#the pearls AND the chest hair AND the makeup AND the scruffy beard all in HQ?

[kindahoping4forever]

Luke @ The 5SOS Show Tour Rio de Janeiro - 23 July 2023

📸: Diego Castanho

[plaidbooks]

Blue, music, champagne + fluff

You took a deep breath, trying to settle your nerves. It wasn't the undercover you were in this night, nor the horrendous case you and the team were working on. No, you were just someone who never dressed up this fancy. But tonight

Tonight.

You were in a deep, midnight blue gown that you were pretty sure cost more than your monthly rent. Not to mention the elegant necklace, earrings, and hair net, featuring real life pearls.

But that's the sort of gala these millionaires threw, and you had to fit the part. Even if you were uncomfortable as hell.

Two servers in white, button up shirts and black vests, opened the grand doors in front of you. Soft music filled the air, coming from the live orchestra playing in the pit beside the massive dance floor.

Feeling somehow like both a Disney princess at a grand ball and an imposter in borrowed clothes, you make your way carefully down the staircase. But you force yourself to ignore all the glitz and glamour, instead focusing on where the exits were, where the people were standing, and where the perp was, chatting with a group of other rich men.

Your eyes caught Muncy, a server stationed at the door leading to the outside gardens, and you forced yourself to not let your eyes linger. A sweep of your gaze to the right, and there's Velasco--well, Joseph Sawyer for tonight--talking up some random guests. This was a "Whites only" gala (much to Fin's anger, though he was in the van outside) and Velasco, with makeup on, can pass as White.

Benson and Stabler were talking with the couple that threw the gala, all looking equally extravagant.

Finally making it to the bottom of the stairs, you accepted the champagne a server offed you with a smile. Unlike the shitty, free champagne often at the parties you were used to, this was the best wine--the best drink--you ever tasted. It was a struggle to not down it in one gulp.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Velasco making his way casually towards you. You ignore him, letting him get your attention by a soft, warm hand on your arm, turning you towards him.

"May I have this dance, miss?" he asked you in a soft whisper.

"You shall," you replied, handing your glass to a server and taking Velasco's hand. He leads you to the polished dance floor, then turns to face you, one hand holding yours and the other landing on your waist. Modest, but still in the area of groping for the men who may watch.

You dance for a bit, spinning around the floor together. In fact, you dance so long, you almost forget where you are, what you're doing. Your lost in Velasco's hold--as the music gets slower and he has you against his chest. His body was warm against yours, strong and safe.

You have always had a crush on Detective Velasco, and this wasn't helping those feelings.

Finally, as the cellos and piano grew louder, Velasco leaned until his lips were against your ear.

"Mrs. Greene said that our perp was stalking the victim for a month before she was assaulted," he muttered, lips barely moving.

The information ripped your mind back into place. Undercover. That's where you were.

"Is she credible?" you whisper back, wondering if he could hear you.

Velasco takes your hand and guides you through an elegant spin before pulling you close once more. How is he so good at this? And so comfortable?

"Well," he started, "she's three sheets to the wind, but that just means she gossips more."

You tilt your head back slightly to look him in the eye. Under the chandelier lighting, his eyes look like a bright hazel; you could stare at them forever. But your eyes unconsciously trail down his long, narrow nose to those lips that you've dreamed of, to that strong jaw. His usually scruffy facial hair has been trimmed, and there's a fragrant oil in his beard, making the hair shine slightly. You seem to remember yourself then, and dart your eyes back to his.

A silent question passes between you; is this enough to get him?

But the answer was there, too; no, keep digging.

So, you finished your dance, and Velasco bows low to you, like you're some sort of royalty, and brushes his lips over your knuckles. Then he's strolling away, slowly making his way closer to the perp and leaving you breathless.