"No," she answers. "But I could be persuaded to join you for dinner."

Elliot texted to inform her their reservations are for 7p.m. Both hope they don't catch a case between now and then. Fortunately for her, Olivia has a standing bi-weekly appointment to get a mani-pedi. A sexy dress catches her eye in between doing that and picking up her clothes from the dry cleaners. And, she already owns the perfect shoes and accessories.

He had to damn near promise to donate a lobe of his liver in order to get a last-minute table at a posh rooftop Mediterranean restaurant he knows she'll love. Elliot's seen the men she's dated in the past and he doubts her tastes have gotten less refined over the years. Thanks to his lucrative time in private security, he won't have a problem offering Olivia everything she deserves…materially speaking.

But if he wants a successful relationship with her, he'll have to work like hell on being more open and communicative. And clearly, he wants things to work with the love of his life no matter what that takes.

The restaurant is only ten minutes away from her apartment so he arrives at 6:30 pm and texts her from the lobby that he's on his way up. Olivia's nervous. She knows it's ridiculous but it's also factual. We're talking butterflies, nausea, sweaty upper lip level of anxiety. For her former partner? The one she's known for over twenty years? Yes, that one.

She's wearing a long-sleeved maxi dress with a deep vee accentuating her generous cleavage and a split on the left side going up to her mid-thigh. It's paired with silver strappy sandals, a matching clutch, a sapphire and diamond necklace, earrings, and a ring.

To settle her stomach, she makes a beeline for the fridge relieved when she discovers a ginger ale to take a sip. Seconds later when Olivia hears his signature knocks, she nearly drops the glass.

She moves at an unhurried pace, stopping for one last look in the foyer mirror before pulling the door open. On the other side is an incredibly handsome and impeccably dressed Elliot Stabler. The second he sees her; he nearly stops breathing.

"You uh, you look gorgeous, Olivia."

"Thank you," she manages, "You look great too."

The second she sees him; her mouth goes dry.

He's dressed in a navy plaid three-piece suit, stark white dress shirt with matching handkerchief, and a solid navy tie, holding a bouquet of pink Casablanca lilies.

"Did you peruse my suits while you were in my closet last night?" He asks. "Or are you just psychic?"

"What?"

Elliot gestures to their chosen colors.

"People are gonna think we planned this," he says, smiling. "Great minds I guess."

Olivia laughs and it pops that bubble of anxiety for her.

"Want me to change?"

"Absolutely not."

He's staring at all the tanned golden skin the dress isn't hiding until finally meeting her eyes, finding her face painted with a smirk at catching him.

"Those for me?" She asks, pointing to the flowers.

"Oh yeah, here," he says, handing them over.

"They're gorgeous, thank you," Olivia comments. "I'll just put these in water and we'll be on our way."

Ten minutes into their arrival, they've ordered their main courses and a waiter pours Olivia a glass of Semillon after dropping off a light beer for Elliot.

"That a favorite of yours?" He asks, watching the enjoyment cover her face with the first sip.

"Not really," she answers. "I'm usually a cabernet of merlot drinker but I haven't had it in years so I thought, why not."

"Connected to fond memories?"

She thinks of her time with Ed and Noah on vacation and gets the hint of a smile.

"Yeah," she tells him. "Discovered it on a vacation to Paris," she informs him. "It's the wine capital of the world so I had the opportunity to taste something different every night," she adds. "When I tasted the Semillon I fell in love—doesn't appear on wine lists around here too often though."

Elliot makes a mental note to get a bottle or two to keep at his place just for her.

"So, Paris, huh?" He asks. "City of lights, city of love," he adds with a smirk. "Who whisked you off to France, Olivia?"

She shakes her head at his predictability as she takes another sip of the fruity white wine.

"Ed Tucker," she deadpans.

If Elliot truly wants to make a relationship with her work, he's going to have to deal with her past and all it entails just as she has to deal with whatever truth bombs await her from his time in Italy.

The captain isn't naïve enough to believe there aren't any.

"Starting the night off with jokes I see," he says, reaching for his Heineken. "I get it, no more questions about your personal life."

He waits for her to crack a smile or say she was just kidding. When that doesn't come, he continues.

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

Olivia watches the tightening of his fist and a simmering rage coloring his neck as the knowledge sinks in. Then he does something so completely unexpected and so unlike the man she knew twelve years ago. Elliot closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths.

"The man that replaced you as my partner had recently left," she begins. "I had a green sergeant forced on me while I was still juggling my command and being a new mom," she adds. "And I felt…very alone."

"Vulnerable."

"Ed helped negotiate me out of another violent hostage situation I was involved in," she continues. "He knew about what I'd gone through with Lewis and offered his support after the threat was over," she goes on. "Things developed from there."

"You didn't owe me an explanation, Olivia."

"But you wanted one," she concludes. "And sooner or later you would've found out so I may as well get in front of it now."

"In light of everything he put us through, I'd say I took it pretty well."

"You haven't yelled or punched any walls so I guess that's progress," she offers with a smirk.

"Touché."

The waiter returns with her lemon chicken and asparagus and his marinated steak and creamed spinach. Elliot asks for another beer while Olivia gets her wine topped off.

"I showed you mine now show me yours," she tells him cutting up her food.

"What do you mean?"

"Something that's happened and you'd prefer I not know," she answers. "Anything in Italy or…since you've been back."

Despite the calm demeanor and tone, he's not fooled. Elliot worked with her for over a decade and is well aware that he's being softened up for a confession. He takes a breath and gives her what she wants.

"In order to maintain my cover with the Albanians and…before I knew she was involved in sex trafficking," he excuses. "I slept with Flutura Briscu."

Olivia lowers the fork that was on the way to her mouth, lays it on her plate and picks up her Semillon instead.

"Figured that," she says after a liberal sip. "You had that same guilty look on your face any time I mentioned my temporary replacement after Oregon."

"I never slept with her."

"Doesn't matter," Olivia says with a wave of her hand before picking up her fork again. "We both have a past, Elliot."

"You're right," he agrees. "But I think what's more important is the future we want," he offers. "Noah got any dance recitals coming up?"

After the conversation is perfectly steered into the safe territory of their children, things go a lot smoother. Elliot updates her on how Eli is managing as a college freshman, the hijinks of Kieran and Seamus and how well Bernie and Katie seem to be cohabitating. As he pays the check, Olivia informs him about her son's upcoming holiday musical and how he's driving her nuts listening to the same song on repeat. But he can also tell how much she enjoys being a mom.

"You love it," Elliot says, opening her car door as she smiles. "I knew you'd be a natural."

The ten minutes it took to drive there turns into twenty with the weekend night traffic.

"I think Carisi's gonna propose."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely," Olivia tells him. "He's been an obvious sap for her since they were partners at SVU," she continues. "Just took Rollins a little longer to realize it. But I'm glad she has. He's good for her and the girls."

"Girls?"

"She has two daughters, Jessie and Billie," she says. "And yours truly is the God mama."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Nothin' just…happy you got the family you deserved," Elliot answers. "I always wanted that for you, Liv."

He reaches for and holds her hand as they journey to her apartment. When she hears Adele's "When We Were Young" on the radio, she turns it up and they say nothing more until Elliot pulls up outside her building.

"Why don't you park in the garage…join me for a nightcap?"

Both have shed their shoes and coats, him his blazer as well. He sits on the sofa as she prepares coffee.

"It's not as fancy as what you have but it'll - ow!"

Elliot hurries into the kitchen to check on her.

"What happened?"

Olivia shakes her hand out looking at the redness of her skin.

"Just—wasn't paying attention," she answers. "Burned my hand but I'm okay."

"You should really be running it under cool water," Elliot suggests, turning on the tap, and adjusting the temperature as he steps behind her. "At least five minutes."

He takes hold of her wrist and guides her right hand beneath the cool spray. She can feel the heat from his body, the sandalwood, musk, and other notes of his cologne not easily recognized and wants to lean back against him.

"Where's your first-aid kit?"

"Uh," she tries, embarrassingly overwhelmed by him. "Beneath the bathroom sink down the hall to your left."

"Keep rinsing. I'll be back."

Elliot returns a few minutes later with a red box, aloe vera lotion, and a soft fluffy hand towel.

"Alright, come with me."

He leads her into the living room and they sit thigh to thigh as Elliot tenderly blots her hand. She eyes him fondly as he applies a thin layer of aloe vera, being so gentle with her. Next, he opens the first-aid kit, wraps the injury in gauze and seals it with tape then places a tender kiss on the injury.

Later she'll rationalize that it was after having so many kids but right now, she's all gooey on the inside from his care.

"There you go," he says. "You should change it again after twenty-four hours."

Olivia can't help but smile.

"Thank you, Dr. Stabler," she tells him, making him laugh. "When did you have time to go to medical school?"

"I haven't but when you've fixed as many boo-boos as I have, you learn a thing or two about cuts, scrapes, broken bones, bloody noses and—

"—And burns."

"And burns."

"So much for the nightcap."

"Hey," he says, eyeing his watch. "It's barely 9:30 pm and neither of us has work tomorrow," he adds. "Why don't you change into something more comfortable," he continues, waggling his eyebrows and making her laugh. "Some sweats maybe. And we'll find a cheesy movie to make fun of."

"Really?"

Suddenly, Elliot's not so sure of himself or confident in the good time he thought they were having.

"Unless you'd rather I take off."

"No, stay," she says, easing his nerves. "A cheesy movie sounds perfect."

Three months, several coffee dates, a handful of lunches, weekend night dinners hoping neither of their phones ring and things seem to be working out. Elliot's being consistent with her. Listening, answering her calls, anticipating her moods from her tone of voice, earning her friendship and more importantly her trust back. And for her part, Olivia's letting him. She promised a genuine attempt at a relationship with him and she's honoring that promise. Noah is no longer used as an excuse to keep her distance. He's allowed them to interact and even help cheer him on at a school recital. And Lindstrom has noticed the changes in her also.

"When last we spoke, I know you were dealing with a lot," he pointed out. "One of your closest detectives was leaving, you found Noah has a half-brother and you were still waking with anxiety and tears at 4 a.m.," he continued. "But today you seem…lighter."

"I am," she said, smiling. "Amanda is staying in touch as promised and the family of Noah's half-brother are good people thus far."

"And your sleep cycle?"

"It's better," she said after taking a breath. "Unless my phone goes off, I mostly sleep through the whole night."

"That's good to hear," Lindstrom told her. "What's changed?"

"I gave more thought to what I deserve," she responded. "Talked to Elliot and we're…trying."

The doctor gave her a knowing grin before continuing.

"How'd that conversation go?"

Olivia couldn't help but smirk.

"There was some yelling, some tears, and some understanding on both our parts," she admitted. "But we know how important patience and communication are if we want a future together."

"And you've decided that's what you want?"

"I deserve happiness," Olivia told him. "And despite everything he put me through, it's always Elliot that's made me feel safe, cared for, protected and…

"Loved?"

"Yes," she said. "In our professional relationship, we had mutual respect, understanding, support, and comradery typical of most partnerships. But somewhere along the way, I looked up…and things were different."

"And you never acted on those feelings?"

"No."

"I'll admit I'm more of a practical than a romantic," he began. "But there's something to be said for waiting over twenty years for the right person," he continued. "And now, the two of you get to have the best of both worlds."

Olivia smiled broadly at the observation.

"And that is all the time we have for today," he told her. "The next time you come in, feel free to bring that partner of yours. He's got me curious."

Olivia snaps back to the present when she hears his signature knocks. Fresh out of the shower with her hair still wet, she wraps herself in a towel and rushes down the hall. After looking through the peephole, she sees Elliot, eying his watch.

She pulls the door open and his eyes grow large.

"I'm so sorry," Olivia says. "I'm running a little behind," she excuses as his eyes are drawn to all the tanned, dampened skin her bath towel isn't hiding. "Noah just got picked up about ten minutes ago and I—

In the months they've been dating, the two of them have yet to be intimate. They hold hands when they're together, they've kissed a multitude of times with varying degrees of intensity and there's been some 'over the clothes' action after a late-night movie or two.

When they weren't interrupted by a ringing phone, it's been Elliot who pumped the brakes saying if she was still hurt and angry about how he left or can't say she trusts him not to abandon her again, then they should wait.

It hasn't been easy for Olivia.

Not wanting to count Burton, the dry spell has been ridiculously long. Mentally she applauds her former partner for not just giving in to his baser instincts. But physically speaking? Her sex toy collection has been getting quite the workout lately. After the play tonight, she was going to let Elliot know that his being back nearly two years is enough to believe he's not leaving again.

Presently, she was going to inform him of how her babysitter ran late, which in turn made her late getting ready, however, seeing Olivia in just a bath towel seems to have made the poor man snap like the elastic on a fat ponytail.

Elliot palms her face before she can explain and covers her mouth with his, swallowing a gasp. A minute later after allowing her breath, he threads his hands through her hair and begins dropping kisses to her cheek and her neck until he reaches the spot behind her left ear. He opens his mouth against it, treating it with his tongue resulting in a moan. Olivia reaches up to palm his nape, encouraging the mark he's no doubt leaving.

That's why she pays for good make-up.

When his heated kisses burn a trail to her collarbone, he tosses his suit jacket not caring where it lands. He pulls back to find dark, heated eyes staring intensely at him, quickening breaths and kiss-swollen lips.

"Liv can I—

"—Yes."

Elliot wastes no time picking her up and laying her right there on the carpet two feet away from the door. He reverently peels away the top half of the towel as he kisses down her sternum, licking away the moisture as he goes. Then he ventures to his left, taking in the apricot-hued bud into his mouth and suckling on it as if he would the actual fruit.

"Shit," Olivia manages, skulling the back of his head to hold him against her.

Not that Elliot's going anywhere. He spends a small eternity worshipping at the altar of her ample bosom. She's treated to the texture of his tongue rotating in every direction against one hardened nipple while the other is explored with the pad of his thumb doing the same.

Once he's wrapped up the benediction of her breasts, Elliot trails his lips and fingers over the scars he wishes he could go back and prevent. He doesn't rush, giving them the same time, attention, and devotion before going lower.

"You're getting wet," Olivia says, noticing the transfer of moisture from her skin to his button-down.

Elliot stops a hand on the towel still covering her lower half. He raises his eyes to hers, showing her the darkening of his blues and a predatory grin.

"Hopefully, so are you."

With the way he's touched, nipped, sucked on, and kissed her thus far, even at her age that's a foregone conclusion. But to be honest, it began in the shower while Olivia was contemplating what could happen after she told him she trusted him not to jet back off to Europe.

Elliot groans when he pulls away the last of the plush white bath towel to see what he hopes is the result of his ministrations and her desire for him. If Olivia would've known he'd be nuzzling the soft skin of her abdomen, kissing her inner thighs, and inhaling her scent, she would've told him weeks ago.

There's desperation in the speed he uses to unbutton his shirt. Once it's gone, he lays on his stomach, puts both thighs over his shoulders, and uses two fingers to spread her for his warm mouth. He penetrates her with the power and length of his tongue over and over again until she's wet enough to accept his fingers.

Olivia doesn't think a man who was married to one woman for that damn long should be so ridiculously talented at oral sex but as she feels the building of her first orgasm, she thanks whoever taught him their ways.

As Elliot curls two fingers against her G-spot while suckling on that sensitive bundle of nerve endings, he reaches up to renew the attention to one of her breasts. His goal is to make sure she understands what's between them is too strong to ever walk away again. And when she bucks up off the carpet and begins spasming around his digits, it's only the beginning of how he plans on showing her.

Olivia throws an arm over her eyes as she tries to catch her breath but if the huge grin she wears is telling, he knows he's on the right track. He takes the time to get as naked as she is before climbing over her again and devouring her mouth.

"We taste good," she tells him after they come up for air.

Elliot rubs himself against her moistened folds, letting her feel the full weight of him.

"And you feel good," he says. "This okay?"

She reaches down and takes his length in her bare hand for the first time. He's more than a little intimidating so she tightens her thighs against his waist and rolls them until she's on top.

"This is better," she offers, grinning. "You sure you don't wanna still try to get to the play?"

Suddenly, he sits up, threading his fingers through her still-damp hair once again. He kisses her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, and each cheek before leaning to one side to whisper in her ear.

"Fuck the play," he rasps.

Then he's pulling back to devour her mouth again.

"Are you ready?" She asks, forcing herself away from his lips.

"Since 1998."

Olivia smirks as she takes hold of him again, pushes up on her knees, and inches him inside of her until he's fully seated. They both eye one another with the kind of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. The two former partners are exactly where they've always wanted to be. With each other.

"Please," Elliot urges.

No longer paralyzed by the possibilities, she begins moving. He grasps her hips as she undulates against him slowly and melodically. Olivia's palms slide easily against his torso as they begin to work up a sweat. She leans forward and swirls her tongue against his nipples, giving him small nips here and there to see what he likes.

Judging by the groans and furthering hardness between her legs, it's an experiment that bears repeating.

He sits up wrapping his arms around her waist as hers circle his shoulders. Languidly they kiss as if it's a Sunday morning and the plan of the day involves avoiding clothes. Elliot tugs her hair exposing the other side of Olivia's neck to his mouth as she does the same to him. He's going to have to blame his hickey on a gym accident unless he uses her MAC. Once she begins chasing her second orgasm, Elliot flips them again.

Laying her out beneath him, he slides his hands up her arms until he's tightly grasping her fingers. He angles his pelvis so he's giving her clit the perfect amount of friction with every deep and penetrating thrust.

"I'm so close," she manages.

So, for added measure, he begins…talking.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've fantasized about how wet you are?" He rasps in her ear. "Where we'd be when I finally got on my knees for you?"

Olivia begins moaning.

"El," she tries.

"Would it be beneath your desk, Captain?" He asks. "Spread out on the island in my kitchen, not caring if the neighbors see?"

"Fuck," she whimpers, grabbing two handfuls of his ass.

Between the friction of her nipples against his chest, the way he's intentionally sliding against her clit, and the timbre of his voice, it won't be long.

"I wondered if you'd like it slow and sweet like this," he says, momentarily lessening his pace. "Or hard and fast," he goes on, resuming his speed and snapping his hips as he bottoms out inside of her.

"Please," she manages.

Olivia gets louder.

"Oh, that's the one," he rasps. "What the captain wants, the captain gets."

She screams with the last snap of his hips and thanks God for soundproof walls. Elliot buries his face in her neck and finishes with a grunt, seconds later.

They order takeout, shower together until they hear the sound of the Hunan Garden's delivery guy knocking on the door, then trade appetizers and eat rice and noodle dishes until they're full.

After the second round in her bed, she falls into a deep, peaceful sleep until morning when she awakens to an empty bed.

But…then she smells the coffee.

Olivia dons and royal blue silk robe with white piping and stops in her en-suite to wash her face, and brush her hair and teeth before meeting him in the kitchen.

Elliot's leaning against the counter sipping a steaming cup when she finds him.

"Morning," he says. "How'd you sleep?"

"I don't know if what I did was sleeping or if you put me into some type of sex-induced coma," she answers, causing them both to laugh.

He crosses to her, plants a kiss on her forehead, and pours her a cup of coffee, making it the way she likes it.

"Any night where I don't wake screaming in a cold sweat is a good one, El," she finally answers. "So yeah, I slept great."

"That's good - great actually," he says. "I'm uh…I'm glad you decided to stop fighting this."

She puts down her mug and wraps her arms around his waist.

"Me too."

The two share a passionate kiss before stopping to breathe. Elliot rests his forehead against hers, dropping his cup in the sink in order to wrap her up in his arms.

"Liv?"

"Yeah, El?"

"You gotta get a better coffee maker."

They laugh together and neither can remember the last time they were so ridiculously happy.

So, in the early morning hours, on a random Sunday morning, after more than twenty years, two otherwise fearless cops, let go of their chicken-shit ways and decide to give in and literally embrace everything they never thought they deserved.

END A/N: And if I had it MY way, this is what would happen before the final credits rolled on SVU. Thanks as always for reading.