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Sonny loved his sister very much.
That’s why he would be oh-so-sad when he strangled her. He’d be relieved, obviously. But there would still be tears during all the heel-clicking.
She had promised him one hour, tops. All he had to do was sit there and look not disgusting. When he’d shown up in his nicest slacks and his crispest white shirt, Gina had taken one look at him and sighed, “I asked you for one thing, Sonny.”
Which, wow. Hurtful.
That single hour had somehow mutated into four. He had put out every chair and table, hung the banners, had arranged the caterers because someone hadn’t thought about food, and thrown together a non-offensive but still hip playlist because “I don’t have a Spotify account, Sonny, and the ads will be annoying.” Plus, he had to drive to three different stores to find the damn little silver bell to ring at the end of each round. Now, six minutes before the whole circus began, his hair was flopping into his eyes, his shirt was welded to his sweaty back, and his slacks were creased to absolute fuck.
“Sonny,” Gina said as she breezed past, eyes glued to her phone, “you look awful.”
No. First he would throw her off a roof. Then he would strangle her. Then he would tie her to a ceiling fan and kill her a third time, just to be sure.
Gina was constantly hunting for her niche. They’d survived door-to-door makeup, door-to-door Jesus, door-to-door meals, and door-to-door door-selling. There had been a whole parade of get-rich-quick schemes. There had Crypto Kitty Condos, luxury cardboard boxes for people’s cats, each one “blockchain-authenticated” with a QR code that linked to… nothing. The cats loved them. The investors did not. She followed that up with Essential Oil Empire tiny bottles of “Prosperity Peppermint” and “Abundance Lavender” that smelled suspiciously like the dollar store clearance rack. She even tried Ghost Hunter Gear for a hot minute, selling overpriced EMF readers and “spirit traps” to paranoid suburbanites. And who could forget Selfie Stick Stocks, Gina’s brilliant plan to buy bulk selfie sticks, rebrand them as “influencer equity tools,” and sell them at “pre-IPO prices.” The stock market never noticed. Their parents garage still did
And now this.
Speed dating.
They were in the community hall, which, thanks to Sonny’s manic decorating, actually looked pretty damn good. The response had been overwhelming. From exactly one half of the population. Gina had two choices: learn how to clone men overnight, or rope in every male she knew. Sonny felt a little bad for her. Any woman who fell in love with, say, their father was going to be shit out of luck. Well. Hopefully.
He sighed. At least it was a distraction from work.
Two weeks he’d been deep in an SVU Manhattan, and it was just like the rest. Everyone disliked him. It felt like the moment he opened his mouth and irritated someone, they would physically grab him by the shoulders, spin him around, and make sure he didn’t miss the eye-roll that followed. He was starting to suspect every precinct had its own little silver bell. Amanda barely hid her smirks. Nick sighed so deeply that tsunamis probably registered in New Zealand.
And Olivia…
Olivia, she…
She was walking into the damn hall.
What?
Fuck.
Fuck.
What was she doing here? God, had someone been attacked? Where were his sisters? His mom? He scanned the room frantically, but all he saw were half his family, various cousins, neighbours, and random delivery guys that had held eye contact for too long with Gina shuffling toward the tables while the women sized them up like livestock at auction. Nobody looked particularly in distress.
“Gina,” he hissed, catching her arm. “Is everyone okay? I--”
“Sit down, sweat-flop,” she hissed back, consulting her clipboard. “It’s beginning.”
“No, you don’t understand, I think we have a case and--”
He looked back at Olivia.
Huh.
If she was here because they caught a case she looked pretty nice… really, really nice.
Her dark hair fell in soft, swoopy waves that framed her face and brushed her shoulders. She wore a simple strappy top in a deep wine-red that showed off the smooth line of her collarbones and the subtle muscle thingy definition in her arms. There was something just fantastic going on in the chest area that he was too much of a gentleman to even think about and she wore faded jeans hugged her hips and legs perfectly. The whole look was casual, but on her it landed somewhere between “I just threw this on” and “I could ruin your life and you’d thank me.” Honestly, when God made her, He took one look at the finished product and retired right then and there. Said, ‘Nope. Can’t improve on this.’ Probably why there were so many wars, He was down in Florida, practising his golf drive.
He watched as she moved with that calm, assured stride, shoulders back, chin up, eyes taking in everything without seeming to try. She made her way over to the women’s side of the room and slid gracefully into one of the chairs.
Was she… undercover?
Because there was no way Olivia Benson was actually here for speed dating. If Olivia Benson wanted someone, all she had to do was stand on the sidewalk and whistle. There would be a Mufasa-killing stampede of men rushing toward her.
She was hot.
Like, sun-hot.
The kind of hot that made the air around her feel thicker, warmer, like standing too close to a bonfire on a summer night. The kind of hot that made Sonny forget, for one dangerous second, that he was supposed to be hating his sister right now.
He swallowed hard.
Wait.
Wait.
If she was here for speed dating… and he was here for speed dating… that meant--
“Gina, I have to go.”
“Sonny. Sonny.” Gina didn’t even look up from her clipboard. “I know you’re feeling self-conscious because your hair looks like a wet mop, you smell like a gym sock, and that pimple on your forehead is auditioning for its own spin-off. But it’s fine. You’re here for numbers, okay? Just don’t scare anyone. Be bland. Be forgettable. That’s literally all I need from you. Just be yourself.”
“You don’t understand, someone I work with is--”
“Sonny!” She finally snapped her head up, eyes blazing. “It’s starting. Now sit your ass down before I plant my foot so far up it that when you open your mouth people will compliment your pedicure. Sit!”
Sonny meekly shuffled over to his assigned table, heart hammering. He tried to adjust his sweat-damp shirt, which only made it stick worse to his back. With one hopeless hand he swooped his hair back, only for it to immediately flop forward again.
He sat.
And prayed the ground would open up and swallow him whole before the bell rang.
Sonny wasn’t exactly winning hearts and minds.
He was barely winning eye contact.
Every conversation blurred together because his gaze kept drifting five tables over to Olivia. God, she looked incredible up close. Like an Amazon who’d decided to take a casual night off from conquering nations. Those dark, coffee brown eyes. That rare yet easy, confident smile. And her jawline, okay, that was probably weird to notice, but he sort of wanted to draw it. It looked extremely satisfying to sketch. Strong, clean lines. Perfect negative space. He could shade it for hours. Once he learned how to draw.
Okay.
Okay. He thought he’d been keeping this whole thing on lockdown.
When he’d first walked into the precinct and realised his new boss was quite possibly the most beautiful woman in recorded history, he’d assumed it was some kind of twisted SVU psychological test. Oh, you’re sensitive and caring and empathetic? Perfect. Here’s a goddess. Try not to drool on the case files. Despite his tongue attempting to hit the floor, he thought he’d handled it pretty well.
And then…
Then she’d been a little mean.
And that really should have killed the crush right there and then. A normal person would have taken the hint. But Sonny’s brain, his groin, probably his spleen weren’t getting the memo. The meanness was working. He really hoped that didn’t mean he was developing some kind of submissive streak and would soon need to invest in a chest harness and a dog crate, but… yeah. He was super into it.
At work, he was fantastic, clear-headed, professional, focused. At home, surrounded by no active cases or victims, his mind occasionally wondered whether Olivia would look devastating in knee-high boots while ordering him to vacuum the living room.
Perhaps.
Maybe.
More than once.
There were definitely some wires coming loose in his head.
The short version was this: he had a complicated love-hate thing going on with Olivia Benson. He loved looking at her. He hated not looking at her.
But it was fine.
It was fine.
Crushes came and went. This one would fade eventually.
…Right?
The woman currently sitting across from him cleared her throat for the third time. Oh, God. Was she sick? He could not afford to get sick right now.
“…so yeah, as I was saying, I’m recently divorced and I’m really looking for someone who likes me for me, you know?”
“Hmm,” Sonny said, nodding absently while trying to figure out if Olivia’s shoulders were particularly edible or if that was a crazy person thought.
The woman continued, voice getting tighter. “Someone who isn’t completely wrapped up in himself all the time so they actually see me when I’m talking.”
He bet the skin would be so smooth. And that she’d take charge in bed, maybe… maybe grab his hair a little.
Oh.
Wow.
“Uh yeah. Totally.”
“Someone who doesn’t have that whole emo bangs thing going on and isn’t, like, rude as hell.”
“Me too, me too.”
The little silver bell rang. Thank God.
The woman opposite him shot him a look that could have curdled milk. She snatched her scorecard and scribbled something down so aggressively the pen nearly tore the paper. Sonny caught a glimpse of what she wrote: “NO. HARD NO. RUN.”
What was her problem? He’d agreed with everything she said.
As she stood up and stormed off to the next table, Sonny slouched lower in his chair and risked another glance at Olivia.
She was laughing at something her current date was saying, a tall, tall, tall, annoyingly put-together tree who probably owned a hairbrush and knew how to hold a conversation without fantasising about sketching someone’s mandible.
This was hell. This was decorated, bell-ringing, playlist-curated hell.
And he still had four more rounds to survive.
Betty stopped talking halfway through her sentence and just sat there glaring at him like he’d cancelled her favourite show. Cherry cried the entire three minutes. Jin was sweet, but she basically patted his hand and said “bless your heart” in the tone people use right before they block your number. Edna was old enough to be his grandmother. She took one look at him, muttered “you look Italian,” whatever the hell that meant, folded her arms, and spent the rest of the round staring at the wall.
And then… then his three minutes with Olivia arrived.
Olivia slid into the chair across from him with an easy distracted smile, looked down at her scorecard, froze for a moment, and slowly raised her eyes.
“Carisi?”
Sonny gave her a tiny, mortified wave. “Hey, Lieu.”
Her face went pale. She glanced around the room in wide eyed horror. “Is… is it just you?”
“Munch is at the next table.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’m kidding,” Sonny said quickly, hands up. “It’s my sister. She’s running this thing. Um… hi.”
“You shaved your moustache?”
Gina had practically held him down and tore it off him, but sure. Shaved.
“Yeah, it was time for a change.”
“Oh. You look… different.” Her cheeks were a little redder now, which somehow made her look even more unfairly beautiful. “Hello. Right. Okay.”
“I know. I know,” Sonny rushed, hands up. “I saw you the second you walked in and I just… panicked. I should’ve warned you.”
“And you didn’t?” Olivia let out a short, embarrassed laugh and covered her eyes with one hand. “Jesus, Carisi. Of all the community halls in all the boroughs…”
“I know. Look, we don’t have to… attempt the date or anything. We can just talk about work if you want.” He tapped the table nervously. “So, uh… any updates on John Doe’s head?”
“Carisi.” Olivia spread her fingers just enough to peek at him. “I do not want to talk about decapitation right now.”
“That’s exactly what Betty said.”
“Oh my God.”
“You can tell me, though. It’s fine.”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me what you’re doing here?”
Olivia blinked. “I just feel there should be enough context cues for a trained detective, Carisi.”
“Yeah, okay. I know but… Okay -- don’t take this the wrong way.”
“Jesus. I’m already braced.”
“But why are you here, really?” He leaned forward, voice dropping. “Is someone in this room on our radar? I won’t blow your cover, I swear.”
Olivia stared at him for a long moment. “Believe it or not, Carisi, I’m a human being who would like a little connection now and then. I’m not a complete workaholic.”
Sonny made a small, skeptical wavy motion with his hand.
Her jaw twitched. “Thanks. Thank you, new guy. Really got me all figured out, huh?”
Oh no. She looked angry.
Oh no. That was still extremely hot.
What the hell was wrong with him?
“I didn’t mean-- I just meant it’s clear you’re dedicated. That’s all. And… plus the other thing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What other thing?”
“You know.” He gestured vaguely at her. “All of… that.”
“No, Carisi, why don’t you enlighten me?”
He swallowed hard. “It’s just… you’re the most beautiful woman in the room. In every room. Hell, I suspect in most states. Possibly continents.” He winced. “I’m not being a creep. I know that’s exactly what a creep would say, but this is cold, hard, scientific fact.”
She continued to stare and, shit, his vocal chords were still throwing insane things on the conveyor belt to his tongue.
“Lieu, you’re smart, powerful, gorgeous, and kind of a legend. It’s genuinely confusing to me that you can’t just snap your fingers and have whoever you want land in your lap. So yeah… it made more sense that you were here because someone’s a killer.” He pointed across the room. “Is it him? I bet it’s him.”
It was his cousin Angello who most definitely had some skeletons in his closet. Literal.
Olivia gave a surprised snort of laughter, her shoulders relaxing a little. “No. No killer.” She fiddled with her scorecard, suddenly looking almost shy. “I… maybe I do work too much.”
He raised an eyebrow. Somehow she saw it under all the hair and snorted again. It was deeply unfair how even her snorting was delightful. She could probably make spitting look demure.
Maybe… maybe into his mouth?
Sonny. Be normal.
“Okay fine. I do work too much. It’s hard to do the regular dating thing. My friend sent me the link and I just thought… why the hell not?” She shrugged. “Of course now I’m mortified, but…”
“Trust me, Lieu. There isn’t a man in this room who didn’t want to rip that little clapper out of the bell the second you sat down.” He pointed at Mr. Tall. “Look at him, he is already on his phone looking up nearby churches and setting up a registry.”
“Don’t… don’t call me Lieu. Not here.” She looked away for a beat, then glanced back with the tiniest curved smile. “And… thanks. I could’ve used your cheerleading when I was standing in front of my closet trying to pick an outfit.”
His brain immediately supplied a vivid, unhelpful montage: Olivia naked, rifling through hangers, while he sat on the edge of her bed offering enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Not just the thumb.
Goddamnit. Be normal.
“It’s true… Liv?”
“Liv is fine.” She paused, suddenly looking awkward in a way he’d never seen before. Her eyes flicked to his hair. “I like the… teenager-mad-at-his-parents hair.”
“Don’t. Seriously. I know it’s bad.”
“It’s… it’s cute, actually.”
Cute.
Olivia Benson had just called him cute. He could die immediately. Sure, he would’ve preferred “sexy,” “handsome,” “devastating,” or “chiselled,” but “cute” was still miles better than “you make me want to vomit into my purse.”
Sonny felt his face heat up. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool and failing spectacularly. “Well… thanks. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all night. Most of the feedback I’ve gotten has been nonverbal screaming.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Olivia said, glancing around the room. “You’re surprisingly the most eligible person here. Except him.” She nodded across the hall. “He’s quite handsome.”
“Oh, that’s my dad.”
She turned to him, genuinely confused. “Oh. Right. Well… maybe you’ll get a new stepmom out of this?”
His brain immediately yanked open its pervert bag and started flinging out vivid, extremely unhelpful images it had found on Pornhub. Sonny mentally kicked it shut.
“Probably not,” he said quickly. “My mom would kill him.” He pointed across the room where she was circulating with a tray of drinks. “Gina didn’t exactly get the male turnout she expected tonight.”
Olivia’s lips twitched. “Right. So… is anyone here actually available?”
Sonny pointed toward the back. “That guy, Gig, over there is very single.”
Olivia turned and gave the man an appreciative once-over.
“He’s also very gay,” Sonny added helpfully.
Olivia sighed and looked back at him. “You’re really bad at this.”
“Don’t blame me! If it helps I don’t know who that tall dude you were with earlier is. There’s a distinct possibility my sister found him in a bush, hosed him down and put a suit on him, but… one for the maybe pile?”
She rolled her eyes and turned fully back toward him. “What about you? Any women here you’ve got your eye on?”
There were other women here?”
“No, I mean-- uh, not really,” he said quickly. “I’m as single as they come. Possibly why Gig slipped me his number earlier.”
“So…” She twirled a finger in the air. “This isn’t really your scene? Desperate women throwing themselves at a young, red-blooded male like you?”
Sonny sighed and looked down at the table for a second. “I’m not exactly a player, Liv. Never have been. When I like someone, I tend to… fall all the way in. No half-measures.”
She smiled, softer this time. “I can actually believe that. The precinct’s full of brooding detectives polishing their Raymond Chandler lines in the corner, and then there’s you -- getting dressed by songbirds every morning.”
Sonny flushed bright red. “I know you all think I’m a joke, but--”
“I didn’t mean it badly.”.
“No, you’re right. Most men love being compared to Disney princesses.”
“I like it, Carisi. It’s… refreshing.” She made a small, vague gesture with her hand. “You bring a different perspective. You bring hope back into that squad room. I just...I don't want this job to knock it out of you.” Her voice quieted. “You deserve better than coming home to another microwaved dinner for one and being too tired to even eat it.”
Sonny frowned. “Is that what you do?”
Olivia let out a short laugh, but there was no real humour in it. “Kind of a second-date question, isn’t it? Ask me on the next round.” She shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t even bother with the microwave.”
“I know the job takes everything,” he said carefully, “but maybe dating another cop? Or a lawyer? Someone who gets the hours?”
“Cops, lawyers, judges, bailiffs…” She trailed off with a tired sigh. “Yeah. Been there, tried that. Trust me. No one likes feeling like they’re second best to... well.”
“Then every single one of them was an idiot,” Sonny said without thinking. “I’d be happy just to place.”
Fuck.
That was way too much.
He could feel his ears burning crimson. He opened his mouth to apologise, but Olivia wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even amused. She looked… a little pink around the ears herself.
“Okay,” he said, swallowing hard. “Let’s make a deal. I won’t turn into one of those TV detectives with three divorces, a receeding hairline, and a bottle of scotch on the shelf where the wedding photo used to be. And you…” He pointed at her gently. “You stop dating people who can’t handle that you’re a storybook hero who has to slay dragons before she can even think about catching the new Anne Hathaway movie.”
Her lips twitched into a genuine smile. “Wow. You’re gonna break some hearts when you actually put your mind to it, Carisi.”
Maybe it was because he’d been bounced around more precincts than Al Capone. Maybe it was the way she was looking at him, really looking, with that small, curious smile. Or maybe he had been born missing half his brain. His mouth opened: “I wouldn’t break yours.”
Oh God.
That wasn’t smooth. That was clinical insanity.
Sonny blinked rapidly, trying to look cool and calm and not like he was oh-fucking himself to death.
Olivia blinked back, momentarily stunned. Then the corner of her mouth curved higher.
“Carisi…” she said slowly, almost teasing, “I’m old enough to be your…aunt.”
“I mean it, though. You’re… You’re incredible, Liv.”
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
“Carisi--”
“I think you’re extraordinary.” The sentence tumbled out of his mouth, landed on the table and turned round and looked at him in horror. Might as well send some friends out to join it. Why the fuck not? Not like his brain was being consulted by any of this.
"Carisi--"
"No, seriously. Like, if you looked up the word 'extraordinary' in the dictionary, you'd be a moron, because you'd be wasting valuable basking in the presence of Olivia Benson time."
"Carisi, wait--"
"The... the kind of extraordinary that stops me in my tracks every single day. You move through a doorway and it’s like God walked into the room. You’re brilliant, strong, compassionate… and so damn beautiful it’s honestly unfair to the rest of the world.” He gave a small smile, hands opening helplessly in front of him. “I know this is probably crossing every line, and I swear I’m not trying to make things weird between us. But if I thought, even for a second, that I had the slightest chance with you… three minutes of your time a day would be more than enough for me. Just to be near you.” He licked at his lips, suddenly insanely dry. “I just… I think about you. A lot. More than I probably should. And that’s all. That’s everything.” He cleared his throat. “But I understand if you want to transfer me. Or… report me. Or have me executed. Because of all of this.”
Olivia stared at him for a long moment, her expression completely unreadable.
He coughed and drummed his fingers on the table. “You know. I bet John Doe’s head is probably in the river. That’s where I’d put a head. If… if I had a head that I needed to not … have.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. What had he done? Why the hell had he said any… any of that?
“Carisi, I…”
The bell rang sharply, signalling the end of their turn. She didn’t move right away, for half a second she lingered, eyes still locked on his. Then she stood slowly.
“I better go.”
“Yeah,” Sonny said, voice quiet. “Sure. Um… good luck with the rest.”
“Carisi?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t tell anyone at the precinct about this. Ever.”
He smiled, sheepish and a little heartbroken. “Your secret’s safe with me, Liv.”
She gave him one last lingering look, then nodded and moved toward the next table.
Sonny slumped back in his chair, exhaling like he’d just run a marathon.
Well.
Looks like he might be packing his desk on Monday.
“What do you mean I didn’t get anyone?” asked Sonny again.
Gina didn’t even look up from her clipboard. “You’re a creep, apparently. Also, Alice wrote a helpful little note asking me to call the police. What on earth did you say to that poor woman?”
Sonny groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “God. Not one?”
“No, but dad’s… well, we might need to break some news to mom.”
“Can you check again?”
“Sonny, what can I say? You’re horrific to look at and even worse to talk to. Thanks for helping out by the way.”
No one? That was a blow. A surprisingly sharp one.
He wasn’t stupid, he hadn’t expected anything from Olivia. He had embarrassed them both with that word vomit. But just one little match. One scrap of paper to bandage the old ego before he went home and sobbed quietly into his pillow. Was that really too much to ask?
“You staying to help tidy up, right?” Gina asked without looking at him.
Great. Unpaid manual labour, self caused humiliation and unemployment. Truly a perfect night.
Gina waved at Jin, who was walking out hand-in-hand with the tall, annoyingly handsome tree from earlier. As she turned back, she dropped one of the remaining cards, muttered a curse, and bent to pick it up.
“Oh wait,” she said, straightening. “Helen Keller must have swung by after a severe head injury.”
“What?”
She handed him the card. It was covered in high scores, 9s and 10s across attraction, conversation, chemistry, humour, and “would see again.” There was no name at the top.
Sonny flipped it over and there, in neat, confident handwriting, was a phone number.
No.
Surely not?
Maybe it was Edna? Maybe she’d had a change of heart and decided Italians were actually fantastic. Maybe she wanted to spread him on her focaccia. It had to be that, because it couldn’t be her.
It couldn’t.
Or could… it?
Sonny scanned the room frantically, heart hammering against his ribs. Most people were already drifting toward the exit, laughing and chatting, but then he spotted her: Olivia, slipping out the main door and into the night.
“Gene, I gotta go--”
“What? No! I can’t reach the banners by myself, and I’m sooooo tired and I was literally just about to--”
He didn’t hear the rest. He was already running.
“Liv -- wait!”
He weaved desperately through the crowd, dodging folding chairs, abandoned scorecards, and a few lingering guests who shot him strange looks. By the time he burst outside, the sidewalk was empty under the glow of the streetlights.
“Damn it…”
Breathing hard, he fumbled his phone out of his pocket with shaky fingers and dialed the number. It rang once, twice, and then he heard it, a no nonsense real ringtone cutting through the night air, coming from just a few yards away.
He turned quickly on his heel.
Olivia was leaning casually against the lamppost, the warm light above catching in her swoopy dark hair. Her phone was still glowing softly in her hand as she looked over at him with a smile.
“Walk me home?” she asked.
Sonny’s grin broke wide across his face. “Yeah,” he said, stepping toward her without hesitation. “Yeah, I’d like that. A lot.”
He fell into step beside her as they started down the street.
Maybe Gina had found her niche after all.