They pass notes on napkins. Little things, like "I was an ass" or "I want you" or "Munch is annoying" or the one she still can't believe "I love you."
It starts on a Wednesday, after a less than brilliant performance by him the night before. The fifth day straight on a tough case had everyone tense and the leads they were getting from the tip lines were leading nowhere. She was trying to make him see that it had to be the creepy, too old to still be living at home, stepbrother. Elliot disagreed. They were at each other's throats, screaming vile things at each other before Cragen finally pulled them apart. He ordered them both to go home and get some shuteye before coming back and behaving like human beings, instead of soul sucking monsters.
When she came in the next morning, he was already there at his desk with a large cup of Starbucks coffee. There was an equally large cup on her desk and she could practically smell the aroma from across the room when she walked in. It looked so inviting and the they way he was sitting in his chair, more relaxed than she'd seen him in days, made the forgiveness she was already planning on giving go up a few notches. As she sat down and grabbed the first sheet of mug shots to study, again, she caught a smudge on black ink out of the corner of her eye.
Sorry. I'm an ass. Scrawled in his hand.
That's all that needed to be said on the subject. She looked over at him, not surprised to find his eyes searching for hers, and felt her lips curve into small smile. He blinked, surprise flashing in his eyes at the expression on her face.
They didn't smile anymore. Sometime between the Gitano thing and the day he had his fifth child they stopped smiling at each other. The laughter stopped sometime in their sixth year together. But the day he wrote her a note on a Starbucks napkin things started to change.
So started a new pattern for them.
It didn't happen everyday. There was no schedule, but when they each did something stupid, and later when they wanted to say something else entirely, they bought coffee and a ballpoint expressed their thoughts easier than words. They both learned that often times saying things with words ate away at their relationship more than it helped.
They say more silently than they ever will verbally.
When things finally end with Kathy, she finds out on a napkin. It's cryptic and vague, but she gets it. She knows him.
431 E 85th
She knows that's on the Upper East and she knows that street is only apartment buildings and neighborhood bars. They only say important things with the napkins.
When she looks up to confirm her suspicions he doesn't look her directly in the eye, but he has an almost constant on his face.
He's single. He's happy about it.
When he asks her out, it's on a red napkin. She thinks maybe he needed the vibrant color to gain confidence.
When she says yes, she does so verbally. His head snaps up and his eyes lock on hers.
"Again." But it comes out like his voice box went through a cheese grater. "Say it again. Please."
She smiles this time. "Yes, Elliot."
The first time they have sex, it lasts all night and into the morning. They maybe get four hours of sleep total. It is unplanned. He was walking her back to her place after dinner. His plan was to kiss her goodnight at the door and leave quietly. He didn't plan to go in at all.
Olivia had a different idea.
His kiss was brief, chaste. She took it deeper, degree-by-degree. He blames the slow decent into her, because the next thing he knew he was inside her bedroom with his hands on her skin and her scent filling his head.
The next morning he walks in, an hour and a half after he left her apartment, and she's already there. Cup of coffee on her desk and one on his. He looks for the napkin, finds it underneath his keyboard and almost chokes on his coffee.
I want you. Now. Always.
He looks up with desire tight on his face. She smiles mischievously, looks around like she carries the worlds greatest secret, and when her eyes lock with his again he knows that he will never be the reason she loses that look.
They switch partners after a particularly bad incident.
They were performing a routine search of an empty, or so they thought, apartment building. There was no reason to worry about anybody being there. They were assured there was no one around. They were wrong.
Elliot was on the third floor; she was on the second. When she was sure there was nothing worth while in the building, she shouted for Elliot to come down. She was hungry and there was that little Greek place around the corner. He didn't answer, so she went up to look for him. She found him in the last room on the left. He wasn't alone.
The guy was obviously hopped up on something and just looking for a way to get his next fix, but all Olivia saw was the blood seeping from a gash on Elliot's head and the rock the crack head had in his hand. Her only saving grace was that the man had his back to her and Elliot was trying to talk him into giving up. She moved slowly, the blood rushing in her head and the adrenaline pumping through her veins.
It happened fast. Arm around the neck, knee in the kidney, and Elliot grabbed the rock out of his hand. They had in cuffs and a squad car on the way in a matter of minutes, but Olivia knew at that moment that she wouldn't be able to focus on the job, or a victim, if Elliot's life was hanging in the balance.
When he walked in the next morning and saw the coffee on his desk, he knew.
Munch or Fin?
He didn't know whether to be saddened at the loss of her as a partner or elated at the knowledge that she had the faith in their relationship as a couple to need a new partner.
He met her eyes over their desks, and nodded his head with acceptance. The apprehensive look in her eye vanished, replaced by a smile. In her face he saw their eleven year partnership, all the drama, the tension, the separations, fade into the background. And he saw what the future could hold for them. He wanted a future with her more than he wanted to look at her across a desk.
"I'll take Fin. Munch would drive me crazy." And she laughed.
The transition goes smoothly. Fin gripes about having to move all his shit from one desk to another, but he and Elliot get into a workable rhythm and things proceed on from there.
Olivia and Munch have always had a brother-sister kind of chemistry, so when she goes out into the city with him Elliot doesn't worry too much.
The notes are more frequent now. And they don't have to worry about being too secretive, but they're also not displayed for the world to see.
Some are mundane.
Chinese or Italian?
Stopping by Target…need anything?
Fin talks about strippers.
And some are important.
Sorry. I trust you. It's the world I don't trust.
Here's your key to my place.
And some are vital.
I love you.
The first time she tells him she loves him, it's on a red napkin. This time it's her using the color for a boost of confidence.
She's scared. Not of him and not of the future. But of herself. She doesn't have a good track record with the opposite sex. Hell, she doesn't have a good track record with the outside world.
When she told him as much his only response was, "You've had eleven semi-solid years with me. I'm still here, Liv." And he kissed her.
He gets the note when she's out on a call with Munch. When she gets back, he's in an argument with Fin over a witness who is clearly holding something back. They don't talk about it until she gets to his place that night.
"So…you love me, huh?" His voice holds a cocky tone to it. Like he expected nothing less. As if he knew all along and was simply waiting for her to catch on.
She says it for the second time with her eyes and mouth. They make love that night. Slowly, savoring every second. She says it for the third time when he makes her come and she's staring straight into his eyes.
"I love you." And he falls.