A/N: Surprise!
Disclaimer: Still don't own them, but still like to play with them.
The clicking and nonsensical gibberish coming from Dickie's room let Elliot know that his son was plying The Sims, oblivious to the goings on in the rest of the house. He laughed to himself as he lifted a hand and knocked on the door.
"Yo!" the teenage boy replied loudly, obviously unconcerned with manners or actual sentences.
"Yo?" Elliot scrunched up his face in annoyance and opened his son's door. "Did you just 'yo' at me?"
Dickie turned, his fingers still on his keyboard, his eyes wide. "Um...I thought you were Lizzie."
"Even if I was, young man, you do not 'yo' when someone knocks," Elliot scolded gently. He folded his arms. "Dinner's ready, I need you to set the table. It's your night."
Dickie rolled his eyes and slumped into his chair, but he nodded. "Okay," he hummed grumpily. He saved his game and got out of his seat, following his father down the steps. "What did you make?"
"Ribs," Elliot said. "On the grill."
Dickie's face formed a small hit of a smile. "And?"
"And corn on the cob," Elliot said, rounding off the last step and heading for the kitchen.
"And?" Dickie asked expectantly.
Elliot turned, chuckling, "And I am not Bobby Flay, there's only three of us."
"Just ribs and corn?" Dickie questioned, sounding almost mad about it.
"There might be a salad and cornbread," Elliot said with a shrug.
That brightened the teen's mood. He smiled widely and ran to set the table.
Elliot checked his watch, let out a muffled curse, and took a small, black flip-phone out of his pocket. He pushed two buttons and waited. "Hey," he whispered. "God, it's good to hear your voice. Is everything on time?" He listened to the voice on the other end speak, whatever was said made him laugh, and he said a soft, "Me, too. No, not...not yet. I know how it would look and you still have to work with...I know you don't care, but I do." He listened again, and he laughed again. "What they think of you has everything to do with me, actually."
Dickie finished putting the finishing touches on his table setting, and then turned to give his father a goofy, over dramatic eye-roll. He made a kissy-face and batted his eyes.
Elliot narrowed his eyes and threw a potholder at his son. "Yeah, I know it will be late, but I'm gonna be there to get you, so just...yeah." He turned away from his son and lowered his voice again. "I love you, too." He hung up and swiveled around sharply, pointing a finger at Dickie. "Rude."
Dickie pointed a finger of his own and said, "Gross." He looked up and aimed a loud shout at where he imagined his sister's room would be. "Hey, egghead! Dinner!"
"Egghead?" Elliot asked. "Have you forgotten how to be a gentleman?"
Dickie stared at his dad for a moment. "Sorry," he said, and then shouted a bit louder, "Miss Egghead, please come down for dinner!"
Elliot slapped Dickie in the side of the head and laughed again. He took a seat at the table, and then he took a long look at his twin children. The last year had been rough on them, with the weight of the divorce, moving from Queens to Manhattan, and learning to live with their father dating again. He smiled as he watched his daughter take a huge, saucy rib off of the platter and drop it onto her plate. He didn't have an easy year, either, but his kids, and someone else, got him through it all right.
"What did she say?" Dickie asked as he scooped some salad onto his plate.
"Who?" his sister, Lizzie, asked, grabbing for a piece of cornbread.
"I was talking to Dad, weirdo," Dickie sneered at her.
With a long breath, Elliot loaded his plate and looked at his son. "She's boarding the plane now, and in six hours she will be home, where she belongs." He nodded once at his son. "Eat, okay?"
"For how long?" Lizzie asked. She jabbed her fork into a slice of tomato.
"That's not fair," Elliot said, upset.
"No, Dad, what's not fair is that boss of hers sending her on these wild goose chases out of spite, to keep her away from you," Lizzie said sternly. "Away from us."
Elliot couldn't argue with her. She was absolutely right. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "How about this. Next time she has to go out of town, we will go with her."
"School, hello?" Dickie exclaimed.
Elliot looked at him, shocked. "Sorry, the King of faking sick and ditching class is worried about missing school?"
"It's senior year," Dickie said, his explanation.
Elliot chuckled and shook his head. "Well, then, I'll just have to make sure her boss can't send her away again."
"How do you plan to do that?" Lizzie asked, a know-it-all expression on her face, her chin and nose turned up.
"Oh, I have ways," Elliot said, grinning smugly as he stuck a forkful of salad into his mouth. He was about to ask his son to pass the corn, but the door swinging open interrupted him. He turned and stood, instinctively reaching for a gun that was not at his hip. When he focused, though, he ran to the visitor with open arms. Picking the
woman up and swinging her around, he pressed his lips to hers and asked a smushed, "What the fuck?"
She chuckled and peppered his chin with smaller kisses. "Surprise," she said. Craning back to look at him, she said, "When you called, I, uh, wasn't at the airport."
"I figured that our for myself, thanks," he chided with a scoff. "I wanted to come get you!"
"And I wanted to surprise you," she shrugged. "I win." She felt her body sliding down his, and when her feet touched the floor, she looked at each teenager with a broad smile. "Hey, guys."
Dickie tried to chew and swallow the meat in his mouth as fast as he could without choking. "Hi, Liv!" he gasped cheerily. "Welcome home!"
"We missed you around here," Lizzie said, wiping her mouth with a napkin as she stood up. She tossed the paper towel onto the table and ran over to Olivia, giving her a big hug.
Olivia kissed the top of the girl's head, closing her eyes. She tried not to think about what changed while she was gone, how much taller the kids looked, how much smaller the living room furniture seemed. She took a breath and shot a smile in Elliot's direction, taking comfort in the fact that he, at least, would always be the same. She brushed Lizzie's blonde hair back and looked down at her again, and she cupped her chin with two fingers. "School starts in two weeks, you know what that means."
Lizzie's eyes widened and she gasped a little. "Shopping! When?"
"Tomorrow, of course," Olivia said, winking at the girl. She stood up straighter and began taking off her leather jacket, but was stopped by Elliot's hands swatting hers away. She rolled her eyes at him and let him take her coat, and then followed him with her eyes as he walked over to the door and hung it on the rack. "What's for dinner?"
"Dad made ribs," Dickie said, appearing beside Olivia for his turn to hug her. He rested his head on her shoulder and let his arms loosely hang around her, letting out a contented sigh. "Glad you're home," he whispered.
"Me, too, kiddo," she said, relieved. She patted his back and said, "It's gonna get cold."
Elliot pulled her gently away from his son and chuckled. "Hungry?" he asked.
"Starving," she said, eyeing him as though he was her dinner. Her eyes flickered as her smirk tilted in a way that made known her need for more than just food.
He stiffened, and then cleared his throat. He tugged on his pants on his way back to the table, giving her a playful shove. He pulled out a chair for her, watched her sit, and then took back his seat beside her. "So, uh, how did it go?"
"Case closed," she said, and with the words her face fell.
He saw the color drain from her face, the almost sick look in her eyes as her body seemed to shrivel. "Oh," he said knowingly, "Oh, honey." He reached out and rested his hand on her back, slowly rubbing calming circles on her.
She took a deep breath and looked at him. "Never gets easier," she said softly, her mind flashing rapidly, memories of each and every kill-shot she'd taken in her career, the same guilt and self loathing filling her up after each one. She shook it off and let out a hard puff of air. "I need a plate," she said, changing the subject.
Without hesitation, Elliot slid his to the space between himself and Olivia. "What's mine is yours," he said, leaning in and kissing her temple.
"Where were you, this time, Liv?" Dickie's voice intruded on the tender moment.
As she picked up Elliot's fork and dug into the salad on his plate, she said, "Idaho."
"Idaho?" Lizzie said disdainfully. "What was he, the potato rapist?" she said, her brow furrowed.
Olivia laughed at that as she took a bite of Elliot's rib. "No, no, we just tracked him down there. He, uh, he assumed no one would ever go looking for him in Idaho."
"No one would ever go looking for anything in Idaho," Lizzie said, squinting as she tried to recall any geographic marvels of historic landmarks that might attract someone to the less exciting state. "Well, unless they really liked potatoes. I guess."
The small group of people shared a laugh, but the next few moments were filled with silent comfort. They ate happily, knowing that everyone was safe and sound. Olivia and Elliot shared dinner and longing glances, a few kisses, and quiet laughs. It was Dickie who finally spoke up again. "You match," he said, pointing his fork first at his father and then at Olivia.
Elliot looked at his son. "Well, yeah, it just took us a while to realize how much we needed..."
"No," Dickie said sharply. "God, no, please," he said with a disgusted shiver. "I mean, your clothes. You match."
Olivia and Elliot looked at each other, doing full-body scans with their eyes. They were, indeed, wearing the same thing: grey and blue NYPD drawstring flannel pants and a navy blue standard issue NYPD tee shirt. They laughed and Olivia said, "Guess we have more of a connection than we thought."
Elliot grinned and kissed her softly, taking her hand under the table and curling his fingers between hers. He dropped his forehead to hers and whispered, "Don't leave me, again."
"Oh, honey," she replied, "If I can help it, I am never leaving again."
"I'm holding you to that," he said with a small chortle. Just as he picked up his rib to take a bite, his phone rang. He bit anyway, and as he chewed, he wiped his hand on a napkin and answered the phone. "Stabler," he said with his mouth full.
"Oh, now who's rude?" Dickie chided, bringing an ear of corn to his mouth as he gave his father a disproving look.
Elliot threw his napkin at Dickie as he talked. "Yeah, she, um...she's home." He turned hies eyes toward Olivia. "Why didn't you just call her? Wait, me? Why? I don't work for..." he stopped, listening. "Yeah. All right. We'll be there in about..." he checked his watch. "Twenty minutes?" he offered. "Bye." He snapped his phone shut and gave a long apologetic stare at each of his children.
"Go," Lizzie said, pushing the remains of her dinner around on her plate with her fork.
Olivia looked at him. "Who was that?"
"Cragen, actually," he said, pushing himself away from the table. "He needs us, um, both of us." He picked up his plate and fork before looking into Olivia's eyes. "Cross-jurisdiction case, high-priority." He ran to put his dirty plate and fork in the sink, the to grab his gun and badge out of the bedroom.
Olivia got to her feet, walked around the table, and kissed the twin teenagers on their cheeks. "I'm serious, guys, unless I don't have a choice, I'm not taking anymore out-of-towners."
Lizzie and Dickie smiled at her, each speaking over the other, knowing Olivia would hear and understand each word.
"Come on, baby," Elliot said, grabbing her coat and his. He helped her on with the leather trench, and then he sent another look in his the direction of his kids. "Don't open the door..."
"Don't answer the phone unless it's one of you," Dickie said, rolling his eyes.
Lizzie parroted the final rule, after hearing it all every night for as long as she could remember. "And don't leave the house."
"Be careful," Dickie said, sounding a bit more like his father than he cared to.
Olivia waved to the kids and blew them kisses as she followed Elliot out the door.
"You sure you can do this? You just got off a plane," Elliot asked as he locked the door.
She blinked once, took his hand, and pulled it lightly as she headed for the Jeep in the driveway. "I'm with you," she said, smiling. "I can do anything."
He laughed, walking with her, and when they reached the car, he pressed her into the side, looked into her eyes, and smirked at her. "You think he's gonna say something about the fact we're wearing matching pajamas?"
She chuckled. "Not if we change as soon as we get there," she said. "I still have a pair of your jeans in my locker."
"Oh, you do, huh?" he said, pressing himself a bit more into her. "Why is that?"
"Just in case," she said, moaning softly.
He hummed and rocked his hips, bending his head slightly. "In case of what?"
"Times like this," she said firmly, and then she made the final move, kissing him.
He pulled away after a moment, panting a bit. "I love you," he said.
"I love you, too," she said, dragging her hands down his arms. She turned to get into the Jeep as he walked away from her to do the same.
He started the car and looked at her again, taking her in before he put the car into drive. "Coffee?"
"Is the Pope Catholic?" she asked, her sarcastically affirmative answer.
He laughed as he backed out of the driveway. "I'm really, really happy you're back."
She sighed. "El, I'm home," she said, "There's no place in the world I'd rather be than here with you and the kids. You know that."
"I do," he said, and as they drove forward into the night, he figured out exactly how he would make sure Olivia never left home again.
A/N: I missed you all.