Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Dick Wolf.

Author's note: This takes place sometime around season 3/4. Obviously A/O, and told from Olivia's point of view. Enjoy!

I wonder if she knows what she does to me. I sit in court, preoccupied with those striking blue eyes, brought out by her cerulean shirt; that golden hair, wondering what it would feel like to run my fingers through it. Like silk, probably. Soft and beautiful and feather-light.

She's asked me a question and I haven't heard it, and when I ask her to repeat it, she smirks a little. I wonder if I'm imagining it, or if she knows exactly what she's doing to me – and is enjoying every second of it.

I stutter out an answer, and her smug smile widens. She turns and saunters back to her seat, and I can't keep my eyes off her perfect body.

Alex, I want to tell her. You need to let me do my job. And I can't put rapists in prison when I can't stop staring at your ass. You're too good at distracting me!

To which she would smile sweetly and say, "Who, me?" batting her eyelashes innocently. And I would be rendered speechless, unable to argue the point. That is what she does to me.

Langan walks toward the witness stand, presumably to cross examine me, but I can't take my eyes off Alex. She is so beautiful. When she's pristinely put together. When she's reducing child molesters to jelly at her feet. When she's trying to be casual. When she's downright tipsy at Meloni's after a few drinks. Hell, when she's just gotten out of bed, she's absolutely breathtaking.

"Detective?"

I force myself to focus on Langan. I can find some excuse to drop by the DA's office and ogle her for hours later . . . or tomorrow . . . or the next day. I have one chance at putting Marcus Wilkenson, a.k.a. the Greenwich Stalker, in prison, and I can't blow it.

I answer Langan's questions, and I'm almost relieved when he finishes and I'm allowed to leave.

Elliot's waiting for me outside the courtroom and gives me a low whistle. "Subtle, Liv. Very subtle."

I glare at him. "Shut up."

"Could you have been any more obvious that you were more focused on Cabot's ass than the questions Langan was asking? He had to repeat his first question three times."

I quirk an eyebrow. "Well, she does have a particularly nice ass."

Elliot chuckles. "Do yourself a favor and let me testify next time."

I roll my eyes. "I think she likes torturing me."

"We have that in common," he says seriously.

"Yeah. If I get to the car first, you're taking a cab."

"In that case, I'll have the perfect excuse to go home early. It's Kathleen's birthday tomorrow and I haven't gotten her a gift yet."

"Go ahead. I'll cover for you."

"You just want to get rid of me."

"True."

He smirks. "You going to ask Cabot out tonight?"

"Maybe."

"Right. You can tell me all about it tomorrow."

"Yeah, well, don't count on it."

"I won't."

"Even if I asked her out, I don't think she'd come." There's a tinge of sadness in my voice, one that I wish wasn't there. I don't want Elliot to start feeling sorry for me. That isn't the point.

"Why wouldn't she?"

"Uh, let's see. Because she's straight?"

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"Both."

"Liv, as your partner – I love you like a sister, but I don't think any man or woman would pass up a date with you."

I lightly punch his shoulder. "Hey, don't be getting all sentimental on me. Go home and spend some time with those kids of yours. It's about time they see your ugly mug."

Elliot smiles. "Don't need to tell me twice."

As I'm driving back to the precinct, I actually consider what Elliot's said. I could ask Alex out, really. The worst she could say is no. Would that really be the end of the world?

Yes. Yes, it would really be the end of the world. I'm not sure if I love her – honestly, I don't know her well enough to be able to say that. But I think I can love her, if she lets me. I'm infatuated with her at the very least. But why would someone like her want someone like me? I'm just an overworked, underpaid detective whose personal life is practically nonexistent.

She likes to tease me. I mean, Elliot likes to tease me, but Alex takes it to the next level. The way she sashays across a room, purposefully swinging her hips, because she knows it drives me crazy. The way she tosses her hair. The way she adjusts those wonderfully sexy glasses of hers. The way she sits just an inch too close and wears skirts just an inch too short land lets them ride up, revealing just an inch of her beautiful, milky white thighs. I'd like to say she's flirting with me, but she could just be mocking me, knowing that I'm besotted with her, and she goes home every day and has a good laugh at my expense.

I drive in circles around the DA's office for half an hour, trying to work up the courage to ask her out. I can do it, really. I almost laugh at the irony of it; I'm out 24 hours a day most days, chasing scum and throwing them in jail, and I'm fearless. But I'm terrified to ask Alexandra Cabot out on a date.

By the time I finally work up the courage, it's 5:30, and Alex has already gone home. Fail.

So what can I do? I turn the car around and go home, too. Tomorrow, I decide. Tomorrow I'll do it.

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