So, I owe a big apology for not updating "She Is." I know it's been forever, and I promise I have every intention of continuing. Right now I'm in the middle of a move from Texas to Canada, as well as an impending job interview (Wednesday, YIKES!!) that will determine just how long I leave the States. So here is a little something that I thought of while walking my dog, Cooper. Hope you like it!
And feel free to play along with the music I've used. There are three songs that helped inspire this fic, "Whatever It Takes"-Lifehouse, "Open Arms"-Journey, and "Wicked Game"-Chris Issak. All come highly recommended from moi. :)
Olivia flings open her front door, flounces through her living room, and throws her stuff on the table in the dining room. She is exhausted and just wants to slip into bed with her boyfriend, but that won't be happening tonight. Not after the fight they had this afternoon. Not after the terrible things that he said to her, that she said to him.
She doesn't know if can even still call him her boyfriend.
Not that she's ever referred to him like that out loud, but there isn't anything else she can come up with. Almost-ex-partner-who-you-now-practically-live-with just doesn't have the same ring to it.
Sure, they fight all the time, over big things, small things, but not like today. Today was a quiet, slow-burning exchange of hurtful words that escalated into both of them saying what should never be said.
She looks at her bedroom door, and realizes she can't bear to sleep in a bed that was still mussed from their lovemaking, not tonight. Couch it is, she thinks.
She unzips her boots, sets them on the floor, and sits on the sofa. She notices the display on the coffee table for the first time since she's been home. There is a glass of red wine, her favorite dark chocolate, and her pale green iPod with a note attached. Listen to the first playlist is scribbled in handwriting that is distinctly Elliot.
She puts the headphones in her ears and turns it on with shaking hands. She doesn't know how he beat her home, how he managed to escape, or what this means, but she owes him compliance in this one small matter. She looks at the title of the list, fully expecting to see "Break-Up Songs" at the top. Instead, she is greeted with the confounding symbols
"Less than three?" she mumbles softly. "What the hell?"
Olivia pushes play, marveling at the fact he was even able to add songs to something he considers a "contraption." She knew his daughters had to program his speed dial, so this was nothing short of a minor miracle.
She grabs the chocolate bar and takes a huge bite as the strains of song she can't quite place begin, the screen informing her she is listening to "Whatever It Takes" by Lifehouse. She closes her eyes, letting the lyrics sink in.
She doesn't even realize she's crying until a tear splashes onto her hand. This song captures them, and she can't understand how a big oaf like Elliot can be so damn romantic. She is tempted to repeat the song, until she hears the opening piano notes of one of her all-time favorites, "Open Arms." This is the song that played in the background when Elliot told her he loved her for the first time, the song that encompasses their relationship so far.
The words wash over her, and she realizes she cannot let him go, not for anything. Suddenly she is desperate to get to the bed, to smell him, to call him as she slips in between the sheets and apologize for what she's done. She needs to hope, and he is the only one who's ever done that for her.
But she promised herself she would do as he requested, so she plugs her iPod into her stereo, turning the volume just loud enough to hear from her bedroom. Maybe now she can sleep, comforted by the effort, the words, the emotions that Elliot has sent to her tonight.
As she pushes open her bedroom door, she realizes the surprises are not over for the night. Elliot is sitting on the edge of her bed, eyes glistening, candles dancing in the breeze. Her jaw drops, but no words form, so he speaks first.
"Liv, I-" his voice cracks. "I don't know what happened today, but it scared me. I can't lose you over this."
"Elliot, I don't want this to end either." With that, she is swept up into his arms, kisses reigning over her face, hair, lips.
"I screwed up, Olivia, and I know it. I'm such an asshole, but I'm trying. I love you so damn much," he whispers into her hair.
She presses a kiss to his jawline, the stubble burning her lips. "I love you, too, and I'm sorry."
"It's forgotten, Livia." He pulls back from her, pushing her to sit at the foot of the bed. The sound coming from the living room changes, a mellow tune she recognizes as "Wicked Game."
He fumbles in his pocket, and drops to one knee in front of her. Olivia gasps, anticipating what she knows is coming. "Olivia Benson, I know that I am a complete jerk sometimes, but I also know that I am completely in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, laughing with you, crying with you, even fighting with you." At this she chokes out a laugh. "Liv, will you marry me?"
She is dumbfounded. No one has ever gone to such trouble for her, and she's never been more in love than this moment. She knows her answer, wants to scream it our at the top of her lungs, but all she can do is stare at his rough, calloused hands holding out a small blue box for her.
"Olivia? You can answer anytime you like."
But she can't make her damned voice work, so action will have to suffice. She wraps on hand around the back of his head, pulling him to her. With her other arm she pulls his shoulders upward, aligning their faces just before she crashes her lips onto his. Their mouths meld together, all the worries of the day washing away, replaced by the taste of familiarity.
In case he didn't quite get the message, she pulls back, resting her forehead against his, their breaths intermingling. "Yes," she whispers.
"You had me scared there for a minute, Benson." He smiles at her as he slips the princess-cut diamond onto her hand.
"I just have one question, El."
"What's that?" He asks as he nuzzles her nose affectionately, then kisses the tip.
"What in the hell does less than three mean?"
Oh, and I less than three reviews! ;)