6Saturday, August 12th, 2023
Donning, cut-off shorts and an oversized Yankees t-shirt falling off her shoulder, Olivia is taking advantage of her son's absence to clean, do laundry and organize clothes by season before he returns from a month-long dance intensive in a few days.
Despite her hair being in a messy bun and her A/C working as it should, she blows bangs out of her face and damns menopause straight to hell as she takes a break to pour herself a glass of iced green tea.
She's just sitting down at the counter when her phone rings. Checking her caller ID reveals it's the front desk.
"Captain Benson."
"Afternoon Captain," Tony begins. "There's an Elliot Stabler here to see you. Should I allow him up?"
Shock immediately paints her face. She's been cleaning like a mad woman so she knows the apartment is presentable but then she looks down at what she's wearing.
"Uh, yeah. That's fine Tony."
She doesn't bother with makeup but rushes off to wash her face, brush her teeth and change into a less revealing, stain-free t-shirt. She settles for an old NYPD softball tee and notices too late that it has his name on the back.
Moments later, his signature knocks sound throughout her apartment.
It's been nearly three months since last Olivia's seen Elliot, and though she's missed the hell out of him, she makes it a point not to sprint to the door.
She answers to find her former partner with at least two days of stubble, road rash from the left side of his neck to his forearm, Steri-strips over his right eye and bruises that seem to cover his whole body.
But those baby blues of his are clear when Elliot eyes her as if she's fresh water and he's just walked out of the desert.
"My God. Elliot," she manages. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Looks worse than it is," he says. "Can I come in?"
Olivia backs away and lets him close the door behind himself.
"I have a confession to make," he starts as they stand in her living room.
If it's anything like the whole letter debacle, he can take that shit to the grave. She instantly begins an inner prayer. Please don't let this be something that'll break my heart. Again.
"I haven't been working on a case all these months," he starts. "After losing Whelan, nearly losing you…and seeing Kathy," he continues. "I realized going to a shrink sporadically over the last three years and throwing myself into case after case wasn't the best way to deal with my grief."
"Or your trauma," she points out. "Well, I know you haven't been to your apartment because Kathleen had me pick up Bernie's meds from your place and Eli invited me and Noah to an Independence Day barbecue last month at Maureen's with the twins," she reveals as he trails her into the kitchen. "And none of them had really heard from you."
"Is that my shirt?" He asks as he follows.
"Focus, Elliot."
"A buddy of mine has a cabin upstate," he tells her. "It's pretty nice. Has WIFI, state-of-the-art kitchen, a gym, a trail to run on and a lake that's great for fly-fishing. And, I did check in with the kids. Not often, but enough to let them know I was okay."
That explains why he looks tanned and more defined in his light gray t-shirt and Navy-blue cargo shorts.
"So, you took a vacation?" She asks, perplexed. "You could've told me that, El," she goes on, pouring him a glass of tea. "I of all people understand the need to get away every now and then. Why the secrecy?"
"It wasn't just that," Elliot says, accepting the glass and sitting on the opposite side of the counter. "I did video sessions with my shrink three times a week and participated in these…grief retreats."
"Did they help?"
"They did," he answers, managing a smile. "But so did the consistent therapy, the quiet of the mountains and…meditating if you can believe that."
"Wow, Elliot Stabler: Zen Mountain Man," she comments, garnering another smile from her former partner. "Never thought I'd see the day," she adds, sipping her tea. "Still doesn't explain why you didn't say anything."
"I wanted to come back better…whole," he offers. "I committed to getting healthier mentally, but if it hadn't worked," he continues. "I didn't wanna take the chance of not being ready whenever you decide that you are."
"Oh," she says. Oh.
"The night you stood in my courtyard telling me to come home, I wanted to kiss you," he confesses, causing her to blush. "And pretty much every time I've seen you since," he continues, holding her shocked stare. "But no moment was as strong as in that hospital room after you got shot."
She sensed that. But, as usual, she talked her way out of what was plainly written on his face and deflected with a not-so-vague comment about his dead wife.
"Then why didn't you?" She asks, surprising them both.
"I could still see you weren't ready," Elliot tells her. "And as much as I wanted to, neither was I," he adds. "I didn't want you thinking our first kiss was out of my fear of losing you, or you trying to comfort me and I sure as hell wasn't gonna do it while I was still wearing my wedding ring."
Olivia looks down to find that finger bare. No tan lines. It's clearly been a while since he's worn it. A litany of emotions suddenly hit her, relief finding the top spot, followed closely by fear. He was right, the normalcy of a future in a stable, loving relationship with him may be one of the scariest things she can think of. Mostly because of her fear that it wouldn't last or that he'd leave her again.
"Doesn't explain the road rash," she says, deflecting from the tension-filled conversation. "Or the surprise visit."
"I also borrowed my buddy's motorcycle," he answers. "Two days ago, I was headed back home and laid it down avoiding a deer in the road," he says. "Got a little banged up," he adds. "My phone didn't survive and Jet can't get me a new one until Monday but…I didn't wanna wait to see you."
"What was so urgent?"
He looks around for the first time since he got there.
"Where's Noah?"
"Dance camp until Monday," she answers. "Why?"
"Just didn't want any interruptions if I could help it."
"Now I'm intrigued."
"Did you happen to notice the inscription on the back of the compass?"
It's not something she can wear every day or for every occasion so it took her a few weeks, but she finally saw it.
"What lies behind us & what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us" – Ralph Waldo Emerson
"I did," she answers, pulling the chain out of the neck of her shirt. "I admit though, I didn't really know what to make of it."
Elliot steps closer, lifting the compass, turning it to run his thumb over the words.
"It means, no matter what's happened in our past or what's waiting for us in the future…my feelings for you will never change," he tells her, gently placing the pendant against the center of her chest. "So, however long it takes for you to see me as a possibility, I'll be waiting."
Tears pool in Olivia's eyes as she wonders when he became such a sap. First it was him wishing he could bottle the moment in her office, then it was spelling her name with that cheesy Christmas ornament that he'll always treasure, next came the beautiful compass with what she believes is the most perfect inscription and now this. He's been away for months working on himself to be better, whole and…ready for her, for them.
She stands and paces a foot or two away from the kitchen, taking a few deep breaths. It's all a little overwhelming.
"Things can always be fixed," he'd told her.
Olivia knows there are things in this world that once broken, aren't always repairable. But working that last case together, him being so intentional and sincere with his words but trying not to scare her, she's starting to think he's right.
"Liv?"
"Yeah," she manages.
"You, okay?"
"I'm fine."
"If this is too much or making you uncomfortable, I can go."
He takes her silence as his cue to leave, but when Elliot passes her to head to the door Olivia reaches for his hand, turning him to face her.
"You were right," she begins, swiping at tears. "My not being ready was equal parts how hurt and angry I was with the way you left and…that being with you wouldn't last."
"Liv I –
"—But…I've forgiven you for that," she confesses. "And the fact that you have my heart racing after twenty-five years tells me that maybe I shouldn't worry so much about longevity with you."
Olivia abandons his hand to place both palms against his stubbled face. She steps closer, stands on the tips of her toes and finally, blissfully puts her mouth on his. He closes what little distance remains between them, nibbles her lower lip. She traces the seam of his with her tongue and moments later they're both touching and tasting each other until they're struggling for breath and he's groaning.
"Sorry," she says, sliding her hand away from his side. "How bad are you really hurt?"
"I may have…bruised a few ribs," Elliot confesses with a sheepish expression. "Sort of forgot that when you started kissing me."
"God El, what happened to 'it looks worse than it is'?" She asks, pulling away to return to the kitchen.
"Didn't want you to worry," he says following.
When she tries to fill a dish towel with ice, he takes it from her and dumps it in the sink.
"I'm fine, Liv," he urges. "Really."
"I was hurting you," she tells him, leaning her back against the sink.
"No," he says, closing the distance between them. "You were definitely making me feel better."
Elliot smirks as he leans down to kiss her again, this time keeping it short and less intense.
"So, you're ready then?" He asks after he pulls away. "No more normalphobia?"
"Normal what?"
"In your office, you said you had normalitis but what you really had was normalphobia," he explains. "A fear of normalcy. What Rollins has with Carisi," he goes on. "What the McCanns have minus the white picket fence and Stepford wife vibes."
She laughs but nods in agreement.
"I think if we keep waiting for the perfect moment you'll be sneaking into my room at our nursing home," she answers, grinning up at him. "Yeah, El. I'm ready. I've actually been ready for a little while," she admits. "I just wasn't convinced you were, especially when I saw you wearing your ring again."
"That whole 'found it in a drawer' thing wasn't convincing, huh?"
"Not even a little bit."
"Didn't think so," he admits. "But do you remember me saying I wanted to bottle the moment we had in your office?"
She'll never forget it.
"Of course, but we've had a million of those moments."
"I know," Elliot tells her. "And after I retired, I felt like I'd taken every single one for granted," he confesses. "As satisfying as it was putting away bad guys at SVU, all those moments we had sharing a meal, or making up games on stakeouts, even the times we argued, made me stay long past the point I should've left."
"You stayed for me," Olivia concludes.
"No," he corrects. "I stayed with you…until I couldn't but as we both know, things change," he points out, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. "This time in a good way. And I never wanna leave you again, Liv."
"Please don't," she manages, tearing up. "I don't think I'd survive it a second time."
He swipes her tears away with his thumbs, palms her face and starts kissing her again. He grazes on her lower lip, then dips into her mouth tasting her very essence. Olivia moans, wrapping her arms around his waist, pulling him closer and melding his body against hers. When she slides her hands beneath his t-shirt, intimately touching his skin for the first time, Elliot growls.
"Was that a good sound or a bad sound?" She asks, pulling away to smirk up at him.
"Both," he answers. "As phenomenal as it feels to have your hands on me—
"—You were in a motorcycle accident two days ago and it still hurts like a bitch."
He exhales in frustration.
"Yeah," he admits. "If I wasn't already sore, I'd punch myself in the face."
She laughs as she moves her palms to his chest.
"It's probably best not to—
"—Christen every room in this place and piss your neighbors off with how loud we'd be?"
Olivia raises her brows in surprise but smiles at his hubris.
"Someone's confident."
"My self-restraint only goes so far, Liv."
Her eyes drop to his crotch.
"I can see that," she tells him. "I know you didn't want an ice pack earlier but—
"—Ha, ha," he says, taking her hand, leading her to the living room. "Can we just sit, maybe order some take-out?"
"Can you sit with all that going on?" Olivia asks, gesturing to his obvious erection.
Elliot snaps.
"Ah, fuck this."
He ignores his sore muscles and excoriated skin, turns with the swiftness of a cheetah and presses her against the nearest wall. Her arms instinctively wrap around his neck as he devours her mouth. Then, he opens his, lavishing his warm tongue over the sensitive skin below her left ear.
Olivia raises her right leg to put around his waist, pulling his hard-on against her center. He takes that as his cue to move, slowly undulating his hips as one of his hands drops down to palm her ass. Her nipples harden. Between the friction against his sinewy chest, the warmth of his mouth on her neck and the movement against her center, she doesn't remember the last time she was so wet, so fast.
"I wanna taste you, Liv."
She groans. Literally, groans hearing his deep, raspy voice in her ear.
"Damn that fucking motorcycle."
He laughs when he pulls back to eye her equally dark and dilated pupils.
"Thanks to a helmet my head doesn't hurt," Elliot says, morphing a playful grin into a predatory smile. "Use your imagination, Benson."
If he is suggesting that she rides his face like a jockey in the Kentucky derby, Olivia may be just keyed up enough to take him up on it.
"It's too much," she tries. "I don't wanna hurt you."
Elliot steps back, kicks off his sneakers and peels off his t-shirt.
"Let me be the judge of that."
He closes the distance between them again, reaches for the button of her shorts.
"Okay?"
She nods her affirmation.
"Right here?"
"Right here, right now."
He lowers her zipper, lets her shorts fall to the floor and watches as she kicks them to the side leaving her in a pair of black cotton panties. Elliot eyes her in his old NYPD t-shirt and her underwear then bites his lower lip.
"I think this is my new favorite outfit of yours," he begins, kneeling in front of her. Olivia's palms rest on his shoulders as he smooths his warm, work-hewn hands up her legs, tracing the contours of her curves as he goes. Once he reaches her waist, Elliot slightly raises the t-shirt, his t-shirt, and places an open-mouth kiss on the skin just above her underwear.
He holds her eyes as he hooks his fingers beneath the dark fabric, pausing to make sure. She covers his hands with hers, starting to pull at them herself before he takes over, dropping them at her feet to discard with her shorts and his shirt.
Elliot leans towards the newly revealed flesh and inhales deeply.
"I bet you taste as good as you smell."
With that he lays back, reaches up for her hands. She obliges and kneels over his waist.
"You sure I won't hurt you?" She asks one last time.
He leans up on his elbows, kissing her deeply to encourage her forward movement. Olivia crawls over him as he lays flat, gasping as Elliot wastes no time parting her. She fists her hands against the carpet when he gives her a long slow lick of his tongue from her entrance to her clit.
"Fuck," she manages. "Do that again, El."
Half of her can't believe she just gave Elliot Stabler those instructions in her aroused voice and the other questions why the hell she waited so long. The last three years are a jumbled mess in her brain as he penetrates her with his tongue.
"Shit," she manages.
Olivia combs through her luxurious mane with both hands as he palms her ass, encouraging the rolling of her hips. He wasn't riling her up earlier, Elliot literally wants her to ride his face and she's too filled with unimaginable pleasure not to see why. There's no way she can ignore him after this.
He undulates his tongue against her walls as she moves, Olivia trying to increase the pace before the burn in her thighs becomes unbearable. When Elliot angles her forward so that his nose purposefully rubs against her clit, she nearly loses her rhythm.
"Son of a bitch!"
She's panting like she's in a marathon, her heart is beating at the pace of a hummingbird and all her nerve-endings spread from her center outward until she's orgasming on a shout. Elliot gives her a minute before turning them, crawling over her body, leveling his face with hers.
"Was that too much?" He asks, smirking.
"Fuck you," she says smiling before pulling him down for a kiss. "Now get me off this floor and take me to bed, Stabler."
Two hours later…
Olivia steps out of the shower ahead of Elliot, just in time to hear her cell ringing on her nightstand. The caller I.D. tells her it's the front desk again.
"Hey, Tony."
"Hi, Captain Benson, I hate to bother you," he begins. "But there's been a noise complaint."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," he confirms. "Most of the tenants are away on vacation but Mrs. Mankowitz doesn't leave much and she was hoping I could ask you to…turn your TV down."
Elliot exits the bathroom, wrapped in a towel.
"Turn my—
"—Yes, Captain. That's what I told her the noise was after I left Kevin down here and came up to investigate," he explains. "So, can you turn it down for me?"
"Absolutely, Tony and thanks for…explaining things to Mrs. Mankowitz."
Elliot raises his eyebrows in question as she disconnects the call and returns her phone to the nightstand.
"What's that about?"
"Noise complaint," she says, opening her drawers to get dressed. "Apparently one of us was too damn loud."
Elliot grins as he catches a pair of sweatpants she tosses in his direction.
"It wasn't me," he asserts, dropping the towel as he pulls them on. "I've been groomed to be quiet during sex from having so many kids in the house."
"Then the acoustics in the shower must've amplified that loud grunting you were doing like you were lifting a half ton of weights," she says, picking out and wearing baby blue, white laced trimmed satin panties before reaching for a white oversized button-up.
"That mine too?"
"How many clothes of yours do you think I have, Elliot?" She asks. "And when would I have gotten it?"
He shrugs his shoulders as she disappears into the bathroom to discard the towel.
"Grunting while you had me in your mouth," he begins, ignoring the question. "Wasn't nearly as loud as you screaming, 'harder El, fuck', while I was moving you on my lap in bed."
She approaches him with a smirk, circling her arms around his neck as his hands rest on her waist.
"Agree to disagree," she says, covering his lips with hers. "We just need to be quieter next time, unless you only wanna do this at your place?"
"We can do both," Elliot offers. "Quiet here and as loud as you want at my apartment, plus my bed's bigger."
"Or on the couch in my office after hours," Olivia surprises him with. "What? Don't act like you haven't thought about it."
"I have," he admits, sliding his hands to her back, pulling her closer. "As well as the spacious-looking back seat of your department-issued SUV."
She shakes her head but laughs at his suggestions.
"Ah, the possibilities."