5As Olivia packs to leave for the night, the last thing she expects is to hear a series of knocks on her office door. After closing the file on another brutal case, she sent her squad home at least twenty minutes ago. Between the four of them they'd only managed a few hours of sleep at a time in the last forty-eight hours.
"Come in," she says.
Elliot barely waits before he enters. Olivia doesn't bother looking up as she continues to gather files when she adds…
"Whatever it is, I don't have the energy so—
"—I'm not taking no for an answer this time," he tells her.
For the first time she notices the bags in his hands.
"What's going on?"
She watches as he closes her blinds and locks the doors to her office before entering the adjacent room to unload his wares.
Of course, she follows.
"I heard about the shitty case," he answers. "Congratulations on catching the son of a bitch by the way."
Elliot unloads several plastic containers from one bag and plates, two glasses and a bottle of wine from another.
"I hope you like garlic parmesan zucchini pasta," he tells her. "But something a lot less healthy for dessert," he adds, waggling his eyebrows.
"Elliot what is all this?"
He parks the dessert in the mini-fridge in the corner before turning to approach her.
"Look…Liv," he begins. "I know you're either not ready or too…scared to let me develop a relationship with Noah," he adds as she leans against the doorway. "And between the grief, the PTSD, being undercover and…having less than great communication skills, I get it."
"So, you thought, what? You'd corner me at my job and force me to spend time with you?"
He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.
"No," he tells her. "Since Noah's spending the weekend with Rollins and Carisi, I figured after the day you've had, I'd cook for you," he continues. "We could talk or not talk, fracture a rule or two like we used to by drinking this Cabernet I smuggled in from Italy two years ago."
"Wow," she exhales.
"Yeah," Elliot says. "I was gonna offer it to you as a bribe or to hit me with the night of your award ceremony," he informs her. "But we never got around to it for obvious reasons."
"How'd you know about Noah?" She asks, crossing her arms against her chest.
He smirks as he steps closer.
"I was sworn to secrecy, Captain."
"So, Fin then, good to know."
Olivia stands and intentionally brushes against him as she walks past to get comfortable on the leather sofa. He doesn't answer but begins plating their food. Steam rises from the dish as he scoops the pasta out with a serving spoon.
"This a date, Stabler?"
She gets an eyeful of his ass as he pours the red, mildly blushing when he turns in time to catch her.
"Funny you should mention that."
Elliot pulls two candles and a lighter out of the bag and sets them along side the linen napkins and silverware.
"You know, it's customary to actually ask a woman out, detective."
Elliot smiles a genuine smile, joins her on the couch and takes her left hand in both of his, caressing her fingers with his thumb.
"Olivia, will you have this date with me?"
"Did you really cook?" She asks, trying not to be affected by his touch.
"Cross my heart," Elliot answers, momentarily dropping his eyes to her lips.
Something else she's trying to ignore.
"What's for dessert?"
He struggles not to say you as his eyes slip to the deep cleavage of her white fitted blouse.
"Strawberry lemon cream cups."
"Strawberries fresh?" Olivia rasps.
"Organic from the farmer's market," he tells her. "So…"
"Yes," she says, finally. "I'll have this date with you, Elliot."
Olivia's stomach growls right after she agrees.
"And just in time by the sounds of it," he says, dodging a playful slap to the arm.
"Just feed me already," she laughs, accepting a plate and napkin from him. "Where's Bernie and Eli, tonight?"
He sits back with his own food before answering.
"Eli and Richard are having some type of brotherly bonding weekend that I hope doesn't result in any phone calls from our co-workers," he begins. "And mama went to the beach with her friends for some quote ocean time unquote," he explains. "Says it's too damn hot not to be near water."
Olivia laughs as she reaches for her wine.
"Wow," she says after a sip.
"Good wow or bad wow?"
"A 'damn that's amazing' wow."
"I told you…it's a bribe."
She nods her remembrance.
"And you're a decent cook too," Olivia says, taking another forkful. "What other new talents do you have?"
Elliot gives her a mischievous grin but a tame answer.
"Listening."
"Not really new but I'll take it," she offers. "You gonna ask a deeper question than what's my body count been since you left?"
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, embarrassed that it was the first thing that came to mind after a decade.
"Sorry 'bout that," he tells her. "And every other bonehead thing I've said or done since the night I came back."
"That's…a lot."
"I know."
"But not nearly as painful as the ten years prior."
"Ouch."
"This is a good start to making things up to me, though," she adds, chewing.
They finish their pasta one right after the other. Elliot puts the plasticware back in the temperature-controlled bags before topping off their glasses.
"I've missed a lot," he admits. "My own fault, I know. But…whatever happens with us, I never want you to feel like you can't trust me," he adds. "I knew Kath since we were kids and it was still an issue in our marriage."
Olivia remembers the woman saying she hadn't believed they'd had a decade of silence between them. Yet, how in sync she and Elliot still were. Between those remarks and the letter, she was surprised to find the jealousy Kathy admitted to when they were divorcing was something that hadn't disappeared even after their reconciliation.
As irrational as it is, she suddenly asks herself if he's really ready to move on.
"Elliot," she begins, then takes a sip of wine for courage. "Besides bribing my forgiveness with this Cabernet, what would've been the plan if we'd all made it to the ceremony?"
"To talk to you," he answers. "Try to give you the explanation that you deserve."
"With that letter or in person?" She asks. "Because if you had those kind of trust issues, I seriously doubt Kathy would've allowed that," she continues. "And you said it yourself you couldn't have seen my face or heard my voice and left."
"She was my wife not my handler, Olivia," he returns. "I didn't need her permission to talk to you," he adds. "I thought…I thought we were having a good time. Where's all this coming from?"
"I can't help but think the only reason I'm here, that we're here…like this," she tries, "Is because she's not," Olivia goes on. "After ten years, I would've seen you just long enough for an unfulfilling explanation and a good bottle of red before you would've disappeared again," she continues, her voice emotional. "So really…this just feels like the biggest of all rebounds to me, Elliot."
Abruptly she stands, heading for the door. She makes it to the entryway of her office before his words stop her.
"Three times," Elliot says, standing to approach her. "That's the number of close calls I've had since coming back," he adds. "The Albanians set me up, the Marcy Killers sent a hitwoman after me, and The Brotherhood shot me and left me for dead."
Olivia didn't know about any of it.
"And each time I thought about you…all the time I wasted…all the stuff I regret not telling you, showing you," he urges. "You're not a rebound, Liv or some consolation prize for surviving the grief and PTSD of Kathy's murder," he adds. "You're my partner. And I never want another one."
She closes her eyes and wills the tears away.
"I promised myself I'd make things right with you and still…I put it off, made excuses, took you for granted," he confesses. "I wanna do better."
"Why?" She asks, her back still to him.
"Because I can't deal with any more regrets, Liv," he answers, closing the distance between them and putting a hand on her bicep.
"Try living with a broken heart," she manages.
When she makes an attempt to move away, Elliot stands closer. Olivia can feel the heat of him at her back.
"I'm so sorry," he rasps, resting his forehead against her shoulder. "So fucking sorry, Liv."
Elliot takes a chance and rests his hands on her waist, an intimate move they've never shared.
"There's nothing I can offer to make up for not saying goodbye, for…not being here for…for everything," he adds. "But please let me try. Please."
Slowly, she pulls away again and turns to face him.
"It's been a long day and I'd really just like to go home," she tells him. "No deep discussions just…whatever I can find on the many subscriptions my son is having me pay for and maybe the rest of that wine," she adds, looking over his shoulder.
He looks disappointed.
"Okay," he says. "I'll pack up the food for you then," he adds, turning to gather everything he's brought. "No use in it going to waste."
Olivia watches as he blows out the candles and the care he takes to separate and bag what he's brought before she gets her own things from her office.
"The rest of the pasta will be good tomorrow too if you don't feel like cooking," he says as they walk to the elevators.
"Thank you."
"Least I can do," he says, offering a small smile. "I'll follow you down and load it into your car."
On the way to the parking garage, Olivia's mind runs through all the advice she's gotten from people about him lately. The 'explore what's there or move on' from Lindstrom. The 'get it out of your system' from Amanda. And though not advice, the 'unconditional love' comment that Barba threw her way.
Because her shrink's suggestion is the most practical and what she's paying for, his voice has been the loudest. Also, if getting him out of her system was a possibility, Elliot wouldn't even know where she lived. As for the unconditional love crack from Rafa, Olivia can't deny the man has a point. Her former partner has done some ridiculously hurtful shit and yet…
"Elliot," she says, as he's loading the food into her car. "I uh, don't think I wanna eat dessert alone."
"Yeah?" He asks, closing her door.
"Yeah," she confirms. "You went to all this trouble and…I'd really like to…try to move forward."
"I'd like that too."
"But it doesn't mean all is forgiven," Olivia reminds him.
"I know, Liv."
"We have some hard conversations ahead of us," she adds. "I just don't wanna have them tonight."
He nods his understanding.
"Thank you," he says. "I'll try not to do anything to make you regret it."
She starts her truck as he backs away.
"See you soon."
Thirty minutes later…
Elliot has put away the food and poured two glasses of wine. He's carrying them to the sofa when Olivia emerges.
"I know this isn't first date etiquette," he hears as she comes from her bedroom. "But we've known each other too long for me to be uncomfortable."
Olivia approaches the sofa in an oversized Giants t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder and some cut-off cotton sweat shorts baring the length of her legs.
"I'm sure whatever you—
When he turns to see what she's wearing he loses all train of thought and his mouth hangs slightly open.
"El?"
Nothing.
"El?" She tries again, smirking.
"Huh, sorry I…what were you saying?"
"It was you who was saying something and then you stopped," she says, stepping closer. "You okay?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah," he starts. "I'm good. You look…great," he goes with. "That's all I was gonna say," he adds. "And you should be relaxed in your own space."
Olivia takes one of the glasses he's holding and takes a sip. She rests it on the coffee table, grabs the remote and gets comfortable on the sofa, folding a leg beneath her.
"You can feel free to loosen up too," she tells him. "Any genre preference?"
He begins peeling things off. First his tie, then his vest. But when he rolls up his sleeves and releases a few shirt buttons revealing some of that chiseled chest, she can't take her eyes off him.
"Nope," he says, noticing her focus. "Ladies choice."
Olivia settles on the Netflix show, "Lucifer" as Elliot drapes his vest, tie and blazer over an armchair.
"Interesting choice," he says, leaving about an inch of space between them as he rests next to her on the sofa, sitting wide-legged with his hands resting on his thighs.
His cologne wafts up her nose and she thinks it's got to have pheromones included in the formula.
"It's funny, entertaining and I like the plot," she manages.
Ten minutes into an episode Elliot turns to her.
"So…by plot you meant the ultimate and original bad boy, Satan, turns good, played by an attractive man with a full head of hair and a British accent?" He asks with a full Stabler grin.
She playfully slaps his thigh.
"Hey, it has some interesting case files," Olivia tells him failing to stifle a smile. "Besides the other lead is blonde, figured you like her.
"Hair color has never been a determining factor in what women I've found attractive," he informs her. "Especially when they're probably twenty years younger," he adds. "But clearly age is not a determining factor for you."
"Are you trying to get kicked out?"
Elliot raises both hands in surrender.
"Just sayin'."
"Besides, he's not that much younger than me," she comments, watching as Lucifer does his hypnotization trick on a suspect. "And he sings too."
Wiseley, her former partner stays quiet.
"Imagine trying to explain that interrogation technique on video to a jury," Elliot tells her. "It'd be incredibly useful though."
Olivia grabs the remote to pause what's on screen and turns to him.
"Oh really?"
"Of course," he answers. "It'd save us and taxpayers a lot of time and money."
She rests a hand on his thigh, leans in and asks the question from the show.
"Tell me Elliot, what is it you truly desire?"
He pretends to go glaze eyed like the characters before answering.
"I wanna earn a new place in your life and…"
"And?"
"I—I really wanna kiss you right now," he blinks a few times and looks around the room as if he's confused before his gaze lands back on an amused Olivia.
She doesn't put much thought into it. What it would feel like has crossed her mind more times than she can count. And, they don't have to have solved every issue of their relationship for her to put this particular curiosity to rest.
It is a date after all. Some consensual touching is allowed.
Olivia palms his clean-shaven face in both hands, slowly closes the distance between them and finally touches her lips against his. They are surprisingly soft and warm. When she pulls back, he threads a hand through her hair, tilts his head and kisses her again.
He did say he wanted to kiss her not the other way around.
Elliot suckles on her top lip then nibbles on her bottom causing a low moan to slip out between them. Seconds later he's tasting the Cabernet from her tongue. Olivia doesn't even realize her hand is in the top of his shirt until they stop to breathe. For his part, his palm is resting on her bare thigh.
She can feel his heart racing beneath her palm, just as fast as hers. They're breathing as quickly and both have dilated pupils and darkened irises.
"Tell me Olivia," he says in a depth and tone she's never been privy to. "What is it you truly desire?"
It's a simple question.
But, one that she really shouldn't answer in such a heightened state of arousal. Being led by your libido is an issue for hormone-driven teenagers, not post-menopausal women closer to 60 than 50.
Unless of course you spend twelve or thirteen years keeping your hands off the love of your life, knowing he felt the same but that you both were too fucking terrified to act on it and change the dynamics of your work relationship.
And…when that same son of a bitch abandons you for a decade but has the nerve to come back into your life with the body of a Greek god and you have to wait on him another two years to work through his PTSD, stupidity and grief to finally see you as an option?
You get a pass.
"I want your mouth and hands all over me," she begins, undoing what's left of his shirt buttons. "And if I have…anything left," she continues, her eyes slipping to the growing bulge in his crotch. "I don't wanna be able to walk right tomorrow."
Elliot's eyes grow impossibly darker.
"You gotta be sure about this, Liv," he warns. "I'd stop the moment you said the word of course but…doesn't sound like you're asking for slow and gentle."
Olivia smiles wickedly as she runs her hands up his chest and pushes his shirt until it drops to his waist.
"Perfect end to a shitty day."
Hurriedly he unrolls his sleeves and all but rips the material from his body and she thinks to herself that it just got a hell of a lot better.
The next morning…
Their clothes are strewn about on the floor around the couch. The glasses sit empty on the coffee table along with the bottle of wine.
Dawning sunlight streaks through the curtains and lands on the empty sofa. Clad solely in his black boxer briefs, Elliot pours a cup of coffee, adds soy milk and four sugars then heads towards the hall.
He leans against the doorway to her bedroom admiring the scene. Soft light filters through the blinds and lands on his partner. She is on her stomach, bare skin of her back on display, crisp white sheet covering her ass and contrasting beautifully against the tanned skin of her legs. With the pillows kicked to the floor, her arms are crossed beneath her head as the sun dance in her honey-streaked hair.
Elliot's mind wonders to last night and their early morning activities. He'd done exactly as she requested. Gave her orgasms with his tongue and fingers on the couch before carrying her to the bedroom where she screamed loud enough for her neighbors to hate her.
He didn't ask about the scars that hadn't managed to fade with time, and she didn't question his propensity for marking her skin as often as he could. She has love bites on her shoulder, back and right ass cheek.
Elliot shakes his head and smirks as he sips the coffee he's prepared for her. Olivia's going to kill him when she notices.
He moves to sit next to her, placing the mug on her nightstand. After his soft caresses and multiple kisses to her back, she begins to stir.
"Good morning," he says, once he notices her eyes are now open.
"You're still here, huh?" She asks, playfully.
Olivia sits up against the headboard, covering herself with the sheet.
"Luckily for you," Elliot tells her, handing off the morning caffeine fix.
She takes a sip and hums in satisfaction.
"God, that's good."
"You're welcome," he says, rubbing a hand against her thigh. "So... are we okay?"
Olivia looks at him as if he's grown a second head.
"Of course," she answers. "You were there last night," she adds, with a wicked grin. "We're more than okay."
"It wasn't too much?"
She leans in, places a hand on his nape and pulls him in for a slow and sensual kiss.
"It was exactly what I asked for," Olivia assures him with another peck to his lips. "What I needed," she enlightens him. "The dinner, the wine and everything that followed."
"Good," he says, stealing a sip of her coffee.
"So, what made you drop by last night?"
"Bell, actually."
"Bell?"
"She told me something that stuck more than the shit I'm paying a therapist for," Elliot informs her.
"What were these gems of wisdom?"
"Either I could keep watching the pot and waiting for the water to boil, or I could stop being a dumbass and turn up the heat."
Olivia laughs.
"Hm, not that different from my shrink's advice," she says. "I just didn't know what to do with it," she adds. "We've both had the tendency to go the status quo route when it comes to our relationship but if I would've known that you put out on the first date…"
Elliot laughs heartily before leaning forward and capturing her lips for a short kiss, elated that he can do it so freely now.
"Only for you, Liv," he says, kissing his way down her neck, shoulder and into her cleavage as he slides his hand towards her inner thighs.
Olivia begins moaning but stops his forward progress with her fingers on his forearm.
"I need a shower," she says, wrapping the sheet around herself as she gets up. "Why don't you continue that perfect first date streak and order some breakfast," she adds. "Then maybe you can join me."
Elliot grabs his cell off her nightstand as she sashays into her en-suite. He's on the phone the second she notices all the hickies.
"Stabler!"