A/N: Had a rough time finishing this chapter, tbh, but I hope you all like it nonetheless.
And, as far as last chapter goes, just learned that LBI doesn't have a boardwalk, so for the purpose of this story, lets pretend it does and I'll be better at my google searches next time? Sorry, loves. Always this is kind of long. sorry again. i'll try to update quicker, but i can't make any promises.
Big thanks to Dreamingforyou1976 for giving me some 80s music and the geographical protip, too.
Chap 10: Mothers and Mo-Mo's
It's around 11AM the next day when Olivia's eyes flutter open. She sits up and stretches, a yawn escapes her lips, and the sun peaks in through the slatted shades of her room. The night's previous events float through her mind. Ethan, Elliot, fireworks, a kiss – kisses. Kissing Elliot, walking along the sand, his hand on her hips, laughs, and smiles.
Serena.
A shudder shakes Olivia as she brings a hand to her face and lightly traces her cheek, then her lip. The skin beneath her fingers is swollen, and silently she hopes that there isn't a bruise. Serena's slap had been sharp and quick, but the fact that Serena also had a habit of draping her fingers in rings didn't help either. Luckily, if one could call it that, Olivia had experience in hiding the bruises that marred her body. Not that Serena made it a habit to beat her daughter, but a backhand to the mouth, a shove into the kitchen counter, or a rough jerk by the wrist was never too out of character for her, especially when she was drunk.
With a sigh, Olivia stumbles to her feet, shoving (or at least trying to) all thoughts of her mother from her mind as she shuffles over to the vanity mirror. Her fingers had been correct in their analysis seconds prior; her lip and cheek were both swollen. A small scratch also rests above her top lip, along with a slight purplish mark along her cheekbone; nothing she knows that she can't fix.
She stretches her arms out in front of her and wipes at her eyes once more.
A smile crosses her lips as she remembers; today she's meeting Elliot. And she's meeting him under far different circumstances.
They're dating – or something of the sorts. They hadn't had much time to disclose the nature of their relationship before Serena had made her entrance. Nonetheless, however, Olivia knew things between them had changed – and she couldn't have been happier.
But she knew that her happiness would have to be compartmentalized for the moment; dealing with a hung-ver Serena Benson was a feat only for the brave at heart.
Quickly digging through the drawers of the dresser that belonged to the owner of the beach house, Olivia pulls on a pair of shorts and gently makes her way into the hall; time to assess the damage of hurricane Serena.
She shuffles into the hallway that leads to the kitchen, and her brown eyes scan the counter top. Empty vodka bottles sit in the sink, along with a half full jug of orange juice. There's leafs of paper every where and a broken glass she almost steps on as she surveys the damage
Serena's no where to be found, and Olivia turns back on her heels and heads towards the room that serves as her mother's bedroom for the next two weeks. Gently she pushes the door open, trying not to make a sound when she finds Serena, clad only in her t-shirt, her greying hair hanging in waves around her face, curled in bed, an arm slung over her eyes. Next to the bed sit two empty bottles of wine. With soft footfalls, Olivia makes her way over to the bottles and slips a finger into each opening, careful not to get too close to Serena's face. Like a child who'd learn not to touch hot surfaces after being burnt, Olivia knew what it did to Serena's psyche to see her daughter's face so close while still under the influence of alcohol. Too often the child of rape and the rapists features had molded into one, and Serena would send a flurry of slaps, flying fists, and pleas of 'Please, stop' in Olivia's direction.
With the bottles in hand, the young brunette shuffles back into the kitchen, making certain to shut the bedroom door behind her. Two pints of vodka, plus two bottles of wine would leave Serena in oblivion for at least six hours, if not more; she'd be sick later, but Olivia knew that the day belonged to her; whatever she wanted to do, she could; Serena was out of commission.
Olivia checks the clock above the sink, and dumps the wine bottles next to the pints, and quietly heads for her room to get ready for the day.
/
She's changed four times; hell-bent on having the perfect outfit, though in honesty she's never been like this. Clothes were always an after thought for her, not that she didn't like dressing up, but she'd never understood the fuss about the perfect ensemble. Now as she stands in front of her mirror, clad in a simple spaghetti-strap, white sundress with pink and blue flowers littering it that comes to her knee, she wishes she'd put more thought into her wardrobe. Each outfit she's tried leaves a sour taste in her mouth; they've all either made her feel frumpy, or kid like – there was no in between. With a shrug and a huff, she stares at her reflection.
"As usual, this is as good as it's going to get." she groans, and then runs her hairbrush through her long locks that hang in waves around her face. She uses the black elastic around her wrist to tie it back and let it hang low, and then sets to work on her face.
Much like clothes, makeup, too, had been something that she'd never really been into. Sure for covering purposes, which is part of the reason she uses it at that moment; careful not to irritate the already swollen skin of her cheek as she applies a bit of concealer, but for the purpose to feel pretty. Serena didn't approve of makeup; she'd contended that it drew the wrong attention, which meant Olivia didn't wear it. The few coveted items she'd managed to possess without her mother knowing had been gifts from her Great-grandmother, a gentle woman of 79 years with a thick Russian accent, who'd enjoyed spoiling Olivia – much to Serena's dismay.
A pat of blush, and some eyeliner later, Olivia takes a once over at her reflection, shrugs, and sets out for the day.
/
The sun sits high in the sky as Olivia stands, legs apart, toes digging into the wet sand, and eyes locked on Elliot's.
"You really sure you should be on that thing?" he questions, uncertainty in his voice as he gestures to her healing ankle. Olivia rolls her eyes. It's been roughly an hour of utter bliss, just the two of them throwing a now long-lost Frisbee back and forth on the beach.
"If you ask me that one more time, I'm going to shove you into the ocean." she threatens with a grin, intending to eventually follow up on her threats, her mind doing wonders to image him, hard body and all, wet.
"Is that a threat, Benson?"
"If you want it to be, Stabler."
"Well, two can play that game."
And suddenly he's barreling towards her, and Olivia takes off to run in the opposite direction, but her bruised ankle renders her moot. Elliot grabs her around the waist and she giggles, her hands gripping his wrists, as he spins them in circles before hoisting her body over his shoulder. He's dragging her towards the water and she clutching his 'Good Morning Vietnam?' t-shirt so hard her knuckles are turning white.
"Where's all that sass now, huh, Benson?" he pushes and Olivia's laughing so hard her side is starting to hurt.
"If I go down," she shouts as her hair slips from the elastic and there's hair in her face, "you're going down with me."
As if to test her assertion, Elliot's hands wrap around her lower thighs and he tries to lift her from his shoulder. Olivia's heart thumps in her chest as she becomes hyper aware of Elliot's body, especially his hands. They're soft, yet calloused, gentle, and yet rough as they rest on her legs. The more he tugs, the tighter her grip on his shirt grows until her knuckles are white – a sharp contrast to her naturally tan skin.
"You've got one hell of a grip." Elliot remarks, and he spins them in place until Olivia screams.
She's dizzy and all of the blood in her body is making its way to her head. Shaking her legs, Olivia wiggles out of his grasp and slips down his body until her feet hit the sand and they're face to face, her chest snug against his, her hands resting on his shoulders.
"I know." she agrees, grinning and then licking her lips.
They stand in silence for a few moments and Olivia studies his features. She notices a few laugh lines along his jaw, and that when he smiles his eyes crinkle at the sides. Her eyes are so busy studying his face that she's caught off guard and plesantly surprised when his mouth ascends on hers.
His lips are warm and slightly wet with sweat; she can taste syrup on his lips and even a hint of mint as his mouth envelops hers. She even forgets about the small cut and slight bruise until his trails his hand up to her body, and tries to cup her jaw. His fingers sink lightly against the bruise, and Olivia winces. A step back breaks the kiss and Elliot stares at her in confusion.
"Did I do something?" he asks, worry evident in his face.
Like a well skilled attorney, Olivia finds her words- the lies coming easily from years of practice. "Oh, no, sorry it's just – I'm not used to waking up in a strange bed yet and – eh this is embarrassing, but I uh, my face introduced itself to the floor this morning - I fell out of bed."
Laughter shakes Elliot's body as he brings a hand to her chin and tilts her face sideways to inspect the damage. Olivia's breath stills and she hopes her answer will suffice, though very rarely have many people ever probed further into her random strings of cuts and bruised. There was her math teacher, Renee Hughes who seemed hell-bent on getting the truth out of the young girl, but never got much more than an 'it doesn't happen all the time.' Abuse was much easier to ignore when it wasn't acknowledged.
"You're so fucking clumsy." he teases, smirking, and Olivia rolls her eyes.
"I am?" she challenges, and in one swift moment, Olivia's hands are fisted into Elliot's t-shirt and she's the one spinning them this time. Once, twice, three times she spins them before tangling a foot in between his and sending him to the sand and on his back.
She picks up the abandoned hair-tie that'd slipped from her hair and wraps the dark brown tendrils back in place. The tide chooses that moment to surge forward, and the water comes to her ankles, and threatens to over take Elliot as he rolls onto his side.
Hands on her hips, she cocks an eyebrow at him.
"Nice," is his only response as he sits up and reaches for her hand, guiding her down until she's just on the cusp of wet sand and dry sand, next to him.
/
They're wadding in the water, knee deep, hand in hand, and talking nonsense when the door of the beach house flies open. In the doorway, a brightly dressed Bernie bounces a screaming Maureen on her hip.
Elliot casts Olivia an apologetic glance and lets go of her hand; they shuffle back to the house. The hem of her dress is wet and she curses herself for not putting on any sunblock earlier; her skin feels prickly and her face is flushed.
"Sorry, El." Bernie apologizes, coming down the steps and meeting the two teens half way. "She's been screaming da-da the last ten minutes. I tried to calm her, but she wants you."
Before the distance between father and mother is completely closed, Maureen is already squirming from her grandmother's hands and jumping into her father's. Immediately the tiny arms wrap round Elliot's neck and the cry stops.
"Dada." Maureen coos, nuzzling into the crook between Elliot's jaw and shoulder. She sticks a thumb in he mouth and fists his t-shirt.
Witnessing that moment does two things to Olivia; the first is her heart swells. Her brown eyes watch with appreciation as Elliot rubs large circles on his daughter's back and whispers promises of 'dada' always being by her side. The moment is so beautiful that the second feeling it stirs within Olivia is that of intrusion. She feels like an outsider, interrupting something special between three generations of a family, and slips a few paces back. A hint of jealousy causes a pang to strike her side and she wonders if her own mother held her like that, stroking her hair and promising her the world.
"'Ts okay, Mo-Mo, daddy is right here." Elliot strong voice coos warmly, his Brooklyn accent seeping through.
"Should've known, Poppy just needs a nap, but – just like a true Stabler girl, she's gotta have daddy to sleep." Bernie comments with a shake of the head, and then her eyes set in on Olivia.
"Hello, Olivia…" the older woman starts, a smile on her face and Olivia's brown eyes meet Bernie's steel blues.
"Hi, Mrs. Stabler."
"Bernie dear. Call me Bernie. How's your mom doing?"
"She's fine." Olivia lies, knowing full well that her mother isn't doing well. She's hung-over and passed out, no doubt by this time in her own vomit.
"You think she'd mind if I popped on by? I've dug up some of my old writings and I'd like to see if she could take a look. You know, get some feedback…"
"No – I mean yeah. She'd mind. She's working on some of her lesson plans today, which is why I'm down here. She hates to be interrupted when she's on a roll; stayed up all night because she was on to something. So I wouldn't wake her – I mean interrupt her. ." Olivia back pedals, her words coming out in spurts as she tries to think of any and every excuse as to why Bernie visiting her mother would be wrong on all accords. Not only was Serena more than likely still drunk, but also Olivia was certain that her mother wouldn't approve of her current whereabouts.
Elliot turns then, and his blue eyes search Olivia's face as she averts her gaze, her nerves getting the best of her as she silently hopes her answer will suffice.
"Oh that's okay then, hon, I'll catch up with her later." Bernie shrugs and then heads back into the house.
The sun bounces off of the waves, glistening brightly as Elliot stares at Olivia. His gaze is intense, and critical, and Olivia knows he's studying her. She turns on her heels, the sand hot underneath her bare feet and heads back towards the beach.
She doesn't have to be a psychic to know that he's following her; she can feel his presence.
"You know, Liv, you can tell me anything," his voice sounds into her ear and she can hear Maureen's soft snores.
"I know." she agrees and turns to smile at him.
/
Olivia's covered in muddy sand from head to toe as she runs down the beach – sprain ankle long forgotten. Behind her Maureen giggles, giving chase as fast as her little chunky legs will carry her. Fully re-energized from an hour and a half nap, the toddler is on the move, and she runs full force into Olivia's open arms. Long locks whipping in the wind, the young brunette laughs and swings the tiny blonde in a circle.
"Caught me!" she shouts, and Maureen giggles.
It'd taken just one bop on the nose for the youngest of the Stabler clan to warm up to Olivia, and from that moment on they'd be inseparable.
Evening is approaching, however, and Olivia knows that it's almost that time to head home. Serena will be awake, and in need of help to recover from her bender soon.
Somewhere along the beach the sounds of Jump by Van Halen blare.
"So that's it, huh?" Elliot remarks as he moseys down to where the two stand. "My girlfriend and my daughter abandon me to hang with each other, then?" he holds out his arms for Maureen, but the young girl buries her head into Olivia's chest, giggling.
The word girlfriend causes Olivia's heart to beat faster and she's dizzy with excitement; she's Elliot's girlfriend.
"Is that so, Mo?" he asks, a feigned look of hurt and shock on his face.
The young girl turns her head back to her father; blonde curls blowing in the wind and sticks her tongue out. Olivia laughs at the gesture, and resituates Maureen's weight to get a better grip on the toddler.
"And I take it you learned that from your aunt Lizzie?" Elliot rolls his eyes and cocks an eyebrow. "Good thing she's off with her friends, or I'd take her by her tongue," he starts, reaching out and grabbing Maureen's tongue, "and cut it off."
"Calm down there, crazy." Olivia comments, batting his hand away. "You're dada is a nut-nut huh?"
The words elicit a string of giggles from Maureen and she squirms from Olivia's arms and reaches for Elliot, promptly plopping herself into her father's awaiting arms.
"Eat-eat, dada. Eat." Maureen demands and she's yanking on his cheeks, her tiny hands massaging his face as she speaks.
"Why don't you go feed her, El? I've gotta get home anyways." Olivia suggests, her eyes glancing towards the beach house where she knows her mother is.
"Why don't you eat with us? I make a mean can chili?"
"It's okay, besides, it's my turn to cook." She lies easily.
Elliot bounces Maureen over to one hip and his blue eyes bore into Olivia's brown. The intensity in which he studies her expression scares Olivia and in that moment she knows that Elliot can tell she's lying. Her breath hitches and she waits, one – two – three seconds for him to call her on it, but instead he nods.
"Okay," he simply states, and the tension in Olivia dissipates. "Tomorrow night, me and you – we'll head up to Beach Haven, to see…" he pulls a face, "Purple Rain. It'll be our first real date; baby free."
Maureen grins as if on Q.
"I'd like that." Olivia whispers, smiling at both Elliot and his daughter.
"Good, see you round 6; we'll do dinner first."
And her heart flutters for the nine-thousandth time that day.
"Deal. Bye, Mo." she steps forward and pinches the cherub cheek baby.
"B-" the first syllable doesn't even have the chance to leave her lips when Elliot's mouth is on hers. He gently moves his lips along hers, and they stay like that for a few moments until Olivia reluctantly pulls away. "Bye," is all she says as she almost trips on air trying to turn around, and heading for home.
/
The house is dark and the stench of vomit hangs in air as Olivia does her best to quietly open her mother's bedroom door. She finds Serena, damp towel over her head, huddled in a ball at the edge of the bed.
"Olivia, is that you?" a voice asks, and Olivia sighs; her night is going to be a long one.
"Yeah, mom?" She answers.
"Bring me two aspirin and some water. I just need to go back to sleep, please."
"Okay."
As she sets about, readying the aspirin, pouring the water, and finding a change of clothes so that she could clean up her mother's mess, Olivia lets her mind drift to tomorrow night.