Work Text:
The ungodly ringing next to his head had Carisi cursing a blue streak before he was even fully awake.
Snatching his cellphone off the bedside table, he pressed it to his ear in the dark.
“Whoever this is, I’m not the on-call ADA and if you think for one second I’m getting out of bed for an underaged DUI—”
“Dominick, it’s me.”
He pushed himself onto his left elbow. “Amanda?”
“I know it’s late, I’m so sorry—” She hissed and muttered something away from the phone speaker. “Can you come over please?”
Carisi swung his legs over the edge of the bed and clicked on the light.
“What happened? Are you okay? Are the girls—”
“The girls are fine, they’re with my mom for the weekend.”
He couldn’t help but notice her lack of answers for the other questions.
“Alright, uh…” He rushed to grab a pair of jeans and a hoodie off the chair next to his closet. “And you’re at your place?”
“Where else would I be, Carisi?”
“Well, I didn’t want to assume—”
“Can you please just…” A thud was followed by another muffled curse. “Just get here soon, okay?”
She hung up before he could respond.
Dressing in record time, he gathered his keys and triple checked the shiny brass spare he had for Amanda’s apartment.
Good thing he had.
After a short drive he found himself knocking repeatedly at her door, only to hear the faint call of her voice from inside.
“Amanda?” He slid the key into the deadbolt. “I’m coming in, okay. Don’t shoot.”
Probably not the best joke to make, but it was nearly 2am, so decorum be damned.
He glanced around before stepping fully inside.
“Rollins, it’s me,” he said, closing the door behind him. “Where are you?”
“Back here,” she said, and he could hear the relief and exhaustion in just those two words.
Striding past the kitchen and through the living room, he B-lined for the bedrooms.
He did a double take when he got to the hall bathroom.
“’Manda?”
She was propped up with her back against the vanity cabinet, a stepstool knocked over next to her, legs splayed.
“Jesus—”
“I’m okay, I promise,” she said, lifting her hand – the one not holding her cellphone.
“That’s what okay looks like?” He argued, already hoisting the stool out of the small room and into the hallway so he could get to her. “What the hell happened?”
“Nothing, just my damn knee gave out and—”
Carefully stepping over her, he bent down. “Here, put your arm around my shoulder.”
“This feels silly.”
“You’re hurt, Amanda.”
“I’m not that hurt,” she said, trying to wave him off. “I just need to get on my feet.”
“You need to get to the couch.” He waited until he could feel her yielding just a little before starting to lift her. “Ready? One, two…”
On three, he pulled her up with him, keeping steady until she had one foot solidly planted on the bathroom rug.
“Good?” He asked, still holding onto her tightly.
“My ass hurts,” she admitted with a half-smile. “But yeah, I’m alright.”
Nodding, he said, “Great. Now let’s get you somewhere comfortable.”
It was a wobbly, awkward dance all the way back to the living room, but eventually Carisi got her to the sofa safely.
“Seriously, what happened?” He asked, grabbing two throw pillows to prop up her injured knee.
Amanda let out a hefty sigh. “You’ll just laugh…”
Arching an eyebrow at her, he tried not to smirk. “If I didn’t laugh at you when you got car sick that one time, I certainly won’t laugh at you now.”
Settling against the cushions, she brushed her hair off her forehead.
“I ran out of whiskey, and I didn’t want to go out to get more,” she started, looking at her swollen knee instead of making eye contact with him. “And then I remembered I stashed a small bottle above my medicine cabinet when my dad was staying here…”
Carisi chuckled, and immediately covered his mouth. “Sorry, sorry. Continue.”
“I was stone cold sober, I swear. This damn knee just caught and I couldn’t stop myself and then… well, you found me pretty much where I landed. I’m just glad I had my phone in my pocket.”
“Yeah, so am I,” he said, solemn and firm.
He refused to let the ‘what ifs’ take hold, but the images still flashed in rapid succession.
While she readjusted herself with all the pillows, he went into the kitchen to fetch the Advil and a glass of water. Pausing by the fridge, he opened it and got out the ice cream, chocolate sauce, and two spoons.
“Here,” he said when he returned. “Take two of these—” he passed her the pain relievers and water. “I’ll get you an ice pack but I thought this was more urgent.”
When she saw the carton, her eyes lit up and her smile warmed the center of his chest.
“Thanks, Sonny,” she said softly.
“Sure thing.”
Minutes later, Amanda had an ice pack strapped to her knee, a throw blanket around her shoulders, and Sonny to lean against as they both devoured what was left of the cookies ’n’ cream while watching reruns of bad tv.
Dipping her spoon into the melty side of the ice cream, Amanda shifted a little.
“Hey Carisi?”
“More chocolate syrup?”
She shook her head. “No, no, I’m good. I just…” She took a bite. Swallowed. Shifted again. “Thank you.”
“For the ice cream?”
“For picking up your phone.”
Carisi paused, hand flexing against the back of the sofa. He wanted to hold her closer, comfort her more. He couldn’t imagine how scared she was in those first minutes – realizing she was alone and injured in the middle of the night.
“Hey, listen,” he started. “I think we both know I’m just enough of a workaholic to always answer my phone.”
He could feel her laugh more than hear it, vibrating in the crook of his arm.
Carisi dropped his voice a little. “But for you? Always means always. Any time, any place, even if you’re mad at me—”
“I’m not mad at you that often.”
“Okay, irritated.”
“Annoyed.”
“Miffed.”
That time her laugh was loud and bright and he followed suit, smile so wide his cheeks hurt.
“That just doesn’t sound right coming out of your mouth,” she said, still giggling.
Scooping a spoonful for himself, he said, “Maybe if I was British.”
“Maybe.” Amanda tilted her head over her shoulder, glancing up at him. “But Staten Island suits you.”
That time his smile was soft, a little timid, wrinkling the corners of his eyes.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. “And I’m glad you called me.”
Taking a beat, he added, “Just promise me you’ll never climb up on stuff to get a stupid bottle of hidden liquor again.”
Amanda shook her head. “No deal. But I will promise to make it good liquor.”
Carisi’s groan was almost muffled by her laugh.
“Now hush, we’re getting to the good part,” she said, patting his knee and gesturing to the television.
He had to admit, it was pretty great.
And he wasn’t talking about the show.