Sonny was smiling at you, a smug grin plastered across his face as he leaned against the evidence board.
You groaned, tensing in your chair while trying to tune out the “oohs” and amused clapping of the squad.
“Stop that” you warned the lanky, Italian detective, who looked quite content with himself, smirking at you with a mischievous look in his eyes.
Sonny faked confusion, shaking his head side to side. “Stop what? I have no idea what you mean.”
“Doing that thing with your face when you’re happy. It’s making me nauseous.”
“Oh, and why would I be happy? Maybe it’s because I won the bet.” He laughed, folding his arms over his chest.
It was no secret that you were incredibly competitive, so when Sonny bragged about his lucky streak with successful confessions, you challenged him that you could get more. Over the past six months, the two of you all but fought for the chance to question perps, albeit to Benson’s distaste. However, both of your numbers had steadily increased, and so there really wasn’t much room for her to comment on your behaviors.
You internally chastised yourself for even suggesting this bet in the first place, although it seemed appealing at the time. If you had won, Sonny had to wear a different costume to work each day of the week. Monday was supposed to be overalls and a straw hat, Tuesday tights and a tutu, Wednesday a clown nose and wig, and so on and so forth.
However, If Sonny won, you had to take him as your plus one to your best friend’s upcoming wedding and let him embarrass you as much as possible without any complaint or intervention. Sonny already showed you a picture of the sequined purple suit he planned to rent, and a draft of the toast he was going to drunkenly give. “I’ve been practicing crying on the spot.” He previously boasted. “I just haven’t decided which would be better, a few, theatrical tears rolling down my cheek, or like full on, red faced, choking on air sobs?”
You had declined to comment on that one.
In actuality, it had been a long time since you had seen Sonny this happy. If you were being honest, Sonny had seemed a bit off prior to your bet, and it was as if the incentive to win threw him back into alignment, back into his previously steady rhythm of flawlessly comforting vics and collaring perps.
So you hid a smile of your own under your mask of annoyance, rolling your eyes as Sonny glided over to you.
“Aw, don’t look so torn up.” He bent his long frame over to rest his elbows on your cluttered desk. “Besides, we could make another bet. Although, I’d hate for you to lose twice in a row.”
Your ears perked up at the chance of redemption. Concealing your curiosity, you turned your body toward him, cocking an eyebrow.
“And just what would this bet be?”
“I bet that by the end of next weekend, you’ll be in love with me.”
SVU addict 