A/N: Kinetic, the energy expended when parts move in any direction at any speed, as long as the motion is continuous.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the show or the characters, but, oh, how I wish I did.
March 20th, 3:47 AM
Watching him was like watching a volcano drown in the ocean. Steam radiated from him as he hunched over and stared out of the window, the angry heat being quenched by the calm aura of Olivia's apartment. The way he moved, like a sloth and a dragon at the same time, his muscles tightened and released as he paced back and forth slowly, his head never once rotating away from the glass overlooking the park.
She hadn't spoken to him since they got back to her place; the conversation had run dry somewhere between him asking if she would be able to handle the trial of her friend's killer and her cracking a joke about a juggling monkey. His sudden silence signaled his shift in mood, his sense of loss.
She'd made him coffee; it remained untouched, cold on the counter. She'd poured him a glass of whiskey; it went unbothered, still in the spot she'd left it, nestled in a pool of condensation. She'd asked if he was hungry; he'd grunted noncommittally. Then, she'd given up trying and just sat with him, weighty silence hovering around them, until he'd gotten up and started skulking around the room and watching the world beyond the apartment roll by through the window. It's where he'd been for hours, where he still was.
Her yawn was louder than she'd anticipated, and her eyes widened when he swiveled around and looked at her. Preparing for the worst, she held her breath.
"Go to bed," he said, and then he sighed. "Shit, I'm sorry, I completely lost track of…" he ran both of his hands down his face and let out a loud, gruff, noise. "I'm not wallowing, I don't regret anything, I promise you that, I just…"
"You spent twenty years with her," Olivia broke in, "Your entire adult life and a good chunk of your childhood are wrapped up in her, she's the only woman you've ever…"
"No, that's you, believe it or not," he interjected with a scoff.
"Jesus," she rolled her eyes, but she smiled at his admission. Something about knowing the way he loved her was so much different than the way he loved Kathy gave her chills. "I meant that she's the only woman you've ever been in a serious relationship with, your only…" she paused. "Lover," she cringed slightly as the word left her mouth, then pressed her lips together, suddenly remembering a conversation she'd had with him years ago, one that told her lover may have been the wrong word entirely. She shook it off and looked at him again. "Everything you've ever known just changed, you're allowed to be…"
"I'm not upset," he cried, throwing his head back. "I'm actually trying to figure out why I'm not fucking upset! And yeah, Kathy was the only woman I've actually slept with, but…" He moved fast and dropped into the seat on the couch beside her. He reached for her hand, hooked his fingers between hers, and in a low, throaty whisper, he said, "That doesn't mean I am not ready to love you like I've never loved anyone else. Kathy was not an adventurous lover, Liv. There's a lot that I've thought about, ya know...a lot, and I want to do it all...with you." He looked at her. "That's why I'm out here acting like a brooding son of a bitch, it's because I just walked away from twenty-fucking-years, and the only thing I can think about is what it's gonna feel like the next time I kiss you."
The nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach intensified, like hundreds of mosquitoes biting her from the inside and trying to fly outward at the same time. As much as she desperately needed to believe him, part of her struggled with it. A small voice in the back of her mind whisper-screamed that he was grieving, guilt-ridden, afraid to be alone. Her eyes closed as she pushed back, her hands firm against his chest as she moved him away. "Probably not a good idea to find out tonight, you just…"
"You have seven freckles on your right arm," he said fast, not blinking until she looked at him again. When he saw her head turn, he spoke again. "There's a scar on your left leg, sort of shaped like a squashed octagon. I never asked where you got it, but I can guess, and I don't particularly like any of the reasons." He blinked when she tilted her head. "You get hives when you get too close to anyone wearing Aqua Velva cologne; when you're getting a migraine you squint a lot and crack your knuckles; your favorite thing in the world is the shrimp stuffed avocado at Serendipity, but you only get it once a year because you can't justify paying twenty-five dollars for an avocado, no matter what it's fucking stuffed with; the look on your face when you know someone's lying is the same look you had on your face the day you met Kathy, that's how I figured out you never really trusted her."
She licked her lips once and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Okay, so you know me, we've been partners for…"
He silenced her, pressing one finger to her lips to still them, and he grinned as he leaned closer to her. "I was married to Kathy for twenty years, and I couldn't tell you if she had a birthmark on her ass or not, let alone how many freckles she had on the most random parts of her body." He moved closer. "I don't remember how she got any of the scars she probably has, or where they are, or what they look like. I know she likes the fettuccine alfredo from some place in the Village but I don't remember the name of it and I don't know how much it costs. The only expression of hers that I know the exact meaning of is when she's disappointed in me, because it's the one I've seen the most often." He narrowed his eyes only a bit, and let his head loll to his left. "Do you understand?"
Again, that small voice cried out for her to listen to it, to walk away, to shield herself from the hurt, but she mentally punched the voice in the face and nodded at him. "I get it," she said quietly, and she wasn't just saying it. He'd been proving a point, that the last twenty years of his life were spent with someone comfortable, whom he did love, but with her it was more than that. It was uncomfortable and chaotic, intense and necessary. She knew now that he took the time to memorize her in ways she never thought possible because she'd done the same thing to him. If her brain could have functioned normally, she would have told him how she'd known that he'd had nine tattoos, four that were only visible when he was naked; how he'd chewed on the inside of his cheek when he was thinking through a case; that when he was hungry he'd hum the Bumblebee Tuna song to himself, and he'd loved that fucking shrimp stuffed avocado, too, but would never admit it to anyone. Yeah. "I get it."
He could feel his lungs burn, but still he held his breath as he moved one hand to the back of her neck. It wouldn't be as fiery as their first, but he could feel the boil beneath his bones that told him it would be just as emotional. He inched closer, brushed his nose against hers, and just as he felt her lips against his, their phones rang, loudly, angrily. He tightened his grip. "Let it ring," he whispered, and then he kissed her.
There was still the sweet tang of bourbon on her tongue, though it mixed with her mint toothpaste and spicy exhaustion, and he let it linger. The phone rang louder, it seemed, as though whomever was calling knew what was happening and was deliberately trying to stop it. He ran the tip of his tongue across the planes of her teeth, then over her lips, and he waited with his head pressed to hers until he caught his breath. He kissed her forehead before he backed away from her, his left hand still wrapped tightly in hers as he used the other to answer the call that cut their moment short. "Stabler," he huffed, letting his thumb graze the curves of her fingers. He watched her reach for her own phone at the same moment, thinking she looked deliriously happy. "What?" he looked down at his wrist, checking the time, "When the fuck did that fucking...watch my mouth? Yeah, sure, Dad," he rolled his eyes, then moved closer to Olivia again. He waited until a quiet moment in her conversation, kissed her quickly and silently, and then pulled her to her feet. "No, we'll be right there. Fifteen, uh, we need coffee and…" he chuckled. "Yeah, Cap, I'll bring you a donut."
She stifled a laugh as she walked with him toward the bedroom, blinking away the sheer exhaustion in her eyes. "Okay," she said as she hung up her phone, "Tell me you got the same call I did." She furrowed her brow, confused, as she watched him pick her clothes out of the closet for her.
"Oh, yeah. Munch threaten to wash your mouth out with soap, too?" he chuckled and tossed a pair of khaki colored slacks and a dark purple shirt at her. "We got a two-fer." He pushed aside hangers and found more of his clothes. He laughed almost proudly, then pulled a pair of grey pants off of a hanger. He nonchalantly and unabashedly dropped trau and changed, knowing Olivia was doing the same. Shame did not exist between them. "You gonna be okay?"
"Extra large coffee," she said through a yawn. "And yeah, I'm gonna need a fucking donut." She buttoned the last button on her shirt and then looked at him. The way he expertly knotted his tie without needing a mirror impressed her; the way he was looking at her made her weak. She cleared her throat as she tore her eyes away from his, then she turned to find a pair of socks in her drawer. The room seemed brighter, somehow. The cherry wood dresser glistened in the fading moonlight as she shut the drawer with her hip. She sat on the corner of her mattress, the cushion feeling softer beneath her. As she pulled on the thin black cotton socks, she smiled.
"Oh," he called, "I like that look." He dropped down in front of her and helped her on with her boots, zipping them for her, and he said, "I always thought these made your legs look so fucking incredible," he popped his head up. "It's not the boots. You have an amazing pair of legs." He ran his hands up her calves, her thighs, and set them on her hips. "Kiss me?"
Her heart skipped a beat, but she was propelled forward by a supernatural force. She kissed him quickly, and then said, "How do we, uh...do this?"
"Same way we've been doing it for the last ten years or so," he winked at her and pulled her up. "Only this time, uh, we don't have to try so hard to hide it from each other." He gave her a smoky glare. "Just from, ya know, everyone else." He walked with her through the bedroom door, down her rather bare hall, into the living room again. He grabbed his gun, badge, and phone, and then he yawned as he headed for the door. He unhooked his coat and hers from the rack, and as he yawned again, he said, "Are you gonna be okay?"
"You asked me that already," she mumbled, clipping her badge to her belt and then tossing her keys around her finger by the ring. She followed him out of her apartment and locked her door behind them.
He helped her put her jacket on, and he said, "Yeah, and you didn't really answer me." He dropped both hands to her shoulders. "We're on the way to the tombs, because the piece of shit we just put in the cage was sodomized and killed in lockup. I need to know if I'm walking in with my objective, level headed partner, or my apathetic and vengeful girl…" he stopped. Too soon to think it, too soon to feel it. "Um, partner."
"I'm glad the bastard's dead, El, I'm not gonna deny that," she ignored the fact that he almost called her something she definitely wasn't. A handful of kisses does not a girlfriend make. "But I'm gonna do my job."
"I know that," he said, and he brought his left hand up to cup her face. He noticed the shift in her expression, then realization in her eyes, that she hadn't felt the slight shock of cold. That she could sense the absence of his ring. He brushed the pad of his thumb along the curves of her face. "That is one thing I will never doubt. But the question stands."
She rolled her eyes and then gave him a shove towards the elevator. When they started walking she sighed. "I can be objective, but don't think I'm not gonna thank the guy who killed him when we find him."
"It's four-forty-five in the morning," he said, scratching at the grown-out stubble on his chin. He hit the call button and looked at her. "We can make it to The Bitter Bean just in time to get the last couple cups from the first brew."
Her eyes widened slightly and she gave him an impressed turned down grin. "Springing for the good stuff?"
"We are running on fumes," he chuckled, guiding her to the elevator. "We need high-octane today, you know it. "And, uh," the doors slid shut and he hooked an arm around her waist, "They have those amazing stuffed donuts." He paused as she gave him a cocked brow. "Yeah, I get a kick out of eating the sprinkles that fall on you," he leaned closer, "But I am going to fucking love licking dripping chocolate off your lips."
She gasped silently but gave into his short kiss, but then immediately retreated behind her wall of defense. She bit her lip and as soon as the ding hit her ears she turned and walked through the slipping doors. "You gonna get Cragen a stuffed donut, too? Earn yourself a raise?"
He laughed and cringed. "Absolutely not, he gets a plain donut. With a hole." he sighed as he calmed. "Hey, hey," he reached out for her, gripping the hem of her jacket and tugging her back to him just as they stepped out of her building. He held her still for a moment and then quietly asked, "How are you holding up? I know I've been dealing with a lot of shit, but that doesn't mean I'm not worrying about you." He snuck one hand low on her waist, skirting the line on her body just before the curve of her ass. "Tucker's supposed to tell us if you have to give another statement...if you have to testify...I swear, I won't let you…"
"If I have to, then I have to," her voice faltered. She let out a soft breath and shrugged once. "Telling you…," she felt a lump form low in her throat. "You needed to be the first one to hear it all, and you were. It happened, El, okay? I can't pretend it didn't, I can't forget it, not talking about it isn't going to change that. Ignoring it won't make it go away."
His heart cracked slightly as he watched the skin around her nose turn red and her eyes glisten and shimmer. "If he wasn't already dead," he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her close, shaking his head, the promised threat remaining unfinished. "I'll be right there with you, no matter what Tucker says or what that fucking dickbag lawyer makes you do." He closed his eyes. "I'm not letting you down again."
"You didn't…" she pushed him gently away. Her eyes slid up to meet his and her heels scuffed along the sidewalk as she spoke. "You have never let me down. Ever. In fact, you are the only person in my life who hasn't. What happened was not your fault."
He nodded, licked his lips, and turned away from her. There was another declaration hanging on his lips, one that if voiced would make him feel like a complete asshole, but also send his entire spirit soaring. He choked it back as he led Olivia to the car and hoped they could make it through the day without coming completely unraveled.
Hope. What a powerful thing.
A/N: Next? Talking to Tucker, Elliot's lawyer, and some kids show up unannounced.