A/N: I didn't die, I promise! Things have been so dang crazy around here, I feel like I just don't have any time! And I don't even have that good of an excuse. Other than Tuesday night Dick Wolf and stupid Kathy and the stupid writers kinda killed my EO vibes. Jerks.

I know you guys love "Need," and I have some more ideas for that so don't worry (including one for "Screwed," oddly enough). But there's a lot of eps that I watch and ideas that I get that wouldn't work for "Need," but aren't long enough to do a chapter story. Soooo… I'm starting a new series called "Little MOmEnts" (totally stole the OE thing from Rach). This is going to be a series of one shots that are pure EO fluff (maybe smut sometimes. Okay, probably smut sometimes) that aren't necessarily post-eps like "Need" is. Make sense? If you're confused, lemme know. I thought this was a fun idea the other night when Rach was asking me if there was any good EO in "Screwed" and I told her there were mostly just little moments. Aww. I'm starting this series out with the song that inspired the idea. Brad Paisley's "Little Moments." Okay. Longest A/N ever! I'm done, promise!! R&R let me know what you think of the idea! XO, Kinsey Jo

Disclaimer: Only my overactive imagination is mine.

--

"Fuck," she swore as soon as she heard the unmistakable crunch of the bumper of my restored 66 Mustang against the pole she backed into. She instantly covered her mouth and blushed. I'd heard her say every word in the book except that one. Apparently she saved it for really special occasions.

"Yet more proof that girls shouldn't drive," I teased her.

"Not funny, Elliot," she replied. I glanced over from the passenger seat to see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh, hell, Liv. I was just teasing honey."

"I'm sorry. You and Dickie worked so hard on this car."

"Yeah, and we can work hard on it again. I'll just explain to my son that his step-mother doesn't believe in rear-view mirrors," I teased.

"It's going to be ex-step-mother if you don't shut your mouth, Stabler."

I held up my hands in defense. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll stop. I love you," I grinned.

"I love you too," she grumbled.

"Don't sound so excited about it," I teased.

"You're not mad?" she asked.

"Oh, honey. Not a big deal. I taught three daughters how to use a rear-view for something other than mascara application, and I plan to teach Maddie and Kaydee," I said, referring to our six-month-old twins. "I can teach you."

She grinned and giggled, something she rarely did, but had done more and more since we got married and had the twins. "I hate you."

Well I'll never forget the first time that I heard
That pretty mouth say that dirty word
And I can't even remember now what she backed my truck into
But she covered her mouth and her face got red
And she just looked so darn cute
That I couldn't even act like I was mad
Yeah I live for little moments like that

--

"Liv?" I called out. "OLIVIA!" I screamed, running through the smoky kitchen down the hall into our bedroom. My 36-week-pregnant wife was dead asleep, clothed only in a blue dress shirt of mine and a pair of panties, her twin-filled belly keeping her from buttoning the shirt past her breasts. I ran to the bed and scooped her up, carrying her out the back door of the house before it could fill with more smoke. She woke up when I set her down in a lounge chair and looked up at me with sleepy brown eyes.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Were you making a cake for my birthday?" I asked.

She nodded slowly as her eyes widened. "Oh, no."

"It's okay. There's just a lot of smoke. I can't believe you didn't hear the smoke detectors," I teased.

"Your cake," she said tearfully.

"Is just a cake. I'm just glad I got home before you burned our house down," I teased with a grin, wrapping my arms around her.

"Pregnesia," she explained.

I laughed at her often-used expression of the "disease" many women got when pregnant that caused them to forget. Often.

"Four more weeks and the tough-as-nails detective Stabler will be back?" I asked.

She nodded. "I'm sorry about your cake, El."

I laughed and kissed her lightly. "Don't worry. But you're cleaning the pan."

Well that's just like last year on my birthday
She lost all track of time and burnt the cake
And every smoke detector in the house was goin' off
And she was just about to cry until I took her in my arms
And I tried not to let her see me laugh
Yeah I live for little moments like that

--

"Where do I need to turn?" I asked.

My wife glanced at the map, turning it to the side and cocking her head. "Uh, one more block, I think," she said.

"They didn't teach map-reading at the academy, did they?" I teased.

"Shut up. Take a left at the next light."

I turned like she instructed, even though I was pretty sure it should have been a right and two lights later than she said. I watched her, staring out the window, looking puzzled at our surroundings. I reached over and laced her fingers through mine; glancing into the rear-view mirror to make sure our two tiny babies were asleep.

"I think you turned wrong," she said, looking back down at the map.

I squeezed her hand and smiled. "I just turned where you told me to, Liv."

"I think I was wrong," she said in a tiny voice.

"You were what?" I asked.

"Wrong," she muttered.

"I just like to hear you say it," I grinned again, squeezing her hand.

"Shut up, husband."

"I love you, wife."

She stuck her tongue out at me but smiled. "I love you too."

"You want to just try this Chinese place instead of Mexican? Since, you know, we're already here?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "That's what I love about you. Your flexibility."

I know she's not perfect but she tries so hard for me
And I thank God that she isn't 'cause how boring would that be
It's the little imperfections it's the sudden change in plans
When she misreads the directions and we're lost but holdin' hands
Yeah I live for little moments like that

--
"Twins down?" she asked from where she was laying on the couch.

"Finally. Maddie was out like a light, but I think Kaydee wanted to read me every book anyone ever got them. Remind me to thank your brother for the Dr. Suess anthology," I complained.

"Simon apologized for that at Thanksgiving. Three times. Remember? After dinner when Kaydee made him read them all to her?"

"Oh yeah," I responded with a smile. "Glad I'm not the only one who could recite Hop on Pop backwards." I motioned for her to sit up on the couch and I laid down, pulling her into my arms. "Whatcha watchin'?" I asked.

"Stupidest movie ever," she mocked.

"Ah. Harold and Kumar. Where's it at?" I asked. My wife grinned and I knew instantly it was at one of her favorite parts.

"Freakshow," she said.

"Seriously, honey, I don't know why you like him. He's, well… freaky!"

"Just something about him… I'm not sure what it is," she said just like always.

"The poor guy who plays him must have had to sit in a make-up chair for hours," I said.

"Maybe he really looks like that. You think?" she teased.

"I'm sure, honey," I said, rolling my eyes. I reached behind me and clicked off the lamp and she snuggles into my embrace, resting her head on my bicep.

A little while later, the DVD has gone back to the main menu and I make a move to get off the couch, but she's asleep. And so is my arm. To the point where I know it'll just fall to my side like dead weight, I can't feel anything below my shoulder. I need to move my arm, but one look at her angelic face and I can't think of anything but letting her snooze.

I kiss the top of her forehead and reflect momentarily about how I ever managed to get so lucky. I started out in this relationship, a hardened, broken cop. So did Olivia. But every day she manages to steal my heart and I can't help but feel I've never been luckier.

When she's layin' on my shoulder on the sofa in the dark
And about the time she falls asleep so does my right arm
And I want so bad to move it 'cause it's tinglin' and it's numb
But she looks so much like and angel that I don't wanna wake her up
Yeah I live for little moments

When she steals my heart again and doesn't even know it
Yeah I live for little moments like that

--

A/N: Sound like a good start?