Rating: K, all welcome
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Spoilers: Does season 5 count as a spoiler?
Pairing(s): Elliot/Olivia, Olivia/Others
Summary: Post-ep for "Lowdown". Elliot finds a way to tell Olivia how gorgeous she is.
A/N: Something light and shippy to make up for all the angst I have been doling out lately :)
His partner had changed a half an hour before. She'd disappeared into the break room wearing her usual no-nonsense work attire and emerged shortly after in a sleek, dark blue dress with long sleeves and a plunging back. High black heels had clicked against the floorboards as she descended the stairs and retook her seat. Elliot watched in his peripheral vision as she painted her lips a redder shade than she'd ever wear while on the job. For a moment, her eyes remained intent on her reflection, mirrored by the blank computer screen. Then she capped the lipstick and fell back in her chair, opening a drawer and throwing the tube inside. Letting out a sigh, Olivia had shut the drawer and begun riffling through the contents of her overflowing inbox. Elliot glanced up from his paperwork as she pulled out a file, opened it and started reading. He'd looked at his watch then silently returned to his own overflowing inbox.
That had been a full half hour before. He knew his partner had a date. He knew she'd already postponed that date more than once. He knew she was now close to being late for that date. And yet, there she remained, in the seat opposite, at the desk opposite, eyes trained on her task. Whenever he looked over at her, her red-stained lips curved into an unhurried smile, before her smokily-brushed eyes returned to their place in the case file. Eventually, his partner gave another sigh and picked up her phone. She was just about to dial when Elliot broke his silence.
"You can't keep cancelling on the guy."
Olivia ignored him.
He watched as she dialed, waited until her date answered then said in a smooth, convincing tone that not even he would've been able to detect deception in that she'd been held up at work. Her lips smiled as she listened to her date's reply. She laughed softly when he told a joke and murmured in the affirmative when he presumably suggested a rain check. Her smile disappeared as she ended the call. Elliot tipped back in his chair, hands knitting together behind his head.
"Come on, Liv. That's the third time in a week."
Olivia rubbed the wrinkles between her brows. "I'm tired."
"You're wallowing," he corrected mercilessly. "And it doesn't suit you."
His partner glanced at her wrist, adjusting her gold watch. "Weren't you supposed to leave, like, an hour ago?"
"I don't clock out 'til I know my partner's okay," he told her, rocking back and forth in his seat.
Olivia left her desk. "I'm fine."
"Always so convincing," he muttered, watching her roam over to the squadroom kitchenette.
"Wanna grab a bite?" she mused, picking up the empty coffee pot then putting it down again. "I'm starved…"
"You just cancelled your dinner plans," he pointed out, rising and heading towards her. "For no good reason."
She turned, leaning back against the counter and crossing her arms. "S'that a no?"
Elliot faced her, one hand on the countertop and one on his hip. He stood a little too close, brows crumpled as his eyes skated over her face. "What's bothering you? Is it the HIV thing or the gay thing?"
Her eyes dropped to the floor. "I have to choose?"
He paused as two fellow detectives strode through the squadroom, a slack-jawed suspect in custody. They locked the man up, delivered a few parting quips then departed down the adjoining hallway. Elliot drew in a breath, asking in a low voice, "You get tested?"
"Yeah," she replied, voice equally low. "I got tested."
"So…the hard part's over," he said, watching her push away from the counter and head for the fridge. "Now you just gotta wait for the results. Which sucks but—"
"I already got the results."
"What?"
"I already got the results." Olivia opened the fridge door, took out a bottle of water then swung it shut. "Warner ran it for me." She glanced down, twisting off the cap. "Off the books."
Elliot stood up from the counter. "And?"
"I'm fine."
"'Fine' meaning?"
She took a sip of water, gulped it down. "Negative. Okay?"
He took a step closer, smiling in relief. "Well, good. Great. You should be out celebrating, having safe sex with whats-his-face."
"Jared."
"'Kay. Dicky name but still—"
"I just," she wandered back to her desk, sipping her water, "…don't feel like it. Not tonight."
"Or last night."
"I—"
"Or last Thursday night," he added, tailing her across the squadroom.
Olivia turned to him with an arched brow. "What're you, my social secretary?"
"So—" Elliot leant his butt against the edge of her desk to prevent her escaping back into her work. "I'm guessin' it's the gay thing then."
She paused momentarily then shook her head. "No. You're right." She put the water bottle down, ran a hand through her hair. "I'm just wallowing."
He stole her water and took a sip. "Look, you date a lot of guys." Elliot took another sip, resisting the urge to smirk. "Statistically, one of 'em had to turn out to be closeted."
Olivia narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, it's easy to make cracks from where you sit with your cozy twenty-year marriage and your perfect blonde kids."
"Perfect?"
She moved to the rack by their lockers, yanking her coat off its hanger. "When was the last time you got rejected? Huh?"
"Jeffery didn't reject you. He was gay." He shifted back on her desk, sitting in the center, right on top of the file she'd been pursuing. "And seems to me that it's you that does most of the rejecting, not the guys you date."
Olivia tossed on her coat and scarf. "But not because I don't find them attractive—"
"That's what this is about?"
"What?"
"Attraction."
She met his eyes briefly then seemed to lose momentum, direction. "No. I dunno…." She ducked her head, slipping her hands inside her coat and planting them on her hips in thought. "Maybe I'm having a bit of an ugly duckling moment—"
"Ugly duckling? You?"
Olivia looked up, head tilting to one side. "Hey, don't let the kick-ass attitude fool you." She moved closer, collecting her purse and keys from her desk. "I was quite the geek back in the day. A girl never really grows out of that feeling."
"So why not go out with this guy?" he asked, eyes on her face as she leaned to one side of him then the other. "You're all dressed up and this Jared guy probably just wants to take you some place nice, ply you with wine and gaze into your eyes as he tells you how gorgeous you are."
"I know."
"But?"
She pulled back, lifting her bag onto her shoulder and pocketing her keys. "But…when it's not the right person," she gave a shrug, glanced to one side, "it just makes you feel…more lonely."
He hesitated infinitesimally, one thumb tracing the red-rimmed lip of her water bottle. "And how can you know he's not the right guy if you won't go out with him?"
"I just…" her head shook and lips sighed, "…know."
Elliot nodded but said nothing. Olivia reached for the bottle in his hands.
"So," she took a sip before screwing the cap back on, "I am going to head home, wash the precinct off me and go to bed. Alone." She headed for the squadroom door, tossing a tired "I'll see you in the morning," over her shoulder.
Elliot didn't reciprocate. He sat on her desktop for a moment longer before dropping down to the floor. He hesitated another moment, one hand lifting to his elbow and folding his rolled-up shirtsleeve a little higher on his arm. Then he turned and strode out the door, after his partner. She was waiting for the elevator with three other cops, all of them in long, dark coats.
"Liv."
She turned. "What?"
He curled a finger at her, beckoning her away from their colleagues. "Come 'ere."
She headed towards him, following him as he retreated to one of the windowsills that faced the elevator bank. He sat on the sill, hands loosely clasped, while she leant a shoulder against the pale, peeling wall.
"What?" she asked again, eyes wide.
He pulled in a breath then let it out. "Elizabeth's favorite fairytale used to be The Ugly Duckling. It was the only story she wanted to hear for years, one of us had to read it to her every night before bed. From one of those thick books with illustrations, you know?101 Classic Fairytales…but all she ever wanted to hear was that one."
He smiled at the memory, looked up to see his partner smiling as well.
"So I remember the ending," he murmured, pausing before adding, "—do you?"
The elevator dinged, its aged doors grinding open. Olivia's smile held as she backed towards it. "'Night, Elliot."
He sent her a nod. "Sleep well."
"Go home," she told him, boarding the elevator behind the other cops. "I'm fine."
He rose and headed back to the squadroom, mumbling to himself, "Always so convincing…"
-x-
Two Days Later
He delivered it in passing, plonking the silver parcel atop the crime scene photos she'd been examining. Olivia lifted her head to look at her partner, "What's this?"
"Leftovers." Elliot turned round, walking backwards to Cragen's office. "All for you." He grinned and winked at her. "You can thank me later."
"El—"
He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, "Gotta update the captain." Then turned and continued on his path.
Her stomach grumbled as her nose caught a whiff of the rich, buttery scent emanating from within the bundle. It was a shame to undo its appearance but she'd been sitting there concentrating on the same six photos for hours, not realizing how hungry she'd gotten. Luckily, her partner had a sixth sense for these things. Locating a fork, she pried open the foil, releasing a billow of fragrant steam.
Olivia smiled to herself. And began eating her lunch straight from the belly of the tinfoil swan.
END.