A/N: A year later...they find perfection.

DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.

Olivia stands, arms folded, smiling at the fully decorated, lit, evergreen tree in her living room. The events of the evening replay in her mind, and she laughs as she recalls the flying tinsel, the rousing game of catch-the-angel the older kids played, and the way Lizzie wrapped the lights around baby Noah.

Then, as she thinks of her son, something on the tree catches her eye. She reaches out a hand and tilts her head, a silent sigh coming from her grinning lips as she gingerly fingers the little blue ornament, shaped like a Santa hat, with the tiny Mickey Mouse on the side.

She runs the tip of her finger over the rhinestone letters. "Baby's first Christmas," she whispers, a tear falling from her right eye. "It's just…"

"Perfect." Elliot's voice, right in her ear, makes her moan softly. He puts his hands on her shoulders and kisses the back of her head as he squeezes. "This year, it's totally perfect," he whispers to her.

"I can't believe he's already four months old," she says, sinking into his touch. "God, that feels good," she mumbles.

"Why are you so tense?" he asks, squeezing her shoulders harder. "Jesus, honey, it's like you've got anvils on your shoulders."

She scoffs. "Well, I woke up at five because your son was auditioning to be the lead singer of Screamin' Eagle," she snorted. "The rest of your kids had to be in school, three different schools, I might add, by seven. Then I spent the day shopping, cooking, and cleaning while cradling a four month old with a five year old wrapped around my left ankle. Do you know how hard it was to clear out that corner for the tree with Eli hanging on me and Noah clutching my neck?"

He laughs. "Mother of the year, ladies and gentlemen," he teases. He kisses the back of her head again and tugs her body toward him.

"What?" she questions. "Why are we moving?"

He leads her to the couch and, ignoring her questioning look, makes her sit. "Arms up," he says, a chuckle in his voice.

She furrows her brow. "Are you out of your…"

"Liv?" he interrupts.

She rolls her eyes and raises both her arms. He pulls her top off and takes in her form, which has been changed for the better by age and a baby. He lays her down without a sound, sits over her, one leg on either side of her body, and starts pressing his fingers into her back. He stills, then says "Stay, don't move."

She has no intentions of moving, and simply nods as he gets up.

He's only gone for a moment, and he returns with the baby monitor and a small bottle of oil. He drops the monitor into the coffee table and returns to his spot on the sofa, flips the cap on the bottle, and squeezes a small amount into his hand. He tosses the bottle to the side and rubs his palms together, feeling the oil warm immediately, and after a moment he presses his hot palms down onto his wife.

She moans as his hands splay over her back, her head pressed deeper into the couch cushion. "To what do I owe this?"

"Shh," he silences her, his fingers working the muscles of her back into jelly. He runs them lower, kneading her flesh, and he hears her moan again. He bites his lip to keep from grunting, and his hot, greased fingers slip into the elastic of her pajama bottoms.

She smirks, though her eyes are closed and her cheek is pressed into the sofa. "What are you doing?"

He chuckles. "It didn't take much to get your shirt off," he quips, pushing down the flannel pants. "Pants came off just as fast. Kind of like our first…"

"If I kick you, right now, Noah will be our only child," she garbles, nudging his bulge with her foot.

"Just relax," he laughs. He tugs the pants off of her feet and throws them to the floor. His hands slide up her thighs, and he begins to massage each leg, squeezing and rolling her skin.

She feels the rumble of her voice low in her belly as she growls, her legs drift apart a bit, and she's only half consciously listening for the sound of her son from the monitor. "So good," she moans, trying to roll over.

He smiles, his thick fingers pressing harder into her as he runs them up and down her shapely legs. He massages her calves and whispers, "Stay still." Lightly, he skims his fingertips up to her waist and pulls at her panties. He sighs as his palm works under her and he feels the slightly raised scar on her hip. He leans over intending to kiss her back, but she rolls over fast and his lips land on her belly button.

"Explain yourself," she says, her eyes still closed as she runs her fingers through his hair.

"I can't pamper my wife without a reason?" he asks, kissing her stomach again. The slight puff of her figure warms his heart, reminding him that up until four months ago, his child lived there. He nuzzles her stomach and kisses it once more.

She twitches beneath him, feeling his hands work their magic on her front just as he had her back. "El, what's…oh, God, you marvelous man."

He grins and kisses his way up her chest, her neck, her chin, finally landing on her lips. "You've had the day from hell," he whispered, his lips still against hers. "You're going crazy staying at home with the kids, I know you are, and you deserve to have one night to do nothing but lie here and let me love you."

She cups his face and deepens the kiss as his hands work out a tight kink in her side. She moans when she feels one of those hands dip lower, between her legs. "El," she gasps.

"They're all asleep," he whispers back. "They always go right to sleep after the tree goes up. You know that." He flicks the fabric of her underwear lightly, his fingertips inching beneath them.

She kisses him with greater force when his thick digit slips inside of her, her hips buck up and her back arches, all of the tension he'd worked out of her body returns at once.

He adds another finger and wiggles them around inside of her, smirking against the kiss when she relaxes. He feels the motion of her arm, knows where her hand is heading, and he shakes his head. "No, baby," he says softly. "Just relax."

She whines, but submits, and sinks back into the couch as his fingers, which have made her feel nothing less than incredible, bring her to the blessed peak of ecstasy fast. She focuses on his kiss, his taste, his eagerness to do this for her, not wanting anything in return, and she lets go.

He moans softly into her mouth, his fingers working through her release, dragging it out and bringing her down as easily as he can. Beneath him, she melts, she moans, and he feels her lighten. He pulls away from her mouth, lets his fingers slip away from her, and he whispers, "Better?"

She nods, but refuses to let him go. Until she hears the gurgling, then wailing cry of Noah through the tiny white radio. "Okay," she sighs. "Thanks for the short break from reality, El."

He laughs and hands her her pajama top. "I'll get him, you get dressed." He kisses her forehead and gets to his feet, then runs toward the nursery.

She rolls her neck and pulls her clothes back on, the smile still wide on her face, and just when she's dressed completely, she sees him coming toward her, their baby in his arms.

He walks the tiny thing over to the tree, where he meets Olivia, and he says, "Who's that? Is that Mommy?" He laughs at the look on his son's face and kisses Olivia's forehead. "This," he whispers, "Is perfection."

She wraps one arm around Elliot and the other swoops under the baby, and she nods. "Everything is absolutely perfect."

He looks at the tree, spotting the blue ornament that changed their lives a year ago. "Well," he shrugs, "I know, uh, things can always be more perfect than perfect, right?"

She raises an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

He kisses her, their son nestled snugly between them. He rubs her nose with his and chuckles as he says, "We still have one ornament, unopened, in the box in the attic."

She laughs as she kisses him again. "Yeah, it's gonna stay in that box for a while, El."

"I know," he says, looking down at Noah. "But when it does eventually get put on the tree, we'll know we've beaten perfect."

A/N: Next…when Olivia stumbles across a kid's letter to Santa, it turns her hatred for Christmas into a mission to save it.