Angst – Zu jung (Für's Team)

[servena]

Titel: Handsy
Team: Machine
Challenge: Angst – Zu jung (Für's Team)
Fandom: Den of Thieves, SVU
Charactere: Olivia Benson, Benny “Borracho” Magalon, Original Female Character
Sprache: Englisch
Warnings: Sexual Harassment (sort of), Age Differences/Power Dynamics, bisschen Smut am Ende
Wörter: 2.400
Kommentar: Ich bin mir vollkommen bewusst, dass Den of Thieves in LA spielt und SVU in New York. Das ist mir aber egal, denn ich wollte Olivia als POV-Charakter hierfür. Und sowieso ist jedes Fandom-Wissen hier wieder mal vollkommen unnötig (guckt den Film nicht, er ist nicht gut).

“You know this qualifies for sexual harassment, right?” Olivia says without a preamble as soon as she’s shut the door.

Handsy

She’s never liked the guys from Major Crimes. They always behaved like they were kings of the street, like the law was written for other people, and sometimes the only thing that made them different from the gangsters they were hunting was the fact that they could flash a badge when they needed to. “Big” Nick O’Brien, their boss, was the worst of them all.
So she’s not surprised when one of his guys, Benny “Borracho” Magalon (seriously, where were they getting these nicknames?), rolls into her office on a Monday morning and confirms every cliché to a tee: Slicked-back hair, rough, greying beard and tatted up to his neck. He drops into a chair without waiting to be offered one and looks at her like she’s an especially annoying schoolteacher. She can smell the cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes all the way on the other side of her desk.
What surprises her is the rookie that trails in after him. She’s young, pretty, and dressed for the office, if that office would be part of a high-end investment firm in the financial district. Her makeup is spot-on and there’s not a hair out of place. If Olivia knows anything about Big Nick’s team, she can be certain that the new girl stands out among his guys like a sore thumb.
“Get me a coffee, will you, querida?”, Magalon says without turning around. She nods and disappears out of the door without a word.
She doesn’t know this guy, but she already wants to throttle him. This is going to be a long week.

At first she considers that the girl is being punished, but what horrible sin could she have already commited to be transferred into a team like that? Maybe somebody at HR has a special sense of humour. As it turns out, the problem doesn’t seem to be her work ethic or her skills with a computer, because she dredges up information other people would take months to find.
“What you got for me, mami?”, Borracho asks as she walks through the door of their improvised command centre, and she drops a whole stack of papers on the table in front of him. He smiles. “Good girl.”
If this had been Olivia, this would have earned him a slap, but the girl just rolls her eyes like she’s hearing this every day – which maybe she is.

But it’s not only the casual remarks that make Olivia’s blood boil. He’s also handsy with her. Never as offending as a slap to the butt, but certainly way more than is appropriate, especially given that he has to be twenty years her senior – a hand on the shoulder, running his fingers over her arm, putting his hand on her lower back when she steps out of a room in front of him. Once she catches him tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ears as he stands behind her to look at her computer screen. It takes everything in her not to pull him into her office right then and there. But he’s not her guy and she doesn’t have any power over him.

Instead, it takes her the rest of the day to manoeuvre the girl into a room with herself alone.
“You know this qualifies for sexual harassment, right?” Olivia says without a preamble as soon as she’s shut the door.
The girl seems surprised. “You mean Borracho?” she says and sets the files she’s been holding down onto a free desk.
“Of course I mean him.” Olivia takes a deep breath to steady herself. If she comes on too strong, she’ll just overwhelm her. “Listen, if you need any witnesses, I can help you. I have at least three detectives with eyes out there. And I know these things usually don’t amount to much, I’m realistic, but it might at least get you a transfer.”
The girl surprises her again by saying: “I don’t want a transfer.”
“You don’t?”
She’s started to fiddle with a strand of hair that somehow has come loose from her perfect ponytail. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, I really do, but it isn’t necessary.”
“Mia, he’s putting his hands on you”, she says softly.
“Don’t worry about him, I can handle him.”
“You shouldn’t need to.”
“I’m fine, really.” She smiles. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one.”
She moves to leave, but stops at the door for a moment. “But still – thank you. For looking out for me. It really means a lot.”
When the door closes behind her, Olivia feels like she’s lost a battle.
But maybe not the war.

She’s reminded of Mia’s comment the very next day when they finally get a lead to follow up on. They spill out of the building into the grey daylight of the parking lot, where she is witness to a discussion between the two colleagues.
The two of them have stopped in front of an old station wagon that has seen better days which she figures has to be Magalon’s, because she cannot imagine Mia driving anything that’s not in peak condition. Borracho moves for the driver’s door, but Mia blocks his way and holds out her hand. “I’m driving.”
“This is my car!”, he says, confirming her suspicions.
“And you were absolutely hammered last night, so you’re not driving anywhere if I can help it.”
“I drove myself here this morning.”
“Bad enough. Keys.” She looks at him expectantly, and to Olivia’s surprise he finally reaches into the pocket of his jeans with a sigh and puts the keys into her waiting hand.
“Don’t put any dents into it, this is my baby.”
She thinks Mia’s disbelieving huff is exactly the correct reaction to that.

Her amusement is only increased when they arrive at their destination to see Magalon lean against the passenger’s side of the parked car to light himself a cigarette, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “Can’t even smoke in my own fucking car.”

The more time she’s spent with them, the more she thinks that maybe her first impression was – not wrong, exactly, but - incomplete. Because Borracho is still being entirely inappropriate more often than not, but sometimes he’s actually being nice. Like when he walks over to Starbucks to get Mia a coffee.
After spending almost a week in the man’s vicinity, she’s completely certain that he only drinks black coffee and that he doesn’t really care where it comes from, as long as it’s hot. And yet when Mia’s answer to his casual “You want a coffee, gatita?” is “Yeah, get me a Venti Iced Brown Sugar Frappucchino with Oat Milk”, he just shrugs and says: “Alright.”
“You need me to write that down, old man?”, she yells after him, but he just gives her the finger before he walks out the door.
He reappears fifteen minutes later carrying two Starbucks cups, one of which containing, she suspects, the Starbucks equivalent of black coffee. He slides the other wordlessly over the table at her and she immediately takes a sip. She doesn’t complain, so he must have gotten it right.

In their line of business, there are certain requirements for going undercover. Most importantly, you have to look the part. For Borracho, being a Hispanic male, somewhat muscular and covered in ink, this isn’t anything to think about. But when Mia says she wants to go with him, Olivia has some doubts.
“Two cops on the ground are more than enough. And it’s important that we don’t draw unwanted attention”, she says as she eyes Mia’s business attire.
“Don’t worry”, Mia says, “I have a change of clothes.”
Whatever she was expecting, this wasn’t it. When Mia walks back into the room, she looks like a completely different person. Her hair is open for the first time since she’s met her, falling in long waves down her back. She has changed her makeup to something more bold, accentuating the form of her eyes and the fullness of her lips. And she’s wearing a crop top and a skirt that barely covers her ass.
The whole room is paying attention to her, but nobody says anything. But right next to her, Bocharro whistles and drags her eyes down her body in very open appreciation.
“Okay”, Olivia says, “I take it back.”

Olivia feels a bit too old to pull off the miniskirt (not that she wanted to), so she sits in the dingy van and watches the cameras. Finn has entered the bar together with Borracho and Mia, so she feels pretty confident in this operation despite the circumstances. It’s the guys’ job to get the suspects to talk while Mia is supposed to be their eyes and ears.
She was worried how the girl would be treated, but Borracho keeps her close and tracks her with his eyes whenever she walks over to the bar to get some more beer. He’s playing the jealous boyfriend pretty well, she thinks with a mix of appreciation and apprehension. Mia and him drink from the same bottle, and when more company arrives, he quickly makes space for the newcomers by pulling her onto one of his legs, steadying her with a hand on her waist. That hand doesn’t move anywhere else for the rest of the evening, as she can clearly tell through Finn’s body camera. Sometimes she leans close to him and whispers something in his ear, so low that his mic doesn’t pick it up.
When the bar finally closes and the last groups of people on the sidewalk dissolve into the night, Olivia pulls Mia aside next to the van. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” She smiles. “Bit buzzed, maybe. Did you get all of that?”
“Yep, we’ve got a nice little recording we can serve the DA for breakfast tomorrow.”
“Nice.” She shivers a bit in a cold breeze and pulls Magalon’s jacket tighter across her shoulders. “Let’s get the hell out of here, I’m freezing my ass off.”

They drive the van back to the precinct, where they leave everyone to pick up their own cars. But Olivia actually walks up to the office and quickly fills out the necessary forms for tomorrow, because she knows from experience she’s too wired to get to sleep immediately anyway. Nothing like a bit of paperwork to help with that.
When she finally turns off the last of the lights and steps back outside, Magalon’s station wagon is still sitting in the parking lot. A bad feeling settles in her gut, which is confirmed when she walks quietly towards her own car, which is parked a bit further away, and sees two figures standing next to the wagon. A nearby streetlamp is illuminating them amidst a sea of darkness.
Mia is leaning against the driver’s door where he crowds her in with his bigger stature, with one hand braced on the metal behind her head. His other hand is pushing up her skirt and running over her naked thigh underneath.
She’s said she’s buzzed, Olivia thinks, and he’s taking advantage of that. She is fucking furious. She’ll make certain he loses his badge and spends the rest of his career as a guard in a warehouse or something.
She steps a little closer, still quiet, trying to decide what to do, until she can hear Magalon’s voice. “Fuck, what are you doing to me, cariña. Driving me crazy all day with this fucking outfit, and I couldn’t even touch you.”
“You did touch me”, she says. She sounds breathless, but coherent, and Olivia stops in her tracks.
“Not like this. Fuck, look at you. Everybody was staring at you when you walked in. They all wanted you, but they can’t have you. You’re just for me, querida.”
“That’s right.” She sighs as he shifts his stance and pushes one of his legs between hers.
He leans in closer, his mouth next to her ear. “So beautiful, bonita”, he mumbles.  “Always beautiful, no matter what you wear.” He sounds wrecked, even though they’re both still wearing all their clothes as far as she can tell.
She shoves him playfully. “You gonna talk me to death here, old man?”
He huffs a laugh. “Always so impatient.” Then he leans down and kisses her.
And as Mia arches into the touch, the coin finally drops for Olivia – they’ve done this before. They’re too familiar with each other for this to be the first time. And suddenly every interaction between them she witnessed is recontextualized – all the looks and the comments and the little touches – not unwanted sexual attention at all, but the signs of an ongoing affair where only one half was attempting to be professional.
It’s still wrong. Apart from the fact that they’re colleagues, Borracho is still very much her senior, even if he isn’t her boss. Does Big Nick know about this? Who is she kidding, if he does, he probably doesn’t give a shit.
And Mia – Mia is young and beautiful and could have almost every guy her own age – why she would waste her time with someone as aggravating as Magalon is a complete mystery to her, even if he’s not that bad-looking.
And still – when Magalon goes to his knees and finally puts his mouth where Mia really wants it and she makes a sound full of pure, unrestrained pleasure, crying out “Benny, please!”, she almost gets it. Maybe he’s just really good at this. He’s had lots of time to gather experience after all.
Quietly, very quietly, she steps away, ducking deep into the shadows until she’s reached her car at the other end of the parking lot. When she sits behind the steering wheel, she needs a moment to collect herself.
Maybe she won’t say anything about this. Maybe she’ll pretend this never happened. Maybe she’ll just wish Mia well and hope she knows what she’s doing. Tomorrow the case will be closed and both of them will be out of her hair. It will no longer be her problem.
And fuck Big Nick and Major Crimes.

Comments

[der_jemand]

*_____*
Oh, ich maaaag eine gute Outsider-Perspektive! Und Olivias funktioniert so, so gut.
Der Kontrast zwischen dem was sie leider erwarten muss und der Realität trifft hier einfach richtig gut. — Und ich mag Mia. :)

Also: laughing out loud funny in parts, aber das weißt du. =D

[failte-aoife.livejournal.com]

Maybe she’ll pretend this never happened

Valid reaction XD Und das gefällt mir sehr. Auch ziemlich ohne Fandom Wissen. Also außer Olivia.

[servena]

Niemand muss Den of Thieves gesehen haben, der Film ist nicht gut (und mein Boy hat nur zehn Lines).
Aber es freut mich, dass es auch ohne Kontext Spaß gemacht hat! :D