A/N: One theory is that you are born like this but I don't believe it. You came out screaming and alive and look at you now. Look at how you've learned to hide your teeth. I don't blame you for taking the iron pipe from their hands and branding yourself with it. For making a flag out of your body bag. - Olivia Gatwood
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.
"Come on, guys, move!" Olivia whined as she made a disgustedly annoyed face, climbing over a tangled mass of wrestling teenagers in the hallway. She rolled her eyes as she hurdled over them, finding it hard to tell where one jerk ended and another began. She made it to the door of her dorm room and opened it with a grunt.
She slammed it shut behind her, then tossed her messenger bag onto one of the two single beds in the room. She plopped down onto the firm mattress and flung herself backward, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Life at Northwood academy had been so much different than she'd imagined. When Bernie told her she'd be able to share a room with Elliot, she hadn't thought it would be a double room in the boys' dorms. Thinking about it, though, it made sense. If they'd been rooming in the girls' building, a hundred crazy girls would be fawning all over Elliot. Most of the guys in their building ignored her unless they were telling her to smile.
That's something she heard several times a day, in several different ways. "A pretty girl like you should smile more." "What's got you so down, pretty girl?" "You're too beautiful to be such a bitch, lighten up." "I could make you smile, girl." The rest of them assumed she was cold, had a chip on her shoulder, and didn't bother saying much of anything to her. She couldn't help her face. It was stuck in a permanent scowl unless she was with Elliot, or unless she had a reason to smile. When she did, it usually had something to do with Elliot anyway.
The students at Northwood were fell into three separate breeds. Some were there solely for the academic value and the accolades attending would bring, keeping to themselves unless they had to work in pairs or groups. Those were the kids who came from meager-to-modest backgrounds, working their asses off for a better life. They were the "affirmative action" kids, given full-rides to sustain the academy's "economic diversity" so they could collect a million-dollar grant. Others were there because they longed for independence, middle-class kids with too many siblings and not enough privacy, who looked at boarding school the way Christians look at Heaven. They were smart enough to get by with merit scholarships and student loans, which meant more interest payments to the school. The rest of them were walking trust-funds, dropped into Northwood because Mommy and Daddy were too busy on their yachts to be bothered raising teenagers. They were all blessed with good looks, expensive cars, the latest gadgets, and drug and alcohol addictions. They walked around campus like they owned the place, because thanks to so many hefty donations and pay-offs, some of them practically did. Most of them had to buy their way in, and the ones that didn't were given athletic scholarships or "legacy admission," which meant they were allowed to attend to Northwood free-of-charge because six generations before them had.
Olivia didn't know where she fit in, and her heart sank every time she thought about where Elliot would have landed under different circumstances. She cringed and pushed the thought from her mind, her head lolled to the side once counting ceiling tiles lost its novelty, and she let out a heavy breath when her eyes landed on the other bed in the room. Because of its spot under the large window, it was the one they used, slept in, together. Her pillow smelled like him, and most nights, he was her pillow.
There was that smile.
Her eyes closed as she thought about how her life had changed in the last few weeks. A new life in a new place, dealing with the prestige that came with matriculating at Northwood, the freedom that came with nary a single soul knowing who she was or her tragic story. The only constant was Elliot, and he was the only constant that mattered. Their relationship grew, changed somehow, in their new environment. She had stopped looking over her shoulder, and she was more eager to speak up in class because she was finally around people who wouldn't tease her for knowing all the answers. He was more protective of her, defensive of them both, but calmer on the whole.
Her mind drifted away to Elliot completely, then. His eyes, his piercing cerulean blue eyes, the way she could get lost in them for hours, how she could see his thoughts, feelings, wildest dreams in his eyes. The truth in his eyes was her solace, the only place she ever found proof that someone loved her was in his eyes. He told her all the time, it was the first thing she heard when she woke up and the last thing he said to her before they fell asleep, but words are much more powerful when they're joined by physical, tangible evidence.
A soft moan escaped her, and she could practically feel his hands on her body, his lips on her skin. She moaned again, whimpered, thought maybe she had fallen asleep and was dreaming, but when she felt hands slip up the front of her uniform sweater, her eyes popped open. "Oh, hello," she chuckled, jerking and twitching at the way his touch tickled her. "Okay, okay, quit it!"
"Hmm, no," he smirked and shook his head, and then worked his way on top of her. One hand on either side of her, he peered down into her deep brown eyes. "How was your day?" he whispered as he kissed her softly.
"Better now," she said back to him, her arms looping around his neck. Their kiss deepened, identical moans left their mouths, and one of his hands made the journey around to her back. He was just about to unhook her bra when their door swung open and slammed into the sidewall.
"What up, hookers?" the loudmouthed young man who'd barged in chortled.
Elliot dropped his head to Olivia's chest. "What the fuck do you want, Langan?"
"Well," Trevor Langan threw himself into the chair by Elliot's desk. "I was gonna ask if you two wanted to walk into town, but, uh, I could just stay and watch this, it's fine by me." He put his hands behind his head, ran his fingers through his dark, shaggy hair, and leaned back with a grin. "Carry on." He shot Olivia a wink, and then laughed when in return, she shot him her middle finger.
"Some RA," Elliot mumbled, his lips too busy kissing and biting at the buttons on Olivia's cardigan to enunciate.
Trevor Langan was the Hanlin House Resident Advisor, the upperclassman in charge of keeping the boarders in his house in line. He had the room across the hall, and he was supposed to be warning them against things like smoking on campus or having sex, but he was one of the worst kind of Northwoods. He'd light up and host an orgy if he wasn't afraid someone at Harvard would find out about it.
Elliot kissed his way up Olivia's chest and neck as he sat upright, then pulled her up and into his lap. "Into town for what?" he asked, looking at Langan but smoothing his hands up and down Olivia's thighs.
Langan shifted his gaze from the skin beneath Elliot's fingers with a groan. "Lucky son of a bitch, Stabler, you are." He rolled his eyes at Elliot's response and then said, "Carmichael's brother has tickets to see Flamethrower at The Loop. He can't go because his parole officer is on his ass, so he gave the tickets to her. You in?"
"Flamethrower? The rage metal band that almost burnt down the pier last week?" Olivia sunk back into Elliot, but grabbed his hands and held them down, not willing to give Langan any more of a show than he'd already had. "I'll pass."
"We aren't old enough to get into The Loop, either," Elliot added, his fingers curling and digging into the skin of Olivia's legs. He had a need to be in constant contact with her, no matter where, no matter what, and their newly given independence was causing that need to intensify. "Why would you even suggest…"
Langan scoffed and kicked his foot up onto the desk."Man, no one at The Loop checks IDs, besides, we show up in uniform, and not only will they let us in, they'll practically buy our drinks for us," he explained. "You don't know what kind of power you have now, do you?"
"Guess not," Elliot shrugged, glancing down at the black and grey crest emblazoned on his maroon sweater-vest. He zoned in on the football embroidered beneath it, marking him as a varsity player, and he assumed that was one of the symbols of the power Langan was sure he now possessed. "Baby, what do you think? Friday night out on the town with Langan and his monkeys?"
She bent her head back and looked up at him. "You want to go, don't you?"
"We don't have anything better to do," he said with a smile, and then he kissed her. When her arms reached up and her nails scratched along his scalp, he whined. "Maybe we do," he murmured.
She chuckled against his lips and said, "Fine, but no drinking, and the second anything other than the drummer's hair catches on fire, I'm leaving."
"Deal," he laughed, and then he looked over at Trevor. "What time?"
"Show starts at nine, but we were planning on grabbing some grub first." Langan inhaled, dropped his feet to the floor, and leaned over. "Just outta curiosity, uh, if I flung myself into this chair five minutes later, how naked would you have been?"
Elliot gave him a shove and made a face at him. "Man, get outta here, huh? We'll see you at, what, seven?"
"Yeah, we'll all walk over together, dinner at Mac's, cool?" He got a nod from Elliot and an eye roll from Olivia, then made his way out, making sure he closed the door behind him.
As soon as Langan was gone, Elliot's hands moved back to Olivia's sweater. "That was a good question, though," he said, his fingers working her buttons open and the wool apart. "How naked could I get you in five minutes?"
"Not naked enough," she laughed, and she turned around and hiked herself up on her knees. She threw her cardigan over her shoulder, not caring where it landed, and grinned when Elliot laid back on the bed. She crawled over him and settled against him, the mental battle that had been going on for a month started up again. She wanted him, needed him, felt ready to take the next steps with him, but something always stopped her and he never seemed to mind at all. "El," she moaned, feeling his right hand slide up under her skirt.
They'd made some discoveries, in their time alone at Northwood. Explored and experimented as much as mouths and hands would let them, giving each other a series of exponential firsts that would only ever be rivaled by the next, much more heavily weighted one. They had friends, now, who talked openly and casually about sex and all it comes along with, in vivid detail. They kept their intimacies to themselves, though, respecting each other and the electric significance their relationship warranted. Still, it was becoming harder and harder to keep quiet when they had clear bragging rights.
He shifted two of his fingers, pulling aside the white cotton he'd been toying with, and he nipped at her lips as he slipped them into her with ease and relish. "Are you okay?" he asked, he always asked, always needed to be sure.
She nodded as her hips bucked and she kissed him again, a moan landing on his mouth just as her lips did. It wasn't new anymore, not after a month of claiming each other, learning, exploring. Not new, no, but still incredible and monumental for them. Every touch, every whisper, every caress, held an intensity they both cherished and feared. Feared, only because despite their age, they would never be able to live without.
He moaned right back, twisting his fingers, crooking and bending them, needing to hear the way she cried his name when she came, something he fell in love with the first time it happened, something he fell in love with all over again every time since. "Don't fight it," he teased, and he moved slightly to keep her from feeling his own wonton need for her, refusing to allow it to be misconstrued as pressure or obligation. He never asked her for anything, it was never his priority. She was.
"Elliot," she whimpered, and her hands clutched at the fabric of his khakis, his belt, his body. She rolled into him, against his working fingers and open palm, and though she knew what was happening, it took her by surprise every time, as if she couldn't believe he was loving her this way.
She couldn't.
He grinned as he kissed her, his fingers slowing, and he whispered, "Better?"
Breathless, she popped up onto her elbows. "What?" she asked, raising one eyebrow. Her hair fell loosely over one eye as she gazed down at him.
He swooped her hair back and said, "Something was bothering you. Babe, when I came in and saw you laying here, I knew what that look on your face meant. Whatever had you so aggravated...I think I just made you forget about it." He kissed her and sat them up again. "Unless you still want to talk about it, that is."
She smiled at him and shook her head. "It wasn't anything important." She kissed him once more, then slid off of the bed. "We need to stop at the union on the way off campus, I want to mail DJ his comic."
He licked his lips and tugged on his pants as he watched her smooth her hair back into a sleek ponytail. "What's this one about?"
She turned and grinned at him, and she said, "Quantum, Bookworm, and The Incredible DanMan finally defeat the evil Siren once and for all. Or so they think. She may creep back up," her eyes darted down to the light-colored hardwood, her heart stopped for a moment. "What if...what if she does?"
He tilted his head. "Is that what had you so upset? You think your mother…"
"No, no, God, I was just annoyed," she uttered as she plopped back down beside him. "My last class was Honors History, I sat in front of Lake Placid's answer to Kathy Malone. She's just as horrible! Shit. Some of the people in this place...they're so entitled, so stuck up." She dropped her head to his shoulder. "How was practice?"
"These guys play rougher than I'm used to," he told her, and he kissed her forehead, "But it was great. I'm starting in tomorrow's game." He wagged his brows and said with a smirk, "And I'm already planning a little victory celebration."
She chuckled and kissed his lips. "What if you lose?" she challenged.
He took her hand, kissed her slowly, and then said, "I'm still celebrating with you." He ran his fingers along her cheek and said, "Let's go. We'll mail DJ's book and then wait in the quad for the guys."
She followed his lead, rising off the bed and walking toward the door. She smiled at him when he grabbed their coats and as he led them out of their dorm, she exhaled and relaxed. Northwood, for all its problems, was feeling more and more like exactly the place they needed to be.
A/N: A football game, and a celebration to remember...