It's been weeks since the "incident" in her kitchen. Olivia has no idea what else to call it because it's never happened between them before.

After rejecting him she took some deep breaths to calm down. She felt absolutely wrecked and knew Elliot probably wasn't too far off. But when her eyes met his, all she saw was sadness and compassion.

"Liv…it's okay."

"Is it?"

He stepped closer, took both of her hands in his.

"I promise," Elliot asserted. "You've been through a lot lately," he added. "I didn't mean to add more to your plate. You've been so supportive since I came back that I just wanted to return the favor – take care of you for a change."

He pulled her body into his, held her until she took another deep breath and gathered the strength to pull away. Olivia trusted him to transport her son but isn't in a place to allow anything else. Elliot saw that without her having to utter another word.

"I'm gonna go," he said, completely stepping back. "Let you get some rest."

"Okay," Olivia told him. "And thanks again…for picking him up."

"Any time, Liv," he urged. "I mean that."

She nodded, offering him a small smile of gratitude. Elliot leaned to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, grabbed his jacket and left.

Today Olivia stands knocking at his kitchen door because someone surprised Fin in his apartment and it could've turned out much worse. Her own trauma history says as much. She's tired of waiting until all of she and Elliot's issues are resolved before taking a chance on them.

Unless you have a terminal illness, most people don't know the how, when or where they're going to die. And although the two of them have had more brushes with death than a career in law enforcement likely involves, Olivia has been cocky or just plain naïve to think they have all the time in the world to get their shit together.

Having come to that conclusion, she's chosen a random Saturday to start a discussion about where they see things going. Because they never did get around to working on their 'friends for now'. And having let him know that she physically wants him as much as he wants her well…that successfully killed the idea of anything platonic.

After noticing her through the glass, he swings the door open wide, wearing an apron and up to his neck in flour.

"Hey, Liv," he says with a smile. "Come in, come in."

Olivia glances around as she steps over the threshold and closes the door. Every surface is covered in flour and dough. A rolling pin, cookie cutters, bowls and measuring utensils litter the island. Creedence emanates from a blue tooth speaker that Elliot lowers the volume on.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Maureen roped me into helping bake for Seamus and Kieran's party," he informs her. "I got bored and thought I'd try something from scratch."

"You? Baking? From scratch, no less?" She asks. "Surely there's a pod around here you crawled out of," she adds, dramatically looking over his shoulder.

"Both my therapist and my primary care doc recommend channeling my energy into something other than the gym," he informs her.

Since clearly, he won't be burning any energy with his former partner.

"Ayanna and the rest of OC must love that," Olivia says looking at the previous batches of cookies. "They any good?"

Is she flirting with him? Olivia doesn't know any more. Sometimes it's like sneezing. She has no control over it. Especially when he's being sweet, baking for his grandsons.

Elliot offers a smirk, forever the cocky one.

"Bell threatened to bench me if I didn't stop trying and I quote, 'to fatten up the squad'," he tells her. "Apparently last week's orange cranberry scones were the final straw," he adds, laughing. "Didn't stop her from eating the last one though."

Olivia peels off her coat, drops it and her bag on the sofa before returning to the kitchen. He feigns unusual focus with spooning dough onto a cookie sheet, all the while eyeing her every move. She approaches him, looking curiously over his ingredients.

"Don't you dare try to drop them off at SVU," she warns, dipping a finger into his bowl of oatmeal raisin mixture. "I don't need any of my detectives hindered in a foot race."

Before she can taste anything, Elliot grabs the digit and closes his warm mouth over it, to Olivia's total shock and immediate arousal. When she meets his eyes, he looks just as surprised. Apparently flirting is like sneezing for him too. Couldn't help himself. But she watches his eyes darken as he releases her finger at a snail's pace, dragging his lips across her skin. Her breath is caught. She's speechless.

"Sorry," he offers. "I don't want you hindered either."

Slowly, she nods.

"You know where the bathroom is if you…wanna wash off."

There is no part of her, that wants to wash off any part of him. But Olivia can't say that so she beelines for the bathroom.

She takes a few deep breaths once she's behind a door. Safely away from Elliot and his warm mouth. The same warm mouth that she rejected two weeks ago. If she would've kissed him in his kitchen, he'd taste like vanilla, cinnamon and sugar.

"No," Olivia whispers to herself as she turns on the hot water. "You are not ready for that," she adds. "We need to talk."

Distance is a good idea. She needs to leave. Should leave. But if they don't talk, the two of them will never get to where they want to be. So, she takes another deep breath, washes her hands, and returns to the kitchen.

"Noah likes peanut butter cookies," she starts with. "I tried to make a batch once."

Elliot turns, knowingly smirks.

"And what happened?"

"We stick with the Magnolia Bakery on Columbus, now."

"I'd be more than happy to share my recipes, Captain."

"Shut up," she tells him, smiling.

Olivia leans against the counter away from the disaster, crosses her arms against her chest and continues to watch him. He's diligent and precise. Instantly she knows everything was measured down to the exact teaspoon. If she indulged, they'd probably be the best damn oatmeal raisin cookies she's ever had in her life.

"I've been wanting to talk to you," she starts. "I know there are things we need to discuss but—

"—It's hard to know where to begin."

"Yeah."

Elliot drops the last cookie on the sheet and pops it into the oven.

"I'm gonna take a shower and then…we can…figure it out together."

She nods and watches him leave. Once he's gone, she dons an apron to protect her clothes and cleans the kitchen. Afterwards, when the water in the bathroom is still going, she orders food.

"Where's Noah today?" He asks, surprising her.

Olivia turns to find him in a dark green Henley, sleeves pushed up, dark washed jeans and his brown leather chukka boots.

"Bonding over video games and pizza with his Uncle Fin," she informs him. "He's got his grandson today too so I'm sure they're having a blast."

"Fin's a member of the grandpa club too?" He asks. "Now I feel a little less old," he adds. "Be right back."

He takes out the cookies, sits the pan on a cooling rack, switches off the oven and turns to find her with two brown bags in hand, dropping them on the kitchen island.

"I ordered us a couple of wraps," Olivia says, unloading their lunch. "Didn't see much to throw together in the fridge."

"Were you gonna cook for me, Captain?" He asks. "Thanks for cleaning up, by the way," he says, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge.

She swears he gets personal joy out of saying her title. Every. Damn. Time.

"Maybe."

"I'll call the next time I go to the market."

"Unless you're volunteering to cook me dinner I—"

"—You'd actually say yes?" He asks, joining her on the adjacent stool.

"Maybe," she repeats, biting into her chicken caesar.

"I find that hard to believe."

"I've said no in the past because you included Noah," Olivia admits. "I wasn't confident that you'd be sticking around or…that you were getting the help you need."

"That's fair."

"There have been so many people in and out of both our lives…I need him to have stability, someone solid."

"I get it," Elliot says. "I wanna be that…for both of you," he adds, surprising her. "No more deep cover assignments, I go to therapy twice a week and popping up unannounced high off my ass is never happening again."

"Good to know."

"I'm not oblivious," he continues, chewing his philly cheese. "I know I missed a hell of a lot and that it's my fault," he tells her. "When you said you weren't ready…I heard you, Liv. What can I do?"

What a question. Olivia's loved this man in one way or another for over twenty years. He reappeared like a ghost nearly three years ago and she still can't believe it's really him. The cologne is different. The suits more expensive. The hair gone. But the essence of who and what he was remains. The man she called her best friend, the most important person in her life is back asking what he can do to earn her trust again. As a possibility for more and she's just…how does she tell him to be everything he was to her for twelve years?

"Consistency," Olivia answers. "Keep showing up when I need you," she adds. "Be the guy you were when we shared desk space, made fun of Munch's coffee, tried to stay out of Cragen's office," she goes on, garnering a smile from him. "But also…not."

"Not?"

"I don't want you doing things behind my back for my own good," she reminds him. "Omitting things you feel like I'll think lesser of you for," she adds. "Or avoiding uncomfortable conversations."

"Like this one?"

"You uncomfortable?"

"No," Elliot says. "I wanted us to talk months ago in your kitchen because I don't want whatever's left between us to end, Liv. I wanna get back what we had but I also want something new, something sustainable," he continues. "Because admittedly…our friendship wasn't."

It's true. They both know it. Olivia wasn't going to seek out anyone that could replace him and Elliot couldn't let her go.

"I agree," she tells him. "But I don't know how to get past that first…abrupt and unexpected ending, Elliot," she explains. "And I want to."

He gives her a relieved smile. After two weeks he was starting to wonder if she really did.

"We'll start small," he suggests. "Tell me one thing you want me to know, anything at all, and we'll work our way towards the hard stuff," he continues. "This is good, by the way, thanks."

It's a better plan than avoidance.

"You're welcome, I think that's a good idea."

"So…

"Well, I already told you about Noah and where he came from," she begins. "I'm not gonna discuss my dating history," she goes on. "So, I guess that leaves work."

"Whatever you wanna tell me, Liv."

She tosses what's left of her wrap inside the bag, gets up to drop it in the trash and stays on the opposite side of the island. Olivia decides to get the hard stuff out the way first.

"Remember Richard White?"

"Of course," Elliot answers. "The psychopath that fixated on you early in our partnership – wait, he didn't get out and—

"—No, not him," she interrupts. "Someone worse that left me physically, mentally and emotionally scarred," she explains. "But he's dead now."

"Did you—"

"—No," Olivia says. "He shot himself in front of me, framing me for his death and jeopardizing my career on top of everything else he'd already done."

"God, Liv," he says, abruptly standing. "Fuck."

"You didn't know?"

"Course, I didn't know," he asserts. "There's no fucking way I could have known any of that and stayed away," he adds. "Please tell me you know that."

She does. It's the reason Olivia kept him out of the BX9 case. He'd move heaven and raze hell in order to protect her. She watches as he closes his eyes, takes deep breaths, grounds himself by spreading his palms out on the cool surface of the island to calm himself.

"I know," she says, approaching him. "I do," she adds, rubbing a soothing hand on his back. "I just…really needed my partner."

Elliot turns suddenly and wraps her in his arms.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there," he says, burying his face against the skin of her neck. "So fuckin' sorry."

They stand holding one another for long moments. And when he finally pulls back, the whites of their eyes are pink tinged, their faces creased after being pressed together, both their tops, wrinkled.

"So, what else can you bake besides cookies and scones?" Olivia asks, palms resting on his chest, his hands at her waist.

He laughs genuinely. She grins. It feels familiar. Right.

"Thought you wanted me to keep my baked goods away from you and your squad?"

"Some rules have exceptions, Elliot."

"You have any rules against joining me for a home-cooked meal tomorrow night?"

He picks up a cookie from the cooling rack and tastes it to make sure it's as good as he hopes.

"Can't. Plans with Noah," she informs him, backing away to wash her hands at the sink.

"Next Friday?"

"What's on the menu?" Olivia asks, smiling as she dries them with a paper towel and tosses it into the trash.

Elliot grins deviously like he wants to say, 'you'.

"Lady's choice."

"Good answer."

"And dessert…if I decide to indulge?" She asks, as he trails her to the living room where she gathers her coat.

"As good as the cookies are, I'd go with my specialty. German chocolate cake."

"Sounds perfect."

"That a 'yes'?" Elliot asks, meeting her at the door.

"Yes."

He smiles again, relieved.

"Being back all this time, there's something I've somehow never gotten around to saying."

Elliot steps closer, palms her face in both hands.

"I missed you, Liv. I still do."

She steps closer, wraps both arms around his waist, rests her forehead against his. Olivia takes another deep breath, inhaling his scent, feeling his warmth, grounding herself in a good moment the way Lindstrom has long since suggested.

"I miss you too," she rasps. "Still think this'll work out?"

Elliot pulls back to meet her eyes.

"We always made a great team," he reminds her, dropping his hands from her face. "I don't think that'll change."

It's Olivia's turn to look relieved.

"But we need some ground rules," she suggests, leaning against the front door. "I don't want us to get…carried away."

He places a hand on either side of her head, caging her in.

"No hickies," Elliot says. "I get too hot to hide in turtlenecks and my squad would never let me live it down."

"Ditto."

"I've seen you staring at my ass and as tempting as it may be," he begins with her laughing in his face. "You can't grab it in public."

"Noted," she manages. "Anything else?"

He leans in closer, inches from her face.

"I do not put out on the first date, Captain," he whispers.

"How do you feel about kissing…before the first date?"

"Before? I don't know. Haven't tried it."

"Maybe you should."

"Really?"

Olivia skips answering, grabs his face and meets his waiting lips. First, soft and slow. Then urgent and insistent when she pushes her body flush against his. But as hot and sensual as it gets, Elliot never takes his hands off the door.

"Why aren't you touching me, El?"

"Because you have to go get Noah and if I touch you, I won't wanna stop."

She leans in to kiss him again, with no less heat and passion, this time sliding her hands down and palming his ass. He gasps in her mouth before growling her name then leaning away, hands now turned into fists beside her head.

"Olivia," he rasps. "You have about five seconds to leave or that cookie won't be the last thing I eat."

She flushes but manages to tear her hands away from his body and he backs up a couple of steps, allowing her to open the door.

"See you next week, partner," Olivia tells him as she smirks then struts down the hallway, knowing his eyes are still on her.

"Next week."

After she leaves, Elliot rushes off to take another shower. A cold one.