A/N: This one-shot has been living in my head for far too long. I had to write it. EO is established in this fic because...don't we wish? Sigh.
TW: Mentions of scars, but no graphic Lewis details in this story.
I hope you enjoy, and I very much appreciate reviews!
After being friends for twenty-two years, Olivia and Elliot recently started exploring a romantic relationship. Neither is ready to put a label on it, but they do enjoy kissing. A lot. They've yet to go any further though, and have mutually agreed to take it slow. Both are still finding their footing.
That said, Elliot is incredibly attracted to Olivia. It's likely that he always has been, but she's been off limits. More importantly, he's been off limits. He can be patient, especially when it comes to her. He wants this relationship to work more than he's wanted anything in a long time. Recently though, he's been gaining more confidence and has tried to sneak a hand up her blouse. Each time, she's stopped him. She clutches his wrist, and he backs down.
At first, he assumed it was because they're taking their time. He respects that—respects her. Now, it's been happening more consistently, and he's beginning to wonder if he's doing something wrong.
The two of them are in her apartment, kissing on her couch. It feels so natural, he wonders how they've only been at this for a few weeks. Noah is with a friend, and they savor every moment alone. Their kisses grow more passionate—desperate, almost—with each passing second. Elliot hears a soft moan escape from Olivia's lips and snakes his palm under her shirt. Once again, he's stopped by the tight grip of her hand on his wrist.
"Liv," he sighs, the disappointment evident in his tone.
"Sorry." She mutters, avoiding his gaze.
"Am I doing something wrong?" He asks earnestly because maybe he is. Maybe she doesn't like to be touched there. Or maybe she only likes it certain ways. He'll change, but he first needs to know what the problem is.
"No." She shakes her head, closing her eyes.
"Then why," he hesitates, his eyes darting. "Why won't you let me touch you? We can go slow, if that's what this is, but…is that it? That you want to go slow?"
"No." Her voice is low but her anxiety is heightening.
"What's going on?" He takes both of her hands in his.
"Nothing." Olivia doesn't quite know how to have this conversation with him. She's thought about it, but never in any meaningful way. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine." He rolls his eyes.
"It's not you." She admits. "You've been nothing but patient with me and I—El, I appreciate it."
"Talk to me." He encourages.
"I can't." Olivia runs her fingers through her hair. She's struck by a wave of nausea and is grateful they haven't eaten dinner yet. "I'm not…ready to talk about this."
He eyes her, not sure how to react. He doesn't want to pry, but if they're going to pursue an intimate relationship she'll need to let her guard down eventually.
"Something," she exhales slowly, still avoiding eye contact. "Happened." She emphasizes. "Years ago. Not too long after—" You left, she doesn't say it. "Doesn't matter when." She looks at him, hoping he'll interrupt but he doesn't. "I have talked about it. At length, believe me."
"Alright." He narrows his eyes. "You're scaring me a little."
"The reason I haven't let you touch me? It's not your fault." She wrings her hands. "I have um," she hesitates, focusing on her breath. "Scars?" It comes out as a question, though there's nothing she's more certain of. "On my," she carelessly runs a hand over her chest to indicate the area. "All over."
"Scars." He treads carefully. Elliot is aware of his temper. It's always been an issue, and Liv can handle it better than most. But he wants to stay collected for her; prove that he can be calm and rational. More importantly, he doesn't want to center himself in this conversation.
"Burns, really." She clarifies, chewing her lip. "From cigarettes mostly but," she pauses, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. "Other things, too. Rather not get into it."
Elliot clears his throat, too stunned to speak. "Who." It's the only word he can muster, and the only thing on his mind.
"He's dead." She states, eyes still closed.
"Jesus." Elliot exhales. "Liv," he moves in closer but doesn't touch her. "Open your eyes?" He doesn't know the full extent of her experience, but he's heard enough to recognize that it was deeply traumatic. "Liv?" He repeats, concerned he may lose her to a flashback. "You with me?"
"Yeah." She looks at him, and it breaks her heart to see the look on his face. It's exactly what she's been trying to avoid. It isn't pity—he knows her too well for that—but a combination of guilt, sadness, and anger. She anticipated all three.
It hurts because up until this moment they've been having…fun. It's not a word Olivia uses often, but it's what they've been experiencing just by being together. Elliot still struggles to manage his PTSD. Some days are harder than others, but being with her has helped him tremendously, and she'd hate to undo their progress. "I'm okay." She manages a small smile, hoping it will convince him but knowing it won't.
"I'm so sorry." He hangs his head. "So fucking sorry."
"Don't." She cuts in. "See, this is why I didn't want you to know. I don't want you feeling guilty." She brushes her fingers against his forearm. "I'm okay."
"You can't expect me not to feel anything." It comes out a bit harsher than he intended.
"I know that." She sighs, leaning back into the couch cushions. She lets them envelope her, and closes her eyes again. "I just…I liked things how they were."
"This doesn't change anything." Elliot says with an air of confidence typically reserved for the interrogation room.
Olivia shrugs, "There's a lot you still don't know."
"Doesn't matter." He shifts to face her. "Look at me." He waits until she does. "Whatever it is. None of it changes anything, okay?"
"You say that."
"I mean it." His tone is hushed.
"Okay." She nods, still unsure if she can trust his words. She wants to believe Elliot, but also knows him better than anyone else. She worries that once he learns…everything? He'll feel so guilty he may spiral.
"Come here." He reaches for her, holding her tightly against his chest. They've become comfortable in each other's arms, but this feels different. Maybe it's because this is what she needed years ago. Back when she was trapped, both mentally and physically, in the darkest place she'd ever been. "I love you." Elliot whispers. This too has become comfortable: both for him to say and for her to hear. Still, she hasn't said it back.
He releases her from his arms only to lean in and brush his lips against hers. It's slow and intimate; lacking the passion and fervor their kisses usually have. "So much." He breathes against her.
When they break apart, Olivia feels tears stinging her eyes. He's being so gentle and it's making her profoundly emotional.
"Elliot," she looks at him. "You can…" she feels her pulse quicken. "If you want to."
"You're sure?" He tucks a few loose strands behind her ear.
"Yeah, but just—" She flushes.
"Just what?" He's patient with her in a way he's never been for anyone else.
"I want to leave my shirt on." She reddens further, deeply self-conscious. "You can…touch?" Her voice is small. "But I'm not ready," she feels a tear slip and silently curses herself. "For you to see." She takes a breath. "Not yet."
"Hey," he lightly touches her cheek. "You never have to show me if you don't want to, okay? I mean that." And he does. For her, he does. "But it's not gonna change how I feel or how attractive you are. I promise you that."
"Okay." She nods.
"You trust me?" He looks into her eyes, wanting full consent.
"Of course, I do." She means it. Trust has never been easy for Olivia. It's hard when you've seen the things she has, and trusting Elliot has its own set of challenges. Sometimes she has trouble accepting that he's actually back; that he won't disappear again. Yet, somehow, the bond they formed during their ten-year partnership has never broken. It's damaged, but they're working every day to repair it.
Elliot leans in, kissing her again. He reaches the hem of her shirt and slowly inches up, lingering just below her bra-line. She's always stopped him at this point, so it's new territory for both of them. He waits a moment, then glides his fingertips up, gently and deliberately. It isn't long before he feels raised skin. He carefully moves his palm around, doing his best to feel each and every scar.
"You okay?" He pulls away from their kiss to look at her. She nods, but doesn't say a word. He sees her eyes are thick with tears. "You want to stop?" He stills his hand, letting it rest against her heart. He can feel how quick her heart rate is and worries that he's already gone too far.
"No." She blinks rapidly, shaking her head. "It's okay." She places her hand over his. Hers, resting on top of her shirt, his underneath. "I'm okay."
He kisses her again, continuing to feel around her chest and back. It's as intimate as they've been, and it's overwhelming. Of course, despite his best efforts, Elliot is turned on by the swell of her breasts. But this isn't about sex, so he puts his own needs aside. This moment is about Olivia breaking down a wall that she's kept up for a long time. Piece by piece. For him.
Once he's sure he's touched every inch of scarred skin, he slips his hand out from under her shirt, clasping her palm in his. She grips tightly, and feels herself starting to cry. She doesn't want to, but she's moved by his tenderness. No man has ever been so delicate, and he's the last person she would expect it from.
"Hey," he rests his thumb under her chin. "What is it?"
"Nothing." She shakes her head.
"Olivia," he sighs.
"I just—" she leans in and feels him wrap her in his embrace. It feels so natural, like they've always been this way. "I love you too."
Fin.