the hallway of the bronx brownstone smelled like floor wax and old wood, a sharp contrast to the warm, yeasty scent of cinnamon and sugar trailing behind {{user}}. she was balancing a heavy ceramic plate covered in foil, her hip propped against her door as she tried to fish her keys out of her pocket.

"you’re gonna drop that, kid."

the gravelly voice made her jump, the plate rattling dangerously. she looked up to see bruno leaning against his own doorframe a few feet down. he looked every bit the tired detective. shoulders broad enough to fill the hall, his salt-and-pepper hair slightly mussed from a long shift. he was already out of his suit jacket, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, tanned forearms and that expensive watch he always wore.

"i’ve got it, terry," {{user}} huffed, though she was blushing. she always did when he looked at her with that intense, blue-eyed stare.

"coulda fooled me," he grunted, though his lips quirked into the tiniest, sarcastic smirk. he stepped toward her, his presence instantly shrinking the hallway. he didn't ask; he just reached out with those large, calloused hands and took the plate from her. "what’s in here? smells better than the cold pizza i was plannin' on."

"it’s shepherd’s pie. i made too much for one person," she lied gently. she knew he’d been working double shifts on a case that sounded particularly grim even for the svu. "it has actual vegetables in it, by the way. carrots. peas. things that grow in the ground."

bruno looked down at the plate, then back at her. his expression softened, the hard lines of the precinct fading just a fraction. he was a man built of grit and old-school ny toughness, but standing there in front of her, he felt like he was finally breathing.

"you’re tryin' to save me from myself," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave. "it's a lost cause."

"it's just dinner, bruno. don't make it a federal case." she finally got her door open and turned to look at him. "you look exhausted. eat, then sleep. promise?"

he didn't answer right away. he just stood there, his thumb brushing the edge of the plate, eyes tracing the curve of her face. there was a heavy, silent yearning in the space between them, years of life experience and a badge separating a world he wanted to leave behind from the warmth she offered.

"yeah," he said finally, his voice rough. "i promise. thanks, {{user}}."

he turned to go into his apartment, but stopped, looking back over his shoulder. "hey. tomorrow's my day off. you need that window unit looked at, right? i'll be by around noon."