A/N: It is only when we find the person our soul is bound to that we begin to move - Anonymous
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the show or the characters, but, oh, how I wish I did.
March 26th, 9:31 PM
"It's quiet," Olivia swirled her wine glass around slowly as her head dropped back against the sofa. "You'd never know four teenagers live here."
"Four teenagers with demanding schedules." Elliot made his way over to the couch. "Between academics and athletics, they're almost as exhausted as we are by the end of the day," he chuckled as he dropped into the seat beside her. "Almost." He picked up a small remote control off of the coffee table, aimed it at the fireplace, and hit three buttons, igniting it. "We got to spend some time with them, at least. Usually doesn't happen until the weekend." He leaned an arm over, grabbed her wine glass, and pulled it out of her hand. With a smirk, he brought it to his lips and sipped, then moaned softly as he dropped it to the table. "Dinner was amazing."
Closing her eyes, she smiled and whispered a thank you, thinking of the whipped-together meal she'd made for what was now, if anyone asked, her family. Watching the kids do their homework while she cooked and danced around the kitchen with Elliot was something she'd fantasized about, finding the reality to be so much better than she imagined. She said, "I'm surprised we got home at a reasonable enough hour to even have dinner together," then nuzzled closer to him as he wrapped an arm around her. "You okay?" She felt his head move against hers, his lips slid down the side of her neck, and she moaned as he bit down hard then suckled softly. "Jesus," she breathed, both of her hands shooting to the back of his head.
When she scratched at his scalp, he sucked harder, his hands finding their way beneath her shirt. "Love you," he garbled, pulling her closer to him. Satisfied with the mark he left, he pulled away from her with a soft pop, and blew lightly on the purpling shape. "Mine," he said with a low growl. "You're fucking mine."
"Damn right," she returned. "Now, what are you trying to avoid?" She scrolled her nails down the back of his neck and scooted forward onto his lap. The less space between their bodies, the happier she was. When he curled himself even tighter around her and kicked his bare feet up onto the coffee table, she laughed. They'd always been perfectly in sync, always wanted the same things, had the same goals, and it became ever more clear that their compatibility carried over into every aspect of their lives. "Talk to me," she whispered, kissing him again.
With a soft exhale, he coaxed her head down to his chest and started running his fingers through her hair. "When I called Melanie Crenshaw's parents, um...Mark Crenshaw, her father...he's a Marine. Active duty. He's deploying tomorrow morning and he…" his eyes dropped to her neck, and slowly he toyed with her hair while his other hand slipped under the metal links of her necklace. "He thanked me for telling him who took away his little girl, because now he didn't have to worry about dying without knowing," his voice trembled, his fingers pulled on the chain and gripped the gold pendant. "It just made me think…" he coughed once.
"About?" she prodded, the fingers of her right hand folded over his wrist, and she watched him roll his thumb over the embossed emblem on the pendant.
Dropping his head to rest against hers, he spoke. "When I left, uh...ya know, Desert Storm, I had to take leave from the force. My old CO made me promise to come back in one piece or he'd make sure whatever was left of me was locked in cold storage for eternity," he laughed but the way his eyes reddened betrayed his true emotion. He realized that, although she knew everything about him, there were still things he'd never said, things he had to let her in on before he snapped. "The whole time I was gone, I wondered what was happening back home, if I was missing important moments of my kids' lives. If they were hurt, or worse, and I remember thinking that I'd never forgive myself if something happened...and I wasn't there."
"El," she kissed him softly and rubbed her hands down his chest, back up, soothing and calming him.
He let the medallion drop and slipped both of his hands back into her soft hair. "I didn't know what I was coming home to, what was waiting for me," he grinned then. "I know exactly what was running through that man's head. And it sucks." He pressed his lips to hers again, gave a quick sniffle, and then said, "Leaving back then, killed me. But if I ever had to leave, now?" Frowning, he shook his head. "No way in hell. I wouldn't survive being away from you."
Rubbing her nose against his, she whispered, "You don't have to worry about that." She kissed his chin. "That's what's got you so worked up?"
Nodding, he licked his lips, then let out another breath. "That's what...what I've been thinking about." He swallowed hard and shifted in his seat. He leaned forward and grabbed the glass of wine, took a long sip, then held it to her lips. As she drank, he said, "I swear to God, I have no intention of leaving you, for any reason. I'm not leaving you or the kids, ever."
The serious turn the night had suddenly taken made her stomach drop, her heart pound. "I'm not going anywhere, either." Smiling softly at him, she took the glass from him and put it back on the coffee table as she steadied herself. "No more solo undercover gigs or surprise transfers, then." Turning around, she looped her arms around his neck. "For either of us. Deal?" One of her brows arced and she gave him a sly grin.
As he nodded, he combed his fingers through her hair again. "I was thinking about something else, too," he whispered. "Oliver, for a middle name. Or Benson." He dropped a kiss to her forehead when she tilted her eyes up to look at him. Grinning, he said, "If it's a girl, Ellie...or Margaret," he winked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Raising both brows at his sudden and stunning change of topic, she said, "Because unless you're so fertile that by sharing a wine glass with me you could knock me up, I'm not pregnant!" She laughed and asked him, "Why are you even talking about…"
"We should pick names," he interrupted, his hands still sailing through her short waves. As he stroked, he pulled lightly, curling her hair around his fingers, and he lowered his voice, "So we know exactly who we'll be praying for, baby." He looked into her eyes and bit his lip, knowing what risks would be immediately taken when he spoke. "The twins are gonna be sixteen, I'm so out of practice that this is gonna be like my first child all over again, but I am more ready to do this than I think you realize." He swiped his lips across her forehead and then her chin. "No harm in getting a head start, right? I mean... I know you've been waiting, and you want this more than anything. So do I. We should...start trying."
"Now?" Her voice was barely above a breath, and when she watched him nod, the conversations they'd had over the last decade echoed in her mind. Times he'd tried to convince her to think about having kids, moments where it seemed like he was offering to be a part of the process, and one specific moment where he'd looked into her eyes and promised to support her in any way he possibly could because he believed with his whole heart that she would be an amazing mother. Knowing how fully he'd meant it all, realizing he'd always wanted to be the man who'd made it happen, filled her with more love and contentment than she thought possible. She didn't realize tears were running down her cheeks until he wiped them away with his kisses.
"Now," he whispered back to her, lifting his gaze. Staring into her brown eyes, he took a breath. "You know why, don't you? What it would mean if...if we made tonight the first time we…" his shaky voice cut out as it caught on an emotion. "It's not exactly to the day, but it was two years ago…" he swallowed hard, dragged his hand toward the front of her shirt, trailed his fingers across the collar of it, and then slipped them under her straps. "I almost lost you."
Closing her eyes, she felt his fingertips trace the long, thin scar on her neck, the one that changed everything and made her realize how much she loved him, how deeply he loved her. "Gitano," she breathed. "El, you don't have to…"
"I wasn't confused, I knew exactly what I was doing," he interrupted. "I can admit that, now. I loved you, more than I fucking realized, and when you went down…" he took a deep breath. "Nothing else mattered. No one else fucking…" he choked again, shaking his head, and he said, "I'm never gonna let anyone get that close again, and I am gonna do everything in my power to make sure you never wanna leave me." He smiled and let out a bitter chuckle. "To make sure you can't, even if you did want to."
"I'll never want to," she told him, searching his eyes. They'd come so close to losing each other too many times, she silently made a list as her fingers crept underneath his black tank. "I promise." Feeling his muscles tense under his touch, she tilted her head. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"
"I don't want to rush you, or scare you, but I feel like..." he exhaled. "This is exactly where we're supposed to be, ya know?" He kissed her lips once. "And we're gonna be incredible, together." His eyes dropped to the small, gold pendant. "Forever, Liv. You know that, right?"
"Yeah," her voice broke softly. "I do." As she took a breath, she felt his chest move under her touch. She bent her head forward as she pulled the cotton of his shirt further up, and pressed her lips to a small, round mark on his shoulder. "I wasn't there," she expelled sadly, unconsciously tugging the shirt off of his body completely.
"Thank God," Elliot huffed, tossing his tank away from him. He cupped her face and said, "He would've shot you, too." For a long moment, they simply held each other's gaze, until finally, he said, "I love you," and then he kissed her roughly, deeply. With a grunt, he pushed himself up and gripped her tightly, fumbling blindly for the fireplace control. Narrowly missing the wine glass, he managed to turn off the flame and get himself to his feet with her legs wrapped around his waist. Still kissing her, he rolled himself around the side of the sofa, then stumbled toward their bedroom without breaking away from her at all.
She felt the hard yanks as he dropped her to her feet, one on her pants and one on her hair, and the moan she let out was muffled by his kiss. Kicking the flannel away, she gripped his bare arms, her heart thumping rapidly against her chest. "Elliot," she whispered, and then she gasped because his hands cupped her breasts beneath her tee-shirt. Moaning his name again, she followed his lead and fell backward, the mattress catching her fall, and she wound herself around him.
His lips found every scar, kissed the shape of each mark on her skin, and when he pulled her shirt off and tossed it over his shoulder, he closed his eyes. Every lewd thought he'd ever had about her flipped through his mind, and he bowed his head in a mix of shame and excitement. "So long," he mumbled, kissing his way down her stomach, paying attention to every curve, scar, freckle. Memorizing her, he let himself bask in the moment, because he'd wondered what she'd look like, feel like, taste like, for years, and now he knew. It was a privilege he never planned to give up, and one he was certain no one else would ever have. His hands settled on her hips as he shimmied himself out of his sweatpants, and he looked into her eyes. "I love you."
One hand crept up his back and hooked around his neck, and the trembling that started low in her belly crescendoed to a full shiver when he settled himself between her legs. Staving off any nervous reaction, she focused on the way he felt against her, thankful and honored that it was finally him. She blinked once, hoping her tears would dry before they fell, and she whispered back to him. "I love you."
There was silence, stillness. Holding their breath and each other, they gave this moment the chance to land and echo. He bent his head, kissed her slowly, and then grazed her nose with his. "Liv," he breathed, and when their eyes locked, he tightened his muscles and moved back slightly. He stared into her eyes and said a silent prayer; a thank you, an apology, a promise.
Her nails dug into the dips between the muscles of his back and she inhaled sharply as he moved forward slightly. Their bodies quivered and vibrated against each other, and their eyes remained unblinking. Before he thrust, a moment before his tip broached her, two blaring ringtones intruded on what was supposed to be the most immaculately perfect moment in their intertwined lives.
"No," he breathed, closing his eyes in pure defeat as his head dropped to press against hers. "Not now," he sniffled. "God damn it, not fucking now."
Her hands trailed from his back to his chin, and she cupped his face as she kissed him deeply, her own tears welling up and threatening to burst free. Inhaling deeply, she moved with him, untangling her naked body from his. She watched him tug on his sweatpants and she sighed, grabbing the robe he tossed to her before he ran out into the living room to answer his phone.
For a moment, she stayed on the edge of the mattress, wistfully hoping that it was a wrong number or an offer for an extended warranty on a car they didn't have. Hopes were dashed when he came back into the bedroom with her phone already answered and outstretched. Closing her eyes, she brought the phone to her ear with a heavily sighed, "Benson."
Together, they spoke to their respective callers, then hung up and set off into a silent and solemn routine. They pulled clothes off of hangers and took turns dressing each other. He hooked her bra for her, she zipped the fly of his slacks, he slipped her pants up her legs, she buttoned his shirt for him, he tugged her blue tee over her head, she knotted his tie. Just before they grabbed for socks and shoes, she grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled him closer to her. "When this is over," she whispered, and she kissed him with a languidness that meant she had no desire to ever do anything else. As she pulled back, she licked her lips and kept her eyes closed as she said, "It was already the most incredible…"
His soft kiss stopped her words, and he moaned an agreement into her mouth and palmed her ass. Squeezing, he chuckled. "Coffee?" He nipped at her lower lip. "And donuts." He made no attempt to move, keeping his hands on her bottom and he pulled her closer as he started swaying with her. "We got time," he said softly, diving in for another slow kiss. Dancing her out of the room, he felt her body relax in his arms, and when they made it to the apartment's door, he let her go begrudgingly. "Be right back," he garbled, then moved toward his daughters' room, needing to tell Maureen they were leaving. When he stepped back out into the living room, he had a smug smile on his face. "Son of a bitch, Cragen was right."
"About?" she chirped, shoving her socked feet into her heeled boots.
He pushed into his black shoes and let out a soft laugh. "I'm a lot fucking calmer," he scratched the side of his face and smirked. "But I swear, the next time he tells me to watch my language…"
"Again?" she chuckled, pulling the door open. "What did you say to him?" Her eyes followed Elliot's hands as he closed and locked their door.
Talking hold of her left hand with his right, he said, "Told him someone had better fucking be dead because he was interrupting the best fucking night we've ever had." He laughed at the look on her face and then stopped them in the middle of the hallway, in front of the elevator. "I didn't give him details." He kissed her once. "He said, matter of fact, someone is dead, and then told me to stop talking like Al Pacino."
Still laughing, she shook her head and walked with him toward the elevator. "Fin, uh, told me they know who sent that bomb to Narcotics." She waited until the metal doors opened, and once they were inside of the lift, she cleared her throat. "You were right, it had nothing to do with you. Or me."
He leaned over and kissed her temple. "I told you it didn't," he whispered. "I know how easy it is for you to panic, and how loud those thoughts can be," he spoke softly, and he smiled as he kissed her again. "I'm always gonna be right next to you, telling them to shut the fuck up."
As they stepped off of the elevator and headed into a night of unknowns, she rolled her shoulders back and twisted her neck from side to side, evicting the knots of tension that had settled there for far too long. "I know you are," she said to him, and for the first time in weeks, her lips curled into a determined and firm smirk.
A/N: A new case brings in some old faces, and a phone call with Kathy spurs new plans into motion. Next