25A\N: This is the longest one shot I've ever written, lol. But I didn't see the need to make you guys wait. As awesome as it was to see Cragen, Melinda and Nick on the 500th episode, all us EO shippers probably need a palate cleanser after that.
Tossing the audio tape into the river was the right thing to do. It was even cathartic. Perhaps it would've been more so if she'd set it ablaze. No one could've predicted what happened with Burton. And she for damn sure wasn't going to let her second favorite former partner shoulder the blame for bringing him back into her life.
After all, Olivia truly missed Amaro. He was never afraid to ask the hard questions, force her to examine her long held beliefs are call her on her bullshit.
Plus, in the end, Nick was right.
Nine women came forward. Nine. And to top it all off, Burton wanted Olivia, police captain of a unit designed to arrest perpetrators like him, to stand up and defend his behavior, the allegations, hell, his history with her.
As intelligent and talented a novelist as he is, the man couldn't seem to connect the dots of power and inappropriate relationships with subordinates. He used those women and saw absolutely no fault in it. Had considered himself lucky to draw the attention of the younger, fairer, sex.
And Olivia was likely his first victim.
But that isn't what has turned her stomach, raised her blood pressure, shaken the faith she has in herself as a cop. It's the fact that she's been in SVU for over two decades, came across predators like Burton a multitude of times, counseled and supported those victims, read books on the subject, and has even given lectures and through all that, failed to recognize her prior relationship for what it was.
Statutory rape.
If the law existed in the state of New York in the early 80's, it was rarely enforced if at all. But Serena didn't have to know the law to know it was wrong. Victims have a stronger ability to sniff out predators. Olivia simply didn't listen. Discounted Serena's desire to protect her as the ramblings of an alcoholic instead of a mother trying to prevent her daughter from being hurt and used.
It's Saturday night and if she continues with the wine, she'll have one hell of a headache to nurse come morning. Thankfully Noah's social calendar is busier than hers so he isn't around to witness her pity party. Olivia's back in the hallway again, thumbing through old letters, journals and other nostalgic audio tapes.
Literally cleaning out her closet.
She barely hears the knocks to her door above the Foreigner hole she fell into. Nick's on a plane back to Cali and Fin had instructions only to call her if the city was burning around his feet. But whomever it is persists so, Olivia digs her toes into the carpet, finds her footing and gets up to see who's interrupting her stroll down memory lane.
She's not in the mood for company, especially if they have an XY chromosome.
One look through the peep hole and she wishes she could just pretend she isn't home. But knowing Elliot, he's probably already sensed her through the damn door. Begrudgingly, Olivia reverses the locks and pulls it open, leaning against the entryway.
"What do you want, Elliot?"
He steps closer but back again once he realizes his mere presence isn't the automatic invitation inside that it once was.
"I want not to be spotted talking to a police captain in her hallway."
She raises an eyebrow at him, crosses her arms against her chest.
"I didn't ask you to come here."
"Liv, please."
She sighs deeply, drops her arms and turns, leaving the door open. Elliot doesn't hesitate. He shuffles in behind her, closes then locks the door.
"Alright, you're in," Olivia tells him. "Now what?"
He scrunches thick eyebrows at her in confusion. She's rarely this terse with him, even after a decade of ghosting her. She's better than him that way. Also, he usually knows what he's done to trigger it.
This time though, he's got nothing.
"I just wanted to check in," Elliot answers. "Making sure I continue to ground myself in the life of Elliot Stabler instead of Eddie Wagner," he continues. "I can't come home just yet and as much as seeing mom and Eli help, I needed more of a touchstone."
Olivia drops the defensive posture, stuffing both hands in the gray hoodie she wears atop an oversized t-shirt with leggings.
"And the truth is," he adds, drawing closer. "I don't recognize myself better in any other moments than those I share with you."
He throws her off every time he says shit like that. First it was the random 'I love you' but more recently the parallel universe comment, now this.
"Well…you're welcome," she says, moving into the kitchen. "You staying long enough for a beer or are you aching to get back to your trailer?"
He stays on the opposite side of the counter as she slides an open Bud Light to him.
"I can stay," he answers, accepting the cold bottle. "What's wrong, Liv?"
"What makes you think something's wrong?"
"Your tone, your body language and…the Foreigner coming from your back hall," he answers. "The biggest of red flags."
It was during the third consecutive night of their first stakeout as partners that Olivia told him she listened to one tape on repeat when she got depressed during her college years. A mix of Foreigner songs. Elliot has always paid attention, even when she didn't think he was.
She smirks as she leaves the kitchen and moves down the hall.
"Chalk one up to your memory still being intact," she tells him. "Follow me."
They don't bother trying to hide the grunts it takes for both of them to make it to the carpeted floor amongst the mess she's made. He puts his back on the wall next to hers outside Noah's bedroom, giving her at least a foot of space.
"What's all this?" He asks, sipping his beer.
"Elliot Stabler, this is my life."
"It's…messy."
"Like yours is any prettier."
He can't help but grin. He's missed the banter.
"Touché."
Olivia reaches for a box marked Sienna '86 and pulls off the lid. She's aiming for a stack of photos when Elliot leans forward and swipes the top one from the pile.
"Hey!"
"Wow," he says laughing. "Look at that fanny pack, all that glitter and spandex...the hair."
She snatches it away from him.
"Jealous?"
"Of the fanny pack? Absolutely."
Olivia shakes her head, not bothering to try and hide the smile as she flips through the pictures of her and her friends.
"Me and Lindsey James during Chi Omega pledge week," she begins. "Soaked to the bone and dripping in suds," she adds. "I had a lot of fun that day but decided the sisterhood wasn't for me."
Elliot scoots closer for a better look.
"So, no ragers, keggers or partying til dawn for the baby captain?"
"Didn't say that," she answers with a smirk. "I just said sororities weren't my thing," she goes on. "In high school I played volleyball and softball. I loved the camaraderie, being part of a team," she explains. "A family. I figured a sorority would be good for me."
"What happened?"
"I realized there are certain hoops I'm not willing to jump through to belong."
"I thought Black Friday in the Marines was bad until I became a cop," he says. "The things those kids put one another through…stupid, dangerous games."
"Yeah. And that's not exactly the kind of family I wanted," Olivia says as she passes off the stack to Elliot and continues perusing the box.
She stops when she comes across a bundle of lilac scented gold parchment paper wrapped in a royal blue silk bow.
"I can't believe I still have these."
"What's that?" He asks, turning his focus from the pictures to her new find.
"Some horribly written poetry in very lovely penmanship," she says, laughing. "I had this calligraphy phase in my sophomore year during a course in creative writing."
"Can I read one?"
"Not a chance."
"Chicken."
Olivia shrugs and drains the last of her wine before putting the glass to the side. Elliot takes it, along with his empty beer bottle into the kitchen.
"So, what prompted all this?" He asks, taking his place next to her again.
Before she can explain, I Want to Know What Love Is, begins to play on her stereo. Her eyes tear as she offers him a sad smile.
"Not yet, okay?"
She wants to have reasons to laugh a little longer.
Elliot gives a short nod and is looking around at the other piles when a piece of paper catches his eye. He wastes no time picking it up for a closer look.
"You're a wedding officiant?"
"Huh?"
Elliot hands her the certificate.
"Yeah, guess so," she says, examining the paper. "I'd forgotten all about it. When same sex marriages were legalized for New York in '07, bookings were backed up, there were a few friends who wanted to get hitched and—
"— You volunteered to be the hitcher," he says smirking. "Of course you did."
"You know what they say, always the officiant, never the bride."
"No one says that," he points out, with a laugh.
A few moments later Olivia catches him mouthing the words to the song.
"If you wanna belt it out Elliot, just do it."
He stares at her stone faced for two seconds then…
"I wanna know what love is! I want you to show me!"
The man rises to his knees and goes all out performing facial expressions, shoulder movements and hand gestures. He puts the imaginary mic towards Olivia's mouth and she bats it away.
"I wanna feel what love is! I know you can show me!"
She's laughing too hard at the second-hand embarrassment to participate. By the time the song ends and the tape stops, the two of them have tears pouring out of their eyes as he plops back down on his butt next to her again.
"God, I needed that," Olivia manages, trying to catch her breath.
"Me too, Liv. Me too."
She momentarily gives his right hand a squeeze then reaches for the tape box to swap out Foreigner for Bon Jovi.
"Do you remember that I told you I dated an older guy when I was a teenager?" She asks, broaching the subject.
"Uh, vaguely. No…wait. We had that whole conversation about soulmates and you were of the opinion that age shouldn't make a difference."
The memory of how adamant she was about that, now makes her cringe.
"I don't know what I was thinking."
"Come on. You were a teenager," he begins, focused on a picture of her in a bikini. "You were thinking with your hormones not your head," he adds, as she takes it from him, drawing his eyes to hers. "You thought you'd found your soulmate."
Elliot sees her pained expression at his words.
"What, Liv?"
"He was twenty-one years old and his name was Burton Lowe."
"The true-crime writer?"
"That's the one."
"So, the asshole who took advantage of you when you were young and vulnerable got to fail upward," he comments. "What about him?"
"My other former partner, Nick Amaro, recently came into town," she starts. "He paired up with Burton and asked for SVU's help in exonerating a wrongly convicted man," she explains. "We managed to get it done then he and I…reconnected."
The ability to hide your true emotions is both an art and a critical skill to have when you're a cop under cover. Especially in the dangerous world of organized crime. But he can't hide from Olivia any more than she can hide from him.
He's surprised, disappointed and maybe even a bit jealous.
"Oh."
She hears so much in that one word, that one syllable.
"Yeah," she says. "Then…a woman approached us after the case and claimed Burton raped her when she interned for his editor."
"Was she credible?"
"Yes," she rasps. "And so were the other eight women that came forward with the same or similar stories," she informs him. "Stories like mine."
Elliot reaches for her hand.
"How could I not have seen him for what he was?" She asks, swiping at tears. "With all of my experience, how could I—
"— You can't blame yourself, Liv. You know better. Guys like that have a plan. An M.O. just like any other sexual predator or serial killer."
"I told him everything, Elliot," she admits. "He knew my mother was an alcoholic, that there was no father in the picture, the abuse," she tells him. "I was the perfect target."
"And who knows how many other targets he's had before or since," he points out. "Sooner or later one of his victims, karma or a cop is gonna come for his ass," he adds. "He's lucky it won't be me."
She squeezes his hand, intwines their fingers.
"I confronted him after the press got wind of it," Olivia says. "He was hitting the mini bar in his hotel room pretty hard after finding out he's financially ruined."
"Did he hurt you?" He asks.
Olivia can see he's gearing up to battle. For her.
"Not physically," she rasps. "I just…wanted him to recognize what he did to me. Own it. Apologize."
"Let me guess…instead of making amends or atoning for his predatory behavior he doubled down, justified it, said those women knew exactly what they were doing and he never forced anyone to do anything they didn't want."
"Were you hiding in the bathroom?" She asks with a sad laugh.
"Twenty years in SVU," Elliot reminds her. "Perp speeches don't change."
"He asked me to marry him when I was sixteen," she tells him. "I didn't see any red flags then…or when he showed up," she continues. "We reminisced and the only thing I wanted to remember was how he almost rescued me from my drunk of a mother."
Olivia sighs heavily and lets her head fall against his shoulder. He doesn't hesitate to put his arm around her.
"I look around at all these mementos, evidence of the person I used to be, how optimistic I was back then and I think…God, what happened to the husband, 2.5 kids, cocker spaniel and house in Great Neck I was supposed to have by now?"
"I don't know about Great Neck," Elliot says, prompting a small smile.
"I'm serious, Elliot. What's wrong with me?"
"Not a damn thing, Liv," he answers, rubbing her lower back. "They say if you wanna hear God laugh, tell him your plans," he continues. "Sometimes the life you imagine isn't the life you get."
"I know."
"Look at me," he urges and she raises her eyes to his. "I wanted to go to college, be an architect and move to Dallas because it's cheaper, has all the amenities of a big city and I look damn good in a cowboy hat," he adds, threading his fingers through her hair.
"Do you now?" She questions, a smirk on her face.
"Yeah," he says, swiping at the last of her tears with his thumb. "But had I not knocked up Kathy, I wouldn't have joined the military," he explains. "No baby, no Marines. No Marines, No NYPD. No NYPD, No SVU. No SVU, no—
"— Me and you," she finishes.
"In a parallel universe, it will always be you and I."
"Right," he says, caressing the spine of her ear. "And despite the fact that I fucked up twelve years of trust and friendship, I'm glad my path led me here instead of the city with the winningest team in the NFL."
Between his ministrations and the nearness, it's becoming increasingly hard to focus on anything but him.
"Me too," she rasps. "And as much as I'm sure Noah would love a dog, I don't think we're Great Neck people."
"I agree," he says. "He seems like an awesome kid by the way. You really want two, I mean 1.5 more?"
She smiles, unable to stop her eyes from drifting to his mouth.
"With my schedule?" She asks, covering the slip. "Noah's plenty."
Reluctantly, Olivia pulls away from his comforting proximity. She's still too raw from Burton not to do something stupid with Elliot. And they're nowhere near close enough to working through their own shit for that.
To give herself something to do, she begins gathering her things and putting them back into boxes. He takes direction as to which long held keepsake goes where and five minutes later, she's closing the door on her past.
Olivia turns to find him staring.
"What?"
"Nothin'," Elliot says with a shrug. "I've just…missed this, missed you," he adds, stuffing both hands into his front jean pockets. "There's no bigger regret I have than hurting and alienating you after over a decade of partnership."
"Elliot."
"I'm sorry about the sucky timing but it's true," he asserts. "What I did played into every negative thought you've ever had about yourself," he adds. "It was…unforgivable. And Burton Lowe may be too much of an asshole to apologize but I'm not," he continues. "I'm so sorry," he says, stepping closer. "You deserved better, Liv. You still, deserve better."
She doesn't hesitate to return his embrace when Elliot reaches for her. Without her signature boots he's several inches taller and she feels the friction of his beard on the top of her head, the warmth of his mouth when he kisses it. Instantly she tightens her arms around his waist.
Not creating distance after he loosens his hold, is bad idea number one. Meeting his sincere blue eyes is bad idea number two. Bad idea number three comes in the form of reaching up to place both hands on the sides of his neck.
"I miss the face beneath all this hair."
"Still in here," he says with a grin.
"At least I can still see the dimples."
"As soon as Eddie Ashes is no longer necessary, neither is the beard," he promises. "I'll happily let you shave it off."
"Me with sharp things near your face? That's a lot of trust."
"You earned my complete trust a long time ago, Liv."
She lets her hands fall from his neck, down the front of his green button up. His pectorals jump reflexively beneath the warmth of her palms, the firmness of him a stark contrast to that predatory asshole.
Olivia wants nothing more than to forget. The very thought that someone like him was the last one to touch her…
She slides her hands down further over his abdomen then back up again. It's hardly unintentional and nowhere near close to being platonic.
"Liv?"
"Yeah?"
"What are we doing?" Elliot asks, voice deepening with want.
The fact he said we instead of you lets her know she's not alone in what she's feeling. Then again, she never has been.
"Trying not to remember that the last man I touched groomed me when I was sixteen and turned into a serial predator," she answers honestly. "I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable," she adds, dropping her hands.
Elliot wastes no time pulling her palms back to their position on his chest.
"You haven't," he insists. "I want you to do whatever you need to get past it," he offers. "And if this helps you feel more in control, stronger or…safer, then it's what I want."
"What about—
"— I know we have some things to work out," he interrupts. "But this is about you right now and once my UC is over, then we can focus on repairing our friendship."
"I don't know," she admits but doesn't remove her hands from his body. "This could further complicate things between us."
"Or…it could uncomplicate some things," he suggests, resisting the urge to touch her. "But it's your choice, Liv.
Olivia nods her agreement, turns to re-open the closet. Elliot watches in confusion as she pulls down the box of cassettes again. She peruses them for a second before apparently finding the one she's searching for. He leans his shoulder next to the wall outside her bedroom, curious as to what music she'll choose for this unprecedented occasion.
The stereo still sits on the floor, plugged in and ready to go once she pops in the tape.
Prince's Do Me Baby begins to play and Elliot raises an eyebrow, offers a smirk. He places his back against the wall, waiting for her to take the reins and figure out what she wants, what she needs from him.
It doesn't take her long to decide as she pulls off the gray hoodie and tosses it in the closet before shutting it.
She approaches Elliot, places her hands on his chest again but he can feel her hesitance so he opens a top button while she looks on, focused. Then another and another until it's Olivia who's revealing his skin, letting his shirt drop in a hush to the hallway floor once the last clasp is released.
"It's not fair," she thinks. "He shouldn't be this damn firm all over at his age."
When her warm palms finally land on his bare chest, he closes his eyes in reverie. She moves them up and out to his shoulders then back and down again stopping at the waist of his blue jeans, causing his jaw to clench.
Olivia circles her arms around him, smoothing her hands up his back, feeling every defined muscle as she presses her breasts against his pectorals. His arms surround her in an instant.
Putting her lips against his skin as she plants warm open-mouthed kisses in the corded muscles of his neck then all over his chest is nearly his undoing.
"Can I kiss you?" He manages.
Olivia leans away and meets his eyes again.
"And risk beard rash?" She asks, a twinkle in her eye.
"It'll be gone by tomorrow."
Elliot knows they'll only get one first kiss so he cups her face, caresses the side of her neck, then slowly leans in. At first, it's just a gentle thing. A long peck between friends until she tilts her head, letting him know this isn't meant to be platonic.
Then he's nipping, tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth. She opens her mouth to him, then slides her tongue inside, tasting him for the first time. Olivia knows they've always had chemistry. But the way he kisses her so intensely, so completely is like nothing she's felt with anyone else.
The part of her brain responsible for arousal lights up like the Manhattan skyline on New Year's Eve. After that, she loses count of the number of bad ideas that run through her head where her former partner is concerned. She flips off the light in the hallway so he's less inclined to ask questions about the scars when she strips off her shirt.
But Elliot seems unconcerned as he kisses her neck, her shoulders, down to the tops of her breasts. Olivia feels him slide work hewn palms up her back to reach for the clasp. Two seconds later her bra hits the floor. Elliot ditches his shoes and toes off his socks before bending to wrap his lips around her right nipple, the taste buds of his tongue rubbing the perfect amount of friction against the pebbled flesh.
"Fuck," she manages as he manipulates her left nipple with his thumb and index finger.
He trails his mouth down her stomach. Olivia braces herself against the wall opposite her bedroom as he strips off her yoga tights and panties together.
Elliot stands then and meets her eyes. His the darkest of midnight, hers the deepest macadamia, both reflecting the multitude of emotions for their shared years, all culminating in this moment.
He palms her face, combs his fingers through her tresses and leans in to kiss her so sweetly, so reverently that she nearly cries.
She's completely naked in front of him and where most guys would likely fuck her hard and fast against the wall, her former partner has other ideas.
"Sit on the bench."
Once Olivia's complied, he kneels and pulls her hips towards him, prompting her to lean back against the wall.
"Son of a bitch," she thinks. "If this is a dream…"
The thought pops out of her head like a bubble the second he brings her right leg over his shoulder, nipping and kissing at the tender flesh of her inner thigh. Once he gets to her center, Elliot inhales deeply.
"I bet you taste as good as you smell, Liv," he says in a timbre and depth she's never heard from him before.
Her legs are shaking with need and anticipation of what he's about to do. As her heart races, she can feel the blood rushing through her ears. The number of times she's fantasized about this very moment is innumerable.
He parts her folds with his tongue, taking a leisurely lick through her center. She gasps when he pushes one finger inside to test her arousal, then a second to build it further. Olivia grips the bench with her left hand and skulls the back of his head with her right, encouraging his ministrations.
This is no dream. Just a mutual fantasy come true.
Elliot runs the texture of his tongue over that sensitive bud in a pattern with the rhythm of the music and she's surprised she has the presence of mind to even notice. He has her on the brink two minutes in. Applying pressure, then releasing it and repeating the action over and over again until she's whimpering, panting, undulating her hips and riding his hand.
"El, fuck," she breathes. "I'm gonna…
Between his unrelenting tongue on her clit and the way he's so adeptly curling his fingers inside her, no one has ever drawn out an orgasm so expertly, so beautifully.
When she cums, she clenches the back of his neck and cries out, squeezing her eyes shut seeing stars behind her lids from how hard every muscle in her body contracts. Once the lightening in her limbs subside, she slumps against the wall, breathless as she looks down at him with a lazy grin.
"You're welcome," he says, smirking.
"Cocky son of a bitch."
"Well…now you partially know why."
"Partially?"
Elliot picks her up suddenly resulting in her yelp, wrapping her legs around his waist.
"Which one is yours?"
"To your right," she manages, smiling.
Olivia bites and sucks on the lobe of his left ear as they move, causing him to nearly crash them into the doorway as he hardens further beneath her. Clearly, it's a tender spot for him and she commits it to memory for next time.
Because there is one thing the captain decided a nanosecond after feeling his mouth on her, and that is, this is not a one-time deal. They just have to work out their shit first.
He carries her inside, drops his jeans and boxer briefs before climbing between her legs. He kisses her sweetly at first until Olivia turns those adoring pecks into passionate, fiery Frenching that threaten to consume them both.
She feels him, hard and heavy against her and wonders why he isn't yet buried in her warmth. She moves her foot to the back of his thigh and manages to flip their positions. If tonight is about taking her power back, making her feel safe with someone again, Olivia's damn well going to take advantage of the offer.
Elliot smiles at the position change. But when she takes hold of his shaft and begins inching herself over his erection, he nearly bites a hole in his bottom lip.
"Fuck, Liv."
Once she's fully seated, she has to give herself a moment. Burton and Elliot are two men she will never mix up. Hell, she'll never confuse this man for any of her past lovers.
"Are you okay?"
Instead of answering, she begins undulating her hips to the next Prince song. Adore. She'll have a hard time listening to it ever again without imagining a naked Elliot Stabler beneath her, inside her.
Olivia pants and moans over him as he grasps her thighs, thrusting upwards as she grinds down, always so in sync.
He sits up, threading his hands through her hair, kissing her deeply before planting feverish open-mouthed pecks everywhere he can reach in their position. Elliot's lips on her skin feels right, inevitable.
Both concentrate on seeing, tasting, touching, feeling…everything they've been curious about since day one.
Their conversation is minimal just…
"You feel so good, Liv…"
"God, El…"
He pants. She whimpers.
"El," she tries. "I need…"
"I got you."
With her arms thrown over his shoulders, he drops a hand between them and begins rubbing his thumb in circles against her. Elliot latches on to her left nipple, giving it the same attention with his tongue.
"Fuck yes," she nearly growls.
Moments later her walls are clenching around him.
The muscles of Olivia's thighs spasm so hard it's nearly painful. If it wouldn't be so embarrassing, she'd pass out from the pleasure and strength of her orgasm. She settles for dropping her forehead to his shoulder.
"You good?" He asks, grinning.
"Yes," she manages, a whisper into his left ear.
"Hold on," Elliot warns, putting her on her back without separating their bodies.
He puts her thigh over his, opening her up more so he can move his hips freely. He pulls out of her almost completely before thrusting back in. Long, quick, deep strokes over and over, throwing his hips in a circular pattern until he finds her g-spot.
"Oh…God, El!"
With that verbal confirmation, he punishes her spot, increasing the pace and power with each drive. He moves over her, hooking his hands beneath her shoulders for leverage as their bodies create the sweetest friction. Her ample breasts, firm nipples and soft stomach against his sweat soaked chest and rippled abdomen.
He sucks and bites at the tender flesh of her neck and passionately assaults her lips and tongue until they're both careening out of control.
"Fuck!" They yell, simultaneously.
The next time Olivia cums, Elliot joins her, a quiet grunt signaling his climax, a deep 'oh' and tremble indicating hers. They lay together for long moments, his head resting on her stomach as she plays with the spine of his ear, catching their breaths.
"Well, I feel better," she manages after a few minutes.
His deep laugh echoes in her bedroom.
"Glad I could help," he says, caressing her hip. "And don't worry. I know this doesn't fix anything between us."
"Thanks for saying so," she tells him. "But as…phenomenal as this was," she adds, making him grin. "I think I'm gonna call my therapist on Monday, try to get an appointment."
"Not a bad idea," he agrees, moving to lay on his side next to her. "I plan on doing the same once this is all over."
Elliot's eyes dip below hers and suddenly he's quiet.
She closes her lids, feeling his focus shift to all her exposed skin. He cups her left breast, thumbing the cigarette burns that have faded to being barely noticeable. Elliot lets his hand trail lower, gently mapping the other more prominent scars with his fingertips.
"Liv, these marks –
"— Are a story for another day," she tells him. "Not tonight."
And certainly not after they've just made love for the first time.
"Of course," Elliot says, picking up her hand to kiss her palm. "But whatever it was…I'm so fucking happy you survived it," he rasps, his voice full of emotion.
Because he may not know what happened yet, but he knows it was horrific.
Olivia's not surprised at his tenderness, just the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. The decade apart seems not to matter and she's already addicted to his touch. It's terrifying.
Everyone leaves.
"I'm gonna go take a shower," she says, rolling away from him. "Will you still be here when I'm done?" She asks, pulling on her robe.
"You don't have to keep checking, Liv," he says, following her every movement. "I'm never gonna make the mistake of not saying goodbye to you again."
"Okay," she says, offering a soft smile.
"And no more spotty communication once this UC is done."
"Let's not make promises you can't keep."
At that he climbs from her bed, not bothering to cover himself. It's more than a challenge to focus on his eyes.
"I'm not making promises, I'm stating my intentions," he informs her. "You and I both know how much this job gets in the way of…everything," he adds. "I'm just, I'm gonna try to do better for you, for us, for whatever we decide to be to one another."
"Okay," she repeats. "Now put some clothes on."
The second the words come out of her mouth, Olivia knows she made a mistake. The man begins smiling like the Joker.
"What's the matter, Benson?" He asks, resting his hands on his hips. "Too distracting?"
Managing to keep her focus above his waist, Olivia rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she exits.
"Oh and, I ordered Chinese before you got here," she throws out as she walks away. "It's already paid for and do not eat my potstickers before I get out the bathroom, Stabler."
Elliot watches her ass purposely sway in the worn cotton and stops her before she closes the door.
"Hey, Liv?"
"Yeah?" She answers, turning.
"I already ate," he tells her, grinning like a kid with a secret.
Olivia rolls her eyes and locks herself inside the bathroom. She doesn't put it past him to try an attempt at shower sex. She's had one broken bone this year and if she got another trying to do things she hasn't done since her 30s, there's no way in hell she'd be able to come up with a good enough lie.
She drops the robe and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror after she reaches to turn on the shower.
"Shit."
The sickening tryst with Burton had her looking a little romped, like perhaps she went for a jog after work.
The woman in the reflection is a fucking train wreck. Her hair is tussled, the lower half of her face is covered in beard rash, hickeys mar nearly her entire front and she has fading bruises from the way he gripped her thighs as she rode him. And after three orgasms, she'll likely be sore if she doesn't take some ibuprofen soon.
Olivia just shakes her head and steps into the steam.
Burton who?
She can smell the chicken and broccoli once she steps out of her shower. Once she's donned her favorite pajamas, she finds Elliot at her kitchen counter, dressed solely in his jeans, chopsticks in hand, holding a Chinese dumpling dipping it in sauce.
"That better be for me," Olivia warns, sitting on the stool next to his.
"We can share," he says, feeding her the dumpling.
"Hmm," she moans. "Either that's the best potsticker I've ever tasted or I'm just really fucking hungry."
"Well, we both worked up quite the appetite," Elliot says, smirking and feeding himself another piece.
She laughs and shakes her head, not bothering to cover up the blush she feels on her skin. It wasn't a surprise that they'd be good together sexually, great as a matter of fact. But now she's worried. And he notices when her playful grin turns stoic.
"What?" He asks, placing a hand on her thigh.
Olivia immediately covers his hand with her own.
"Thank you…for being the perfect distraction," she says.
"But?"
"But…we agreed to work on…our baggage before this can happen again."
"Yes, we did. So?"
"So…I'm scared that after what happened back there," she begins, gesturing with her thumb to her right. "That I'll be more inclined to forgive you faster or be less angry because of how strong our physical attraction is."
Elliot gives her thigh a momentary squeeze and offers a soft grin.
"I didn't come here expecting that to happen," he starts. "And I'm not gonna lie and say I haven't fantasized about it or that I wouldn't absolutely love to repeat it," he adds, drawing a smile from her. "But earning your trust again, proving to you that I'm here to stay, is more important to me than sex."
"Yeah?"
"Of course, Liv," he asserts. "I spent all those years as your partner and kept my hands to myself so—
"—Your eyes on the other hand…"
He laughs.
"As I was saying, if I could do that, I can wait until we figure everything out and we're on more solid ground."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes," Olivia tells him. "I believe you," she adds. "Trusting you has always been second nature for me, Elliot," she goes on. "And the connection we've always shared makes me vulnerable where you're concerned. It just…it scares me."
"Me too."
"So, I don't want to end up resenting you later for not taking the time to process how I feel about you leaving the way you did, not writing the letter, the mixed messages when you came back…all of it."
"I get it, Liv," he urges. "No more sex until we work on our shit, with our shrinks then with one another."
Olivia nods and exhales with relief before getting up to retrieve two plates. She can feel his eyes on her as she reaches up and pulls them from the cabinet. Her suspicions are confirmed when she turns to face him again.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
He smirks and accepts a plate from her, brushing a finger against hers in the process.
"Elliot."
Clearly, she's affected and decides eating on the kitchen side of the counter is safer.
"I'm just wondering what'll happen if we…slip up."
"Slip up?" She asks, eating a forkful of chicken lo mein.
"Yeah. Suddenly I'm realizing how much easier it was to keep my hands off you when my hands had never been on you…or inside you," he adds, causing her an instant blush. "As exposed as we are with one another…if one of us has a bad day…or needed to—
"— like today."
"Like today."
She can't imagine how her night would've gone, how much more she would've continued to imbibe if Elliot hadn't stopped by. Falling into him was unequivocally more fun and pleasurable than drowning her regrets in a bottle of merlot.
"If it happens, we'll deal with it then," Olivia answers, grabbing another potsticker. "For now, all I wanna do is enjoy my Chinese."
He takes the hint and asks her about Noah, bringing an instant smile to her face. She tells him about his excitement for dance, his favorite movies and the way he's so inquisitive she's almost certain he'll either be a journalist or a cop like his mom.
"He could be worse things," Elliot tells her. "And he's lucky to have you to show him the way."
"We got lucky with one another."
When Olivia begins to clear the food, he gets up to help. They toss the trash and throw the rest into plasticware for leftovers.
"Thanks for dinner," he says. "But I should probably get going," he adds. "Make sure Eli comes home and my mom doesn't worry about him."
"Right, sure," she agrees, trying to hide her disappointment. "You should probably put clothes on before you leave though."
"Right," he whispers in her ear. "What would the neighbors think?"
She smirks as he walks away to get dressed in her bedroom. To keep it off her mind that he's leaving, and she doesn't really want him to, Olivia grabs a bottle of water, goes to her sofa and tries to find something entertaining on TV.
A few minutes later he joins her in the living room, now fully clothed, his shoes in hand. He sits down beside her on the sofa and begins putting them on.
"What's this you're watching?"
"MasterChef Junior," Olivia answers. "Noah loves it. He'll probably end up being a better cook than I am."
"Like that's hard."
She playfully hits him with a throw pillow, slowing his progress.
"Ow."
"Don't be a baby."
"I noticed something when we were…in your room," he says.
"Oh?" She asks, taking her eyes off the cake competition. "What's that?"
"How much you call me 'El' instead of 'Elliot' when you're in the throes of passion," he answers, grinning like that toothy feline from Alice in Wonderland.
"Asshole," she says, blushing as she hits him with the pillow again. "But seriously, I started calling you that to distance myself when you came back," she explains. "To remind you that we're no longer friends, no longer as…familiar. I slip sometimes because I miss what we used to be, what we had."
"So do I," he admits. "But I like it when you slip. And I plan on earning it again, making you wanna use my nickname. No matter how long that takes."
"You better."
Elliot smiles as he puts on his other boot. Once he's finished, he reaches out his hand.
"Walk me out?"
Olivia doesn't hesitate to take hold and let him pull her from the sofa.
"So, I knew about your Foreigner depression tape," he says as they stand at her door. "But Prince?" He asks. "What do you call that?"
She laughs before answering. The way this man has her blushing tonight makes her feel like she's twenty years old again.
"Don't laugh."
Elliot closes the short distance between them, takes her other hand in his.
"Never."
"It's my sex tape," she manages, smiling. "Hair bands like Warrant and Journey were cool to rock out to in the 80s," she begins. "But when I was horny as hell? It was Prince for me."
"Good to know," he says, smirking. "I would've bet money it was George Michael."
Olivia laughs at the guess.
"I probably wouldn't say no listening to him either," she admits. "And you seem like a Marvin Gaye 'Let's Get It On' kind of guy."
His deep grin lets her know she's close.
"That may have been my choice if I wasn't already married by high school graduation," he points out. "But there was a whole lot of Bryan Adams, Phil Collins and Aerosmith for date nights."
Kathy obviously had good taste as evidenced by those music choices and the man that gave her three orgasms. No wonder she didn't want to share him.
"I wish I didn't have to go."
"Me too."
"Can I kiss you goodnight?"
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."
Elliot threads both hands through her hair as Olivia encircles his waist with her arms to mold her body to his. He pecks her lips once, twice and lingers the third time when she opens her mouth to him.
The kiss is slow and sensual. She sets an unhurried pace as she backs him into the wall closest to the door, sliding her tongue against his and periodically nipping at his lower lip. Clearly, the beard has grown on her and she loves the way he tastes.
"Liv," he rasps against the skin of her forehead after managing to pull his mouth off hers. "If I don't leave now, you're gonna need another shower and I can promise you won't be alone in there this time."
He's semihard against Olivia's stomach and she knows Elliot can feel her firm nipples through the thin pajama shirt. Of course, he had to be the one to stop them, remind her that they shouldn't rip each other's clothes off until they've addressed some important things.
But Olivia has a powerful suspicion that if tonight's any indication of what their sex life will be, she may be the first one to "slip", before they've worked out all the drama. And people say she's the stronger of the two.
Tonight, they'd be wrong.
"I know," she says, stepping away to open the door. "You're right."
"We should –
"— I should…"
They both smile.
"We'll talk later," Olivia promises.
"Okay," Elliot says. "And the next time we're in a room with other people, pretend like you haven't seen me naked," he adds with a wink.
Olivia laughs.
"Everyone already thinks I have," she reminds him.
"True," he says. "Bye Liv," he adds, giving her one last kiss on the cheek.
"Bye Elliot."
After she closes the door she heads back to the sofa with a smile on her face, knowing the longest relationship she's had with a man…is going to be her last one.
END A\N: Feel free to leave a review folks.