She counters, loudly, angrily, so fucking mad that this basic concept can't seem to get through to him. “It doesn't matter what happened after because you shouldn't have known any of it at all! You shouldn't have gone to my meetings, you shouldn't have spied on my friends, you should have just stayed out of it like literally any normal person would have done!”
“How was I supposed to stay out of it?!” Nick’s hands clench where he’s got them wrapped around his crossed arms. “He knew what was going on! He knew what she'd done, and if he didn't, he sure knew enough to work it out! He wasn't even really into GA or AA, he was into preying on women new to the program! He was one step below the kind of guys we see at work here, Amanda, and I can't see why you're so upset about me looking out for you and doing my job.”
She laughs, a cold, bitter sound.
“Looking out for me? Really? And doing your job? I didn't know it was your job to spy on me, and I didn't know it counted as ‘looking out for me’ to go and stalk the guy I was sleeping with just because you're jealous that it's not you!”
The words hang there for a moment.
So that's that. She said it, they've acknowledged it, it's out there. Standing there toe to toe, furious, chests heaving, breath coming out in clouded puffs of air.
And then - she doesn't even know how it happened, because they were definitely just two seconds from ripping each other's heads off - one or both of them surged forward, and for one split heated second, they’re kissing. But as quickly as it began, they've sprung apart.
Amanda claps her hand over her mouth and they both glance around wildly, eyes wide and heart rates skyrocketing, trying to see if anyone had seen.
This is where they work, they can't just kiss right outside the building. What the hell were they thinking? Well, they weren't, she supposes, and she's going to start thinking right now.
“I've gotta go,” she mumbles, walking away from him and down the street as fast as she can, staring at the ground and trying to stop her thoughts from racing as quickly as her heart is.
“Amanda!”
She keeps walking.
“Amanda!”
She keeps walking.
“AMANDA!”
She turns the corner, not slowing down.
“Amanda.” Nick is panting, slowing his jog down to a walk, catching up to her.
Of course he couldn't just leave it be.
She stops, turning to face him, feet planted firmly in the ground, arms crossed, eyes defiant.
“What?”
She's not gonna back down. She's gonna tell him to turn around and leave her alone, to stop chasing after her every god damn time she runs away, to stop acting like a co-dependent puppy and to start acting like a reasonable adult.
She's going to, but then he walks up to her and stands right there, right in front of her, not backing down either. She blinks.
He reaches out, one hand coming to rest on her back, steps closer, and he looks at her for a moment, his eyes clearly saying, “stop me if you want to.”
For all that he never knows when to quit, she believes it. That if she told him to stop, to take his hand off of her and leave her alone right now, he would. That if she kissed him here and then turned around and told him to fuck off and went home by herself, he would leave.
She doesn't want him to.
She's tired of fighting. She's tired of spending every waking moment fighting something, whether it's Nick or gambling urges or her sister or Liv or her memories. She's tired of the stares between them and this constant itch that never goes away, even after she did everything she could to make it leave. She's tired, is the thing, and there's nothing holding her back anymore. Everything has gone to shit. His marriage is toast. Her boyfriend, or whatever he was, turned out to be a jerk, and he’s definitely not going to be in her life ever again. She's just exhausted, tired of feeling like her life is a war zone, so she lets go. She lets herself have just this one thing.
She had been going to go gambling tonight. But this, going home with Nick? It feels like a gamble, too, and she can only hope she isn't in another losing streak.
But for tonight, just this once, she lets herself have what she's wanted for more than two years. If it goes to shit, well, so has everything else.
So she closes her eyes, wraps her arms around his neck, and leans into him. She waves for a taxi. She lets him into her house, her life, her body. She even lets him sleep over after, and she lets herself find comfort in his body heat and soft snores.
Fuck it.
She's tired of fighting.