A/N: Christmas dinner at the Stablers comes with a few uninvited guests!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, I just own this story about them. Don't sue me. K?
The lights from the tree blink in time with the Christmas carols blasting from the surround sound. She shifts, moving over and out of the direct line of the glare. With a heavy sigh, she looks down into her mug of spiked nog, shakes her head, and laughs at her situation. She brings a hand to her head and sinks deeper into the couch, unaware someone is watching her.
She feels him staring as the song changes, she smirks when she senses that he's moving closer, and she slowly turns her head to meet his gaze when he plops beside her. "Don't," she warns, but her lips curl, her eyes sparkle.
He wags his eyebrows, licks his lips, and moves in anyway, willing to take whatever consequences she will give. His lips land on hers and they both moan, his left hand presses into the back of the sofa as his right smooths up her body and cups the back of her neck.
He pulls away first, though it's only because they have guests and kissing her any longer would mean a public showing of more than just affection. "All better?" he asks, a cocky grin on his face. He always cheers her up; his kiss makes everything better.
She raises an eyebrow. "Your ex-wife showed up," she says with an air of annoyance. "With my ex-boyfriend, I might add. So no, not all better."
He chuckles and squeezes the nape of her neck, listening to her soft moan, easing some of the tension. "We have enough food, plenty of room," he tells her. "And it's not bothering me, baby." He leans in again and kisses her once more, a deeper more soulful moment, and he licks her lips as he retreats. "So fucking sweet."
"That's the eggnog," she breathes, though her free hand reaches for his shoulder, and she begins to pull him closer.
He shakes his head. "No, Liv, it's all you, baby," he whispers back, and his lips are on hers again before she can respond.
They lose focus, lose track of time, forget about their guests, and within a few seconds, there's a mug and a puddle of nog on the hardwood, she's flush against the couch, and he's nearly on top of her with one leg between hers and the other around her.
The clearing throat is what breaks them apart and they look at the intrusive eyes of a mildly amused but very irritated blonde. "Sorry, Elliot, but I don't see any mistletoe," she speaks, folding her arms.
Elliot licks his lips again but this time it's out of sheer frustration. He wraps his arms around Olivia, keeping her in front of his rather large and potentially embarrassing bulge. He swivels her around, sits up straight, and says, "We don't need mistletoe, Kathy."
Kathy purses her lips and tilts her head, and then she asks another question. "Do you need help setting the…"
"Table's been set since noon," Olivia interrupts, her hand skimming up and down Elliot's chest. "Food's almost ready, cookies and pies are done and on the counter, we got this." She rests her head on Elliot's shoulder and gives her best placating smile. "Are you enjoying your date? How did you meet Kurt?"
Kathy stiffened. "He was doing a piece...some exposé on drugs being sold in hospitals, and when he came to Mercy, he talked to a few of us, and…"
"You know he dated Liv?" Elliot interjects. He grins smugly at Kathy as he kisses Olivia's forehead. "I mean, years ago, before we…"
"And only for a few weeks," Olivia adds, a sardonic smile on her face as she snuggles in Elliot's lap. She knows what he's doing and she quickly becomes a willing participant. "But still, he…"
"Seriously?" Kathy scoffs, she rolls her eyes and lets her arms uncross. "Again, I come second to you." She gestures to Olivia and storms away, feeling less like trying to come between her ex and his current and more like drowning her sorrows in the eggnog.
Elliot and Olivia laugh as Kathy sulks away, and they turn toward each other intent on another kiss, but they break apart as another sound distracts them.
"Who the hell is that, now?" Olivia asks, annoyed. "Everyone's here!"
Elliot shrugs as he swats her ass hard and growls lowly at her. "Let's go find out, huh?" He kisses her lips fast and gives her a playful shove as he stands, then takes her hand and pulls her up. He makes her dance to the cheerful music as they head for the door, together, and he kisses her fiercely as he grabs the knob.
As they see who's standing on the stoop, they stop dancing. Elliot's grip on Olivia tightens, but it's little more than an attempt to control his temper. "Why?" is the only word that comes of his mouth.
Not "hello," not "Merry Christmas," but simply… "Why?"
The man on the porch takes off his hat, placing it almost solemnly over his heart. "I needed to explain."
"Now? Tonight?" Elliot huffs, his chest puffs out defensively and his nostrils flare. His dark green shirt crinkles and his bright red tie flips upward as a gust of wind blows past them. "Are you serious?"
The man looks at Olivia, hoping to have her on his side, but he's met with a blank expression that he can't decipher. "Well, it's Christmas," the man states with a small, hopeful smile. "If anyone can be gracious on Christmas, it's you, Elliot."
Of course, the man would use Elliot's religion against him. Elliot turns and whispers something in Olivia's ear, and she nods before kissing his cheek. He watches her leave his side, and when he's sure she is mingling with guests and doling out jobs to the kids, he steps out into the frigid night and closes the door behind him.
Arms crossed, due to fury and freezing, he juts his chin. "Explain," he barks. "Fast."
The man exhales and puts his hat on, figuring out that he isn't staying long. "I was just…"
"Doing your job," Elliot interrupts. "We heard that excuse. Me and Liv, we were just doing our jobs, too. No one got hurt because of us doing our jobs. You made a choice, and it had nothing to do with your job!"
The man clears his throat. "I'm sorry you see it that way," he says, and he holds out both hands. "Put yourself in my shoes. You get the call that two of your best detectives are chasing a lead and the lead is you, you find out why, you panic...but you know what you have to do, don't you?"
"Don't give me that," Elliot sneers, his eyes are narrow, his arms fold tighter in the cold. "She trusted you! We both trusted you!" He shakes his head. "You waited until we got the collar, right? Until the case of the century was closed on your watch, and then you up and leave? When we needed you the most? Some captain, Cragen!"
"Elliot, I couldn't effectively lead the unit anymore," Cragen almost whispers. "When my name came up in your investigation, I had to act fast. I couldn't jeopardize your case, or the one I'd been working on for decades...and I know what you're both thinking, but you're wrong! I swear, Elliot, you're wrong."
Elliot takes a step. "Really? We're wrong about you keeping that fact that her father was a cop a secret? We're wrong about you knowing exactly who she was when she walked into the unit? Oh, and I guess we're wrong about the fact that you're the one that fucking sold her out? To Porter? That dirty agent meant more to you than we did!"
"No!" Cragen yells, and he's almost crying as he speaks. "No, God, Elliot! Okay, you're right, I knew who she was when I hired her, but I didn't find out about her father until you did! I never gave Porter any information he didn't already have from someone else! The only thing I am guilty of is working a cold case...one I never thought would interfere with anything current, ever! I'm sorry you both had to find out that I was responsible. I know she blames me for…"
"She doesn't blame you," Elliot speaks, it's soft and genuine. "Is that why you took off? Because you thought she'd blame you?"
Cragen is silent. He blinks once.
"She's upset that you didn't believe her mother," Elliot states. "God, but she knows that we're probably the only two cops in the world that would believe a drunk complaint. She's fully aware that back then…"
"I should have believed her," Cragen says, and he takes off his hat again and steps toward Elliot. "I left because I couldn't look her in the eyes after she found out I was the one who took her mother's first statement, knowing that I could have saved her a lot of pain."
Elliot takes a breath. "Go inside, tell her that," he reaches for the doorknob. "While you're at it, tell Munch and Fin why you abandoned ship. It's been months, man, they're a little bit pissed off, too."
Cragen inhales as he watches Elliot pull open the door, and he slowly steps into the foyer. He looks around at the lavishly decorated house, the long table that greets him further in the room is set for ten, but he spies Kathleen and Maureen Stabler shifting things around and adding three extra plates. He smiles as he sees Olivia making her way to the table carrying a beautifully browned turkey on a platter, and after she sets it down he chuckles. Her shirt is the same color as Elliot's, the bow in her hair the same red as his tie. He then looks at everyone else, Kathy and a man he thinks looks vaguely familiar, Elliot's twins, Munch and Fin, and their dates.
"Go," Elliot ushers, nudging Cragen forward. "Sit." He makes his way toward the head of the table, takes the knife that Olivia hands him, and he makes an exaggerated face as he starts carving the turkey.
All eyes are on Cragen, but no one speaks, it's not time.
Cragen nods politely at everyone as he takes off his coat and sits on a chair near the end of the table. He feels the eyes on him again and he turns, and he says, "Merry Christmas, John."
"Still Jewish," Munch replies with a nod. "What are you doing here?"
"Apologizing," Cragen says, and then he adds, "To my family." He takes the offered bowl of fresh rolls, picks one out for himself, and then passes it along. "Who, um...who's running the unit?"
"Guy named Riggs," Munch says, scooping mashed potatoes onto his plate. "Tucker offered the gig to Elliot, but he was pretty adamant about staying with Liv."
"Yeah, uh, he would be," Cragen interrupts, taking the potatoes from Munch. "What happened, while I was gone?"
Munch grabs the salad bowl and makes himself a plate, and then signals someone down the other end of the table to pass the dressing. "Tucker backed off, believe it or not," he says. "He was invited to this shin-dig, but he already had plans with his family in Colorado."
"Tucker?" Cragen scoffs. "Okay, what else? I mean, fill me in, please."
Munch opens his mouth but before he can speak, there's a cling-clang from the end of the table.
"Excuse me," Elliot shouts, clinking a spoon against a glass. "Thank you all, so much, for being with us tonight. We love you all…" he sends a look toward Kurt, who looks pale and uncomfortable, "Well, okay, not you, pal…" he shrugs as the table erupts in laughter. "You're all here, tonight...some came as a surprise, some were more of a shock," he looks at Cragen, "But you're family, and Liv, the kids, and I are thankful for all of you. Merry Christmas, everyone," he says, and he raises his glass.
Everyone follows suit, toasting, and when it settles, the low drone of chatter and chewing starts. Cragen looks at Munch again. "Pardon me, a minute," he says, and he tosses his napkin on the empty plate in front of him. He slips his chair out and stands, moves to the far left, and rests his arms on Olivia's shoulders, bending to hug her as she sits.
Olivia is frozen, her eyes find Elliots, and as they well with tears, she hears Cragen whisper, "I'm so sorry," and he squeezes her tighter. She sees Elliot smile and nod, and then closes her eyes as she turns in her chair and hugs him back.
Elliot smiles, watching. His family really is complete now. Almost. His eyes twinkle, then, and he decides that this year, New Year's Eve will be extra special.
A/N: Happy Christmas Eve, everyone!
