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The argument had started a week ago.
Sonny and Amanda blamed each other. Fin blamed both of them. Mike blamed Sonny. Liv blamed all four of them, and she enlisted help from Rafael and Nick, as unbiased parties who had not worked with them in a while, to organize a proper competition. The discussion of how good holiday desserts were would be decided by a taste test. According to the rules they had written, Amanda, Fin, and Mike would provide a different holiday-themed dessert for Sonny to taste. It could be store-bought or homemade; the main purpose was to simply see which dessert was the best. The reason why Sonny was judging it and not participating was because of how passionate he was about food. His title as the resident office foodie had long since proven it for the squad.
On the day of the competition, Sonny comes in with a stomach ready for three desserts and three separate plates and utensils. Cap sets up the break room with a red tablecloth and arranges it so that the competition can start during their lunch break. Rafael has a class to teach, and Nick goes in right when their break starts, but Cap texts them and updates the others on their comments. It was set up with their suggestions, after all: Nick had offered to make Sonny the judge, and Rafael suggested the competition be anonymous. Sonny wasn’t going to know who brought what to avoid being biased to his boyfriend. Sonny had protested it, not just because it was natural to have a friendly spar with Rafael Barba, but because there was no such bias when it came to Mike Dodds.
Sonny and Mike had started dating six months after Mike’s arrival. His injury with Munson had forced him to suspend his transferred to JTF that never occurred. The thought of leaving SVU in suspense that his life was in danger every time he went to work, tenfold from what it already was, terrified him, especially when he had Sonny to care and love. Four years later, Lieutenant Dodds was getting closer to becoming a reality, Sonny’s last year as a detective before his departure to the DA’s office was getting closer, and their relationship was strong.
“You ready, Alton Brown?” Cap asks, poking her head out from the break room with a smile. Sonny stands with a nod and pulls on the sweater he had brought for the special occasion. Cap breaks into a laugh the second he straightens it over his pants. “Nice shirt.”
“I like the shirt,” he says with a shrug, smiling when Cap laughs again and waves him inside. The sweater is decorated with tiny candy canes and has striped cuffs. It was tasteful, if a bit cheesy, but he wouldn’t be upset if it got something on it.
The three desserts have already been brought in, so he has no idea who brought what. Sonny plops down in one of the chairs and stretches his legs out under the table. From looks alone, the Christmas log is the most appealing. Judging by the professional design and flawless presentation, it was definitely made in a bakery. There are two types of Christmas bark, one peppermint and the other peanut, all jagged pieces and pointy edges. And the last item is a fruitcake. An ugly brown loaf with a slice already cut out to show off the dried fruits inside.
Sonny looks up at Cap, who glances at him over her glasses. “Who the hell brought the fruitcake?”
“The point of the blind taste test is that it’s all anonymous,” she points out. “What good is it if you know who brought it?”
Sonny already has five theories for each of the detectives to explain why they would bring such an atrocity of dessert in front of him, but he tables the thoughts and gets to tasting. Just as suspected, the yule log is from a bakery, but it’s creamy and soft. It’s the complete opposite of the bark, which is hard and coarse when he tries to bite it but instantly melts in his mouth in a mixture of salt from the peanuts and crisp spice from the peppermint. Cap has to call both Rafael and Nick to see if they would let him skip the fruitcake, but they’re both adamant that he has to try it. So he does.
The fruitcake isn’t bad. The dried fruits actually pair well with the bread, which bounces when he presses his fork against it. He wasn’t a big fan of dried fruits, but the ones incorporated into the loaf prove differently. It’s different from the log and bark, more than the differences he had already suspected. The fruitcake is savory; it’s not meant to be a dessert from the lenses of American foods. It’s almost good. If he had been warned ahead of time, maybe he would have given it a second chance.
Sonny walks out of the break room to find the three detectives working, Amanda typing up a report, Fin and Mike chatting at the board over a lead in a case. When he steps in, closely followed by their Captain, they walk over and practically hoard him.
“Well?” Amanda demands, impatience flickering over her face. It almost reminds him of Jessie and Billie. “Who won? What’s the best dessert?”
“Just tell it to us straight,” Fin insists. “We can take it.”
Sonny laughs quietly at their eagerness and holds up his hands. “Alright, relax, I got some scores to settle,” he says. He ignores Amanda’s grumbled “of course” for now. “First off, I liked everything. So even though one is better than the other, nothing was absolutely terrible.”
Fin frowns as Amanda is already retorting back. “What, even that fruitcake monstrosity? You really wanna stand in front of me with your corny sweater and tell me that a loaf of bread with dried fruit was edible?!”
“I like the sweater,” Mike says.
“Biased,” Amanda huffs.
“Since you brought it up,” Sonny continues, stepping between them, “yeah, the fruitcake was good. But it’s still a fruitcake. If I wanted to eat something healthy, I wouldn’t be having Christmas dessert.” He looks between the three of them to try and get a reaction from one of them and reveal who brought it, but they give him nothing. Detective against detectives—a bit unfair, seeing as it was three against one. And yet it’s a bit obvious that none of them would give anything up. “So who was it? Who brought the fruitcake? I just wanna talk.”
None of them move. Fin looks away and scratches the back of his neck; Amanda purses her lips, eyes wandering to the ceiling; Mike watches both of them and flickers between them and Sonny. He almost wants to ask again—he really just wants to know which one did it. He isn’t angry, or even that bothered by it, but it would be better personally if they stopped dragging him along and were upfront about their crime.
Sonny doesn’t expect Mike to raise his hand. Of the three of them, it seems obvious that he would do something like that to his boyfriend. But he does it all the same, and as soon as his hand is in the air, Amanda and Fin break into laughter, bending over laughing. Mike joins in with a soft chuckle of his own and a bit of red to his cheeks. Sonny clamps his lips shut to stop himself from teasing his boyfriend.
“Look, I just wanted to see what your reaction would be,” he admits, big brown eyes soft and shy as soon as he opens his mouth. Whatever irritation Sonny held melts the second he turns those eyes toward him. “I knew it wouldn’t be a competition if I competed.”
“Oh come on,” Sonny pouts. Even Mike’s goofy smile at the expression can stop him. He and Mike love each other, sure, but that doesn’t mean they can’t separate their relationship when they need to. As if they won’t have to once Sonny moves to the DA’s office. “I’m not that biased against you.”
“I would argue it’s not about you and Mike,” Fin muses, and Sonny spins toward him again. Amanda’s nods only make the irritation boil higher.
“Yeah, I agree,” she says with a shrug. “We asked about it when we were setting up, and Mike said you would know the second you went in.”
“Why, because I know his tastes?” Sonny scowls.
There’s a hand on his shoulder to calm him, and Cap smiles at him gently. The anger seeps out of him again when she speaks, all soothing tones and a steady voice. “Do you know what Mike’s favorite dessert is?”
Sonny nods. “Fudge brownies with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.”
“Actually,” Mike speaks up, and his face is much redder than before. The color seeps into his hair and vanishes across the tips of his ears. “It’s pizzelles.”
Sonny can feel his stomach plummet it to the ground. Pizzelles were the favorite cookie of the Carisi clan, and while Sonny had a higher preference for traditional Italian fig cookies, pizzelles still held a soft spot in his heart. To hear that they had made enough of an impression on Mike to be his favorite made him dizzy with glee. If he had presented a plate of them, Sonny would have known instantly who was the culprit. It wasn’t a secret that they were important, but who else would view them the same as him?
Mike grabs his hand, swinging it a bit when their palms slide together and their fingers get entangled. “I still like fudge brownies with vanilla ice cream. But I knew if I really put up my real favorite, you would know it was me.”
“That’s fair,” Sonny mumbles to him, and Mike grins, fond and happy. He is quickly reminded of the dessert it had been replaced with. “You didn’t have to do fruitcake, though. What the hell?”
“I mean, it was funny, right?”
Amanda and Fin laugh, bringing Sonny back to the squad room, and he pulls Mike in closer, chest to chest. He can feel his deep breaths and the thrum of his heart, feel the heat of his skin that remind him how very alive Mike is. How much he loves Sonny and has stood by him through all the shit that life has thrown at them. It has hurt both of them, but they are only stronger for fighting it and coming out on top.
“I almost don’t wanna name the winner,” Sonny sighs. He just about bites back a laugh at the surprised gasp and choked words from beside them. “You deserve an award all on your own for having a sweet answer like that.”
“Even with my terrible fruitcake?” Mike smirks.
“Again, it wasn’t bad. Just unexpected.” Sonny pokes him in the chest and raises his chin so he can look him in the eye. “If you bring it up in secret again, I might have to put you on the couch.”
“Which was better?” Amanda asks.
Mike lets out a loose sigh and sags against Sonny, hands coming up to coast down his back. “Well, maybe we can avoid that.”
“They’re about to have sex in the middle of the squad room,” Fin grumbles. “I bought the yule log for nothing.”
“And with that sweater,” Amanda adds, rolling her eyes when Sonny sticks his tongue out. “I said what I said. It’s tacky.”
“I think we can lose the sweater for now,” Mike muses, and Sonny nearly smacks his boyfriend in the face with how quickly he throws it off. The sweater was temporary anyway; now that the best dessert is in front of him, he doesn’t have to hold back.
“Cap, we got any time left on that break?” Sonny asks. Mike is already leading him in the direction of the crib. Hopefully, no one’s decided to catch up on sleep to prevent them from making out and rutting against each other like a couple of horny college students.
Cap, who has barely looked up from whatever she’s typing on her phone, waves them on. “Fifteen minutes.”
Sonny gives a teasing wave to Amanda and Fin, who head to the break room with the determination to eat their desserts themselves, as Mike pulls him to the crib. They bump their limbs on the way there, Sonny nearly stubs his toe, Mike trips on his own feet, but when they fall on a bed and stare at each other, Sonny forgets everything that’s not Mike Dodds. His luck increases every day when he has a heart so big, his biggest offense is his sweetest gesture.