A/N: Thank you for reading! Here is a little less angst (for the moment!)
When Elliot emerges from the bathroom instead of Olivia, disappointment is written all over Noah's face, unmistakably etched into his features.
"Is my mom okay?" He asks earnestly, his usually bright blue eyes now clouded with uncertainty.
Elliot sees Noah but he hears his own kids. He remembers the sound of their voices when they asked if their mom would be okay and how he assured them that yes, of course, she would be. He believed it at the time, but now the shame is relentless; a constant thorn in his side and a weight so heavy that some days it feels nearly impossible to carry. He sometimes wishes that he'd said nothing at all and allowed the doctors to answer instead. It wouldn't have made Kathy's death any easier, but maybe he wouldn't feel so damn guilty all the time for lying—for giving his family hope when there wasn't any.
"Elliot?" Noah cuts in, eager for a response.
"Yeah, she just—" He exhales, scratching the back of his neck. "She has a really bad headache." It's the only believable excuse he can come up with.
"A...headache?"
Maybe not so believable, Elliot thinks. "She'll be alright." He offers a half-smile and steers them toward the kitchen. "How about," he suggests, opening a cabinet and taking out a few plates. "You and me get everything ready, and when your mom's feeling better we can all eat together."
"Okay." Noah reluctantly agrees, though his eyes keep shifting toward the bathroom door.
His obvious concern for Olivia is sweet and genuine but also confirms that she's his anchor: always steadfast and strong—never one to hide behind locked doors because she's struggling with PTSD. It's a form of self-preservation and control, and also a role she plays well. Elliot understands this because he does it, too. It's necessary for their line of work and naturally carries over into their personal lives, but that doesn't mean it's healthy.
"Hey, Noah." He catches his attention. "She'll be okay." He considers reaching for him, but thinks better of it.
Noah starts to relax as he sets the table, briefly distracted by the task he's been given. For a moment, everything feels so normal and domestic, like it's just part of their daily routine. It could be, Elliot hopes, if things keep going the way they are; if Olivia lets him prove to her that he's committed to their relationship and rebuilding their trust. He starts to imagine their future together, a place he typically avoids because it's too daunting. Not because he doesn't want it, but because he does. He wants it in the worst way and it terrifies him because what if, after everything, she doesn't?
It isn't lost on him that Olivia battles abandonment issues and that he's partly responsible. Mostly responsible, actually. The way he left her was selfish but how he came back was even worse, somehow. Reappearing after ten years of silence with no warning and a scribbled letter of apology. Still, she buried her own feelings to take care of him—of his entire family—when Kathy passed. When he was so broken and defeated that she was the only person who could reach him. The only one who even tried, apart from his kids. He pushed her away thinking he didn't deserve her loyalty, but she stayed. Of course, she stayed. Their love for one another is rare and runs deep, but so does his insecurity.
"How many meatballs, kid?" Elliot reaches for Noah's plate.
"Six." He replies with an air of confidence.
"Eh, I can't even eat six." He cocks his brow. "And I'm about eight times your size, so let's start with three."
"You're not a giant." Noah rolls his eyes, looking Elliot up and down like he's sizing him up. "You're more like…" his gaze narrows. "Four times bigger."
"Close enough." Elliot grins, glancing across the apartment but seeing no sign of Olivia. "You know what? You go ahead and start eating." He motions toward the table. "I'll wait for your mom."
"Okay." Noah shrugs, taking a bite.
"Better than Carisi's, or what?" He asks expectantly. "Give it to me straight."
"Different." The boy replies with a smirk. "But good."
"Not an answer, my friend." He teases.
"Elliot," Noah hesitates, dragging his fork across the plate. "Can I ask you something?" His voice is suddenly timid and almost shy.
"Sure." Elliot's wary but sits, resting his elbows on the table. "Go ahead."
"Do you—" he moves his fingers through his curls. "Nevermind." He mumbles, obviously frustrated.
"What is it?" Elliot presses, only softening when he senses Noah's agitation and uneasiness. "Look, I know we don't exactly know each other very well yet, and it might feel—I don't know, a little weird." He says, their eyes catching. "But you can—I just want you to know you can talk to me. If you want to."
"Thanks." Noah says. "My mom said I can trust you." He lazily twirls his spaghetti, eyes cast downward. "That you're one of the good guys." He quotes.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." The boy affirms. "And I guess, I was just wondering," he pauses, the silence hanging heavy between them for a few beats. "If you—I was wondering if you love my mom?"
"That's a," Elliot blinks because of all the things Noah could ask, he didn't expect this. "That's a big question."
The answer is easy, but he's unsure how he's supposed to respond and how much Olivia would be comfortable with him revealing. She knows he loves her. He tells her every chance he gets, but never in front of Noah. Not yet.
"I know." He agrees. "It's just that...you're here a lot. More than you used to be."
"Too much?"
"No." Noah shakes his head. "Not too much. Just more. And when you're here, mom seems—"
"She seems what, Noah?"
"I don't know." He chews his lip, struggling to find the right words because this conversation is hard. "Happy, I guess?"
"Oh." Elliot's shoulders relax. "Well, I hope I can make her happy." He leans back in his chair, keeping his tone even and soft. "Because she—well, she certainly makes me happy. You both do."
"What do you mean?" Noah eyes him curiously.
"I mean, I like spending time with both of you." He reiterates.
"With me, too?"
"Yeah, of course." Elliot almost laughs. "I like hanging out with you."
"Thanks." A smile forms on Noah's lips. "I like hanging out with you, too."
"And...to answer your question, yeah. I do love your mom." He takes a breath. "Very much."
"What'd I miss?" Olivia reemerges and thank God, Elliot thinks, because he was beginning to worry about Noah's potential follow-up questions.
She looks tired and worn, her eyes puffy and voice hoarse because she obviously has been crying. Elliot silently curses himself for leaving her but recognizes that he had no alternative. Someone needed to be strong for Noah, and he's just glad that she allowed him to be that person.
"Mom!" Noah greets her with enthusiasm. "Does your head feel better?"
"My—" she squints.
"Headache, Liv." Elliot clarifies, clearing his throat.
"Oh, right." She settles next to her son, lightly pressing his shoulder. "It's uh, getting better."
"I was worried about you." Noah admits, his eyes cast downward.
"I know, baby. I'm sorry." Olivia apologizes. "I'm okay."
"You promise?" He questions her because she doesn't look okay.
"I promise." She whispers. "How's dinner? It smells so good." She remarks, changing the subject.
"It is." Noah nods. "Elliot said I didn't have to wait for you to eat."
"Well, he's right." She says. "You have school tomorrow, so—"
"He also said he loves you."
She's taken aback. "Did he?" She raises her brows, her eyes flashing a warning.
"He asked." Elliot defends, holding up his palms.
"Noah, why did you..." she pinches the bridge of her nose.
She'd like to ask him why he put Elliot on the spot like that. Why he needs to know this information now, and more importantly, why he waited until they were alone to ask him. Was he trying to protect her in case Elliot said that no, he didn't love her? She's so protective of Noah and is slowly realizing that he's protective of her, too. There are so many things she'd like to say, but she's too tired and her brain can't possibly handle anything more, so instead she lets out a long sigh.
"Do you love him back?" He continues.
"You're just full of questions tonight." She deflects.
"Do you?" It isn't demanding, but it's not entirely friendly either.
"Why don't we wait until your mom's feeling better for all of this, huh?" Elliot cuts in.
"El it's fine. It's—it's okay." She stops him and looks at her son. "Noah," she treads very carefully here. "Would you be okay if I said I did?"
"I guess so? I don't know." He answers honestly.
"Honey," she sighs, kneeling in front of him so they're on the same level. "I need you to listen to me very carefully, okay?" She smooths a few of his unruly curls. "I love you so much. And I know—I know—it's always been me and you, and I need you to know that nothing can change that because you," she lifts his chin with her thumb to catch his gaze. "Are my everything." She's still reeling with emotion and feels the sting of fresh tears behind her eyes. "But…" she softens her voice even more, if possible. "There's room in my heart for Elliot, too. Can you understand that?"
Elliot watches her in awe. He's amazed by the way she connects and instinctively knows exactly what to say in every situation. She intuitively knows how to make it right in a way that's genuine and honest but also pure. It's no wonder his kids turned to her to mitigate his intervention. It's also no wonder he's so in love with her.
"I think so." He nods, noticing his mom's flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. "You're not gonna like...cry, are you?" He teases.
"No." She smiles, dabbing the corners of her eyes before she presses a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, my sweet boy." She whispers before moving back to sit in her own chair. Elliot lightly squeezes her knee because he knows how difficult this conversation must be for her. Her dynamic with Noah is so particular and she's been afraid to rattle it.
"And Elliot." Noah clarifies.
"And Elliot." She agrees with a smile.