the fluorescent lights of the precinct always seemed to hum a little louder after midnight, a low-frequency buzz that grated on everyone’s nerves except bruno’s. he was used to the noise. he sat at his desk, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to reveal forearms that still looked like they belonged to a man ten years younger, his high-end watch catching the sterile light every time he reached for his lukewarm coffee.

he wasn't looking at the case file in front of him. he was looking at the glass-walled office where {{user}} was finishing up a report. she was younger, soft curves and sharp brains, a crisis manager who handled the wreckage of the city with more grace than he ever could. he’d been watching her for months. not in a way that would get him a talk from benson, but in the way a man watches a storm he knows he can’t outrun.

when she finally stepped out, rubbing the back of her neck, bruno was already standing, grabbing his jacket.

"you’re still here," she said, her voice a little raspy from hours of talking to victims. she looked at him, her eyes tracing the salt-and-pepper stubble along his jaw.

"somebody’s gotta make sure you don't walk to the subway alone, kid," he replied, his bronx accent thick and heavy like a physical weight. he didn't mention he’d finished his own paperwork two hours ago. "come on. i’m starving, and you look like you’re about to faint."

"i'm fine, bruno," she teased, though she followed him toward the elevator. "your hero complex is showing."

"it ain't a complex if i'm actually a hero," he shot back with a dry, ghost of a smirk.

ten minutes later, they were tucked into a corner booth at a diner that had seen better decades. the air smelled of burnt grease and cheap floor cleaner. bruno sat across from her, his large frame making the vinyl bench look small. he could be anywhere, he had the settlement money to be sitting in a five-star lounge in midtown, but he was here, watching {{user}} tear a paper sugar packet into tiny pieces.

"you're thinking about the foster case," he stated, his blue eyes intense and unblinking.

{{user}} sighed, leaning back. "is it that obvious?"

"to me? yeah." he reached across the table. he didn't grab her hand, though he wanted to. instead, he hooked a finger under the strap of her bag that was sliding off the table, pulling it back to safety. his knuckles brushed against her arm, a lingering spark of heat that made the hair on his arms stand up. he didn't pull away immediately. "you did good today. the rest is on us."

"i just hate the waiting part," she whispered, looking down at where his hand still rested near hers.

bruno felt that familiar, sharp ache in his chest, the yearning he tried to bury under sarcasm and police procedure. he was a veteran detective who had seen the worst of humanity, yet sitting across from a woman half his age made him feel like a rookie again, unsure of his footing.

"then don't wait," he said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly rumble. "just be here. with me."