Fool Me Once
Fleeterberry
Yet another post not-wedding fic
Disclaimer: Not it.
"And time goes by so slowly, are you still mine?" – Unchained Melody, The Righteous Brothers
She'd thought at first that it might be awkward. There were so many things that could have been weird. But Elliot was ok with attending a wedding – or not a wedding – despite having lost his wife so recently. Olivia's current squat had no issues with Elliot, regardless of the unasked questions in their gazes and all the rumors she knew they'd heard. Fin, who had a decided bent toward teasing them – said nothing even remotely embarrassing when they joined the group at the table. Hell, Elliot didn't even say anything obnoxious that could be misconstrued by the majority of the people at the table.
Instead, it was just the eight of them – four couples to any outsider looking, but Olivia wasn't going there yet and honestly wasn't sure she ever would – sitting around a table sharing drinks and laughs and good memories. She noticed a few more curious looks as the evening wore on, particularly from Amanda when Elliot leaned in a little closer than necessary to offer Olivia a refill, but it was refreshing to be around her friends and her whatever-Elliot-was and not have to explain or defend anything.
Kat and her girlfriend were the first to leave. By the time Amanda and Carisi bumbled through a complicated explanation of why they needed to leave at the same time, which reduced Fin and Olivia to laughter, two things became clear to her. First, no one was paying any attention to them at all because everyone was consumed with their own drama, and second, they were lingering. Fin and Phoebe were entitled to sit there all night if they wanted – it was their night and they'd paid for it.
But she and Elliot were still there, mostly sharing their own comfortable silence while Fin and Phoebe had a private conversation. Olivia might normally have felt uneasy, like she was intruding on something better left alone, but she didn't. Though the four of them sat at the same table, each pair was lost in their own world. Olivia had no desire to move. She wanted to sit there forever, reveling in this new, soft Elliot with the light pressure of his knee resting against hers while his arm was slung casually over the back of her chair, almost but not quite around her shoulders. She wished she could stay at least a few more years and simply enjoy an evening of peace. Though she knew she should, she felt no discomfort in being a quarter of the people remaining who weren't employed by the venue. But when Phoebe finally stood up, Olivia knew the night was drawing to a close. She worried for a self-conscious moment that she and Elliot had been the topic of the other couple's quiet conversation, that perhaps Fin had been trying to convince Phoebe to give them that little bit of serenity in a relationship fraught with violence and pain.
In another moment, the last round of goodbyes were said. Fin and Phoebe started to leave, but paused a few steps from the table. They shared a quiet laugh and suddenly, Phoebe's bouquet landed in Olivia's lap. Feeling her cheeks burning from the embarrassment that Fin had mercifully spared her all night, Olivia took a long moment to stare at the beautiful flowers in her lap. It was a ridiculous notion, but a tiny, mostly silent, extraordinarily feminine part of her brain dared to think maybe. Determined to hide it, Olivia carefully avoided the eyes of the man who could read her mind and instead met her friend's eyes
Phoebe was laughing as Fin shrugged. "I'm not one for tradition, but if the shoe fits."
Olivia stood to offer the flowers back to Phoebe. "This is beautiful, you should keep it."
"It's all good, I had it all day." Phoebe shook her head and refused to accept her bouquet back. "Good night, guys."
Elliot chimed in, for once lacking the deep red blush that usually stained his face when their relationship came up for discussion. "You forgot the garter."
Fin grinned at his fiancé. "That's for later, Stabler."
And then they were alone. Olivia knew they'd stayed too long and should head home, but she still felt no compulsion to do anything about it, no urge to give Elliot a chance to refute her idea that he wanted to spend time with her. They no longer had any business being there, they weren't talking, the bride and groom were gone, it was time to leave. Elliot stood up while Olivia bit back a sad sigh that the evening was over.
Then Elliot's hand appeared in her line of sight, palm up, a smile on his face when she looked up questioningly.
"What?" She was too disappointed to understand.
"Dance with me."
She hadn't realized until that moment, but the music was still going, her ears picking up the opening of Unchained Melody. She felt herself blushing even as her heart leapt at the idea. They'd only ever hugged in extremely devastating situations, she couldn't begin to imagine how wonderful it would feel to be enveloped in his strong arms without a crisis unfolding.
"El, there's no one here."
"So no one will see us."
Prone as she was to overthinking, she read something into his words that wasn't there. "Is that why you didn't ask earlier? So no one would see us?" She knew no one had been dancing earlier and she would have absolutely refused to be the only couple on the dance floor, but, perhaps due to the discussions they'd never actually had about his departure and silence of ten years, she was far more insecure about their current status than she wanted to be. Not that being utterly unable to identify their current status didn't play into the insecurity.
The man knew her, even when she didn't want to admit it. "I don't care who sees us, but you do." His hand folded around hers, but he continued to wait for her approval. "One dance, Olivia, what's it going to hurt?"
She barely nodded before he pulled her into his arms. He didn't bother leading her to the dance floor. He didn't even bother moving. He was just holding her, hugging her close, his hands pressing into her back, his body leaning into hers. It was on the tip of her tongue, a quip that he needed dance lessons, a joke about the difference between a dance and a hug, but she said nothing. She wasn't sure her voice would work anyway. Her arms slid up over his shoulders, her forehead against his cheek.
They stood like that, lost in their thoughts, until the song ended. His grip on her relaxed, but he didn't move away. He only angled his head until his lips pressed closer to her ear. "See? Not so bad, right?"
She shook her head, as well as she could without lifting it from his neck. If she hadn't wanted the night to end before, now she didn't even want the moment to end. A feeling of dread rose up in her stomach, nervous butterflies reminding her that things never went her way, and she tried to ignore it. As a person who'd never dared to expect to find happiness, the idea that it felt so close scared her.
One of Elliot's hands climbed up her back and his fingers tangled in her hair. His voice came in a rumbled whisper against her temple. "I want to stay here forever."
"So do I." Her hands shifted down, her palms sliding over his chest, her fingers tucking under his jacket as she reached around his waist. Maybe it wasn't dread in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was pure desire, the anxiety so rare anymore that she didn't recognize it. Her heart started to pound when she felt his other hand weave into her hair, his fingers threading through the curls she refused to admit she'd taken extra time with in the hopes that he might notice. Then his thumbs were bracing her jaw, the slightest pressure lifting her head to face him.
This was one of those moments, she knew. One she'd remember forever. Like the day she'd met him. Like the first time she'd held Noah. Like when her eyes had found his for the first time in ten years.
His lips pressed against her forehead in a lingering kiss, his eyes sparkling when he leaned back to look at her. She was having trouble reconciling this gentle, sweet, open man with the jaded tough partner she'd known. But that angry guy had been her married partner. This man – he wasn't off limits and he wanted her to know it. She'd seen glimpses of him over the past months, shy smiles, brushes of fingers, eye contact that shook her to her core. She met his soft smile with one of her own, feeling silly that such a common exchange was still unfamiliar between a pair who'd known each other for so long.
"That night, with the kids, you asked me what I needed."
She swallowed hard, remembering his original answer that had literally stunned her beyond words. She found herself wondering when Elliot had become the more emotionally aware of the two. She found herself wondering if Elliot would be as patient with her as she had always been with him.
"I meant what I said."
Her eyes darted back and forth between his, her brain trying to absorb all the information she was receiving without nearly enough time to process it.
"I need you."
She felt his thumbs wiping at the tears she hadn't even realized were falling. She answered, her mouth running off and revealing something that was as much news to her as it was to him. "You have me." But it was true. As strong and fierce and independent as she was, there had always been a small part of her that belonged to him. At this moment, she wasn't even sure the piece was all that small.
"I want you to know one thing, Olivia." His unguarded expression morphed into one of utter seriousness, reminding her so much of the man she'd always known. "I will never leave you again, ok?" He leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers, his eyes locked on hers, his face softening once again. "I love you."
The intensity of his stare and the mention of his absence brought a fresh wave of tears rolling down her cheeks. She fought to keep herself from sobbing, to keep her chin from trembling. She tried to reason with herself, to remember that she was finally in the arms of the man she'd loved in secret for so many years, to remind him that she wasn't normally a basketcase, but there was nothing she could do right then as the dam broke on her feelings anyway. She was finally hearing the words she'd so desperately wanted to hear from him for so long when he wasn't under duress. Elliot was standing before her calm and exposed and confessing his feelings for her.
She leaned into him, burying her sobs in his shirt, relishing in the sensation of his arms winding around her again. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, his voice shushing her.
"I'm sorry, Liv, I didn't mean to upset you." His tone was soft, his voice uncertain. "I won't bring it up again. I'm so sorry."
She shook her head again, her nails digging into him to make him stop backpedaling. Of course he would assume he'd done the wrong thing. This vulnerable, honest side to their relationship was so new that it was easy for him to think he'd misread something, misread her.
"No, stop, don't apologize." She stepped back, forcing her hands to release their hold on him, watching as his hands fell limply back to his sides. She reached up, mindful of her mascara as she carefully tried to wipe away her tears without making a mess. "I wasn't sure you were ever going to mention that night again. I wasn't expecting it tonight."
"I wasn't sure it was a good idea to bring it up again." He winced, an involuntary response that told her he was as nervous and uncomfortable with the changes between them as she was. He stared at her for a long time, sizing her up much the way he did with suspects. "I'm still not sure."
Finally gaining control of her voice and emotions, she smiled at him. "You should know better than to surprise me, El."
He acknowledged her statement with a quirk of his eyebrows and a snicker. "You haven't changed a bit."
She had, truly, but this magical evening wasn't the time to bring up all the reasons why. Reaching out, she tapped the expensive suit he was wearing. "Well, you certainly have." The changes weren't limited to his clothes and she hoped he knew that she'd noticed.
She wasn't prepared for the way he started at her then, his eyes boring into hers, his expression open and vulnerable, his face somehow conveying the truth of those words he'd dropped between them once again with a room full of witnesses, although at least this time the waitstaff didn't appear to be listening. Her jaw dropped as she allowed the truth to wash over her. He really meant it, or, at the very least, he was absolutely convinced he did.
He shook his head slowly. "The situation changed, Olivia, not me."
She swallowed hard, one of her hands gripping the back of the chair next to her to keep herself on her feet. She wasn't sure how long she could stay upright. She couldn't believe he was being so bold, so honest, about things she had been trying for over twenty years not to think about. She could barely believe he was telling the truth. He loved her. He had loved her. The fact that it hadn't been as one-sided as she'd always believed hit her like a ton of bricks. She'd always supported his marriage, his wife, his return to his family, all the times he'd seemed to question his commitment because she'd truly thought he was happier with Kathy. He'd always followed her lead, a pattern that convinced her she was right whenever it unfolded. And now she realized he'd been voicing his doubts to her because he was waiting for a sign from her.
Maybe if he'd thought he could turn to her he would have.
Maybe he wouldn't have left.
Maybe they could have had ten more years as partners, as friends, as more.
She collapsed heavily into her chair. How much pain had she brought on them, on herself? How much of her struggle had been her own fault?
Elliot joined her, pulling his chair closer until his knees bracketed hers. "Liv?"
She met his eyes and let her sorrow show on her face. "I didn't know."
He nodded. "I know. I wouldn't, I couldn't, tell you then." He reached for her hands, squeezing them tightly. "What do you think I was always so fucking angry about?"
She nodded, suddenly recognizing his utter frustration with everything for what it was, suddenly understanding that his fits of rage were actually barely controlled passion, suddenly understanding why she had always been the only one who could ever talk him down. "But things are different now?"
He reached up, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and holding her eyes. "I hope so."
Any response she might have made was cut off by the crash of plates and silverware as the servers decided to start clearing tables. She'd been dreading the end of the evening since he'd walked in and somehow it had still snuck up on her.
He took her hand as he stood to bring her with him. "We should probably go." He didn't need to say it again, but she heard it all the same. He wanted to stay there as much as she did. Dropping her hand as soon as she was on her feet, he turned back to the table. Then Phoebe's bouquet was in front of her. "Can't forget this." His eyes were dancing with mischief and he was grinning so hard she had no choice but to smile back
They started walking toward the door with their hands nearly brushing, but by the time they reached the parking lot, Elliot's hand was wrapped around hers. In another few steps, their fingers were entwined.
He used that grip to tug her closer when they reached her truck, his lips pressing against her cheek, his mouth making contact with her skin for just a hair too long. He wanted more, but he was trying to follow her lead, leaving the pace up to her; she was still trying to catch up, trying to understand all the things he'd told her since he'd been back, all the things he'd told her in the last half hour.
"Good night, Olivia."
There was something about the way he said her full name that made her insides turn to jelly. "Night, El."
He stepped back, leaving their fingers attached as long as he could, letting their arms stretch across the space between them. "Let me know when you get home, ok?"
She nodded, smiling and blushing and staring at a man she'd known for over twenty years like he was her junior high crush. When she finally turned away to climb into her seat, she decided it was only fair. He was so many things to her - partner, friend, protector, love, soul mate - he filled so many spaces in her life that he was almost everything, just like those puppy love days she'd enjoyed in her childhood.
She felt like she was floating as she drove, her smile frozen in place. At the red lights, she'd see the bouquet sitting in the passenger seat and grin harder. She was still floating when she walked into her apartment.
Lucy greeted her with a curious smile. "You seem happy."
The question was innocent, a valid response to her silly grin, but it gave Olivia pause. The smile faded as she let the concept roll around in her brain. She'd never imagined reaching this point in her life. The point where she could look around and say she was happy. The point where she found no qualifier, no need to desperately ignore some enormous area, no desire to add "except for" to the statement, not even the ominous butterflies from earlier that usually warned her against such thoughts. And then the smile was back. "You know, I think I am."
Unsure of exactly how life-changing realization it was for her employer, Lucy nodded at the couch. "Noah wanted to wait for you. I tried to get him to go to bed, but-"
Liv turned to see her precious boy curled in the fetal position, his blanket tangled around one foot while mostly lying on the floor. She shrugged as she turned back to Lucy. "He was so excited, I hope he wasn't too much of a handful for you." It was only a moment of reassurance from Lucy later that the woman was on her way and Olivia was carrying the boy she had to admit was getting a little heavy for her to his bedroom.
His eyes blinked open when she set him down. "Did you get to dance, Mommy?"
She smiled at him and nodded. "Yes, I did."
He smiled back. "I knew you would." He was asleep again a moment later with an ease she envied.
Too keyed up to sleep yet herself, she drifted back to the kitchen to put Phoebe's flowers in some water. Lucy's iPad was sitting on the counter where it had been left to charge. Olivia thought about calling her, but decided against it, figuring the woman would probably survive without it for the few hours before she was due back. Instead she carefully arranged the vase on the opposite side of the counter to avoid any mishaps.
She considered having more wine now that she was home, some water to ward off a morning headache, even a snack since it had been hours since she'd eaten anything. But she did none of those things. Instead she stared at the bouquet with her irrepressible grin and thought about the fact that she had danced - sort of - with Elliot Stabler. It was almost an afterthought to text him that she was home. She wasn't used to having anyone looking out for her anymore. It reminded her of the early years of their partnership, before he trusted her to take care of herself, when he took it upon himself to look out for her. Rather than making her feel weak, it made her feel important and special and it only served to endear him to her.
She stayed in the kitchen a good fifteen minutes, eventually sipping a glass of water, telling herself she wasn't waiting for a response from him and trying to convince herself she wasn't disappointed when she didn't get one. She'd had a wonderful night, enjoyed spending time with Elliot in a situation that was neither a crisis nor life threatening, and had even gotten to dance just as Noah had predicted when he saw her wearing her "fancy" dress. Reluctantly she headed to the bedroom to change. She was tired, after all, no matter how much she irrationally thought that staying in her dress and heels would keep the night - the one that was clearly long over - from ending. As she got undressed for her shower, she caught herself reaching for her phone to check for a response. It felt stupid, a little too girlishly indulgent for a grown woman of her status so she left the phone on the nightstand and resolutely promised she'd ignore it until morning.
And, with a deep breath, Olivia reminded herself that she wasn't ready to fall in love with the man again. Not yet. He still had to prove himself to her, to prove that he was back, to prove he wasn't going to ghost her again. She couldn't afford to let him in too soon. Even if she was, as she suspected, already in love with him and had always been, she didn't need to give in, she didn't need to tell him, she didn't need to encourage what would hurt too much to lose. She'd barely survived losing him the first time. She was pretty damn sure a second time really would kill her.
After her shower, after she washed her face, after she brushed her hair, she climbed into bed, steadfast in her promise of not looking at the phone. She'd made it ten years without a word; she could last ten hours on her own terms.
Her eyes hadn't closed when she heard the knock at her door. WIth a groan that she hadn't called Lucy about the damn iPad earlier and more than a little irritated that the woman couldn't have waited until morning, Olivia made her way to the door, determined to stop the knocking that had become loud, insistent pounding in less than a minute. Worried that the sound would scare Noah, she didn't stop to get the tablet. She headed straight for the door, checked the peephole, and was utterly shocked to see a red-faced Elliot banging on her door.
She remembered the old days, when she would have answered the door in a tight tank top and boxers and enjoyed the unconscious way he'd check her out. The frumpy silk pajamas were comfortable and practical, but not exactly appealing - the complete opposite of the designer suit Elliot was still sporting. Pushing the thought from her mind, she pulled open the door before he could break it down.
"Damn it, Elliot, you're going to wake Noah." She admonished him in a hushed whisper.
But the words were barely out of her mouth when she found herself yanked hard against his chest, his massive arms threatening to crush her as he hugged her tight.
Stunned into silence by the display, she stayed still, her arms moving to encircle him out of instinct. She slowly started to process the details she hadn't noticed at first, his uneven pants, his sniffles, his shaking shoulders. Something was very, very wrong.
"El, what? What happened? What is it?" She felt tears building in her eyes, her emotions responding to his without even knowing what was going on. Her arms loosened from his waist, her hands pushing on his belly as she tried to put space between them.
He didn't release her, his face turning into her neck, his tears wet on her skin. She listened as he drew in several shaky breaths, fighting for and losing the ability to speak over his hiccups several times. Eventually he lifted his head, his face still pressed against hers, his lips by her ear as he haltingly whispered out his explanation. "You didn't tell me you got home ok." She didn't have the chance to refute his statement when his arms tightened again. "I thought something happened to you."
It took all her strength, but she managed to push him away, expecting he'd have an easier time getting control over the PTSD if he could see her. "El, I'm fine, just breathe, ok?" She held his eyes, taking slow deep breaths, waiting for him to mirror her unconsciously. Once the panic faded, she suspected he'd be mortified. And she needed to set boundaries to protect her child. "I sent you a text," she stated firmly, "you should have checked your phone."
The correction oddly got through to him faster than anything else would have and he pulled away with a heavy sigh. His head dropped, his embarrassment arriving sooner than she had predicted. "I checked my fucking phone."
Her tone matched the anger and irritation in his. "It's not twenty years ago, you can't come pounding on my door at all hours of the night."
"Jesus, Liv, I thought you were hurt or sick or dead so I really didn't give a shit about waking your neighbors." He ran his hands over his face and glared at her as though he were about out of patience. She'd seen the look many, many times and really wanted to deck him for it considering how very out of line he was.
"I don't give a shit about waking the neighbors either. This is about my son, Elliot. He's a child and he's been through enough already. I don't want you scaring him." She knew as soon as she said it that she'd hit a nerve, before she saw the involuntary twitch as he clenched his jaw. He'd always been protective of kids, he would be protective of Noah if they ever got to meet, and the insinuation that he would be threatening in any way to her child cut him deep.
And in typical Elliot style, he masked his pain with fury, raising his voice in a complete justification of her words. "What did you think was going to happen? Did you think I'd just let it go when I didn't hear from you? Were you trying to scare the shit out of me?"
Clenching her jaw and balling her hands into tight fists, she forced herself not to scream back at him. She had to keep her voice quiet and remember that Noah would be just as upset, if not more, at seeing her yelling. She counted to ten, telling herself that she'd had a wonderful night, which was almost exclusively due to the man who was currently pissing her off beyond words. She counted to ten again, telling herself it was a compliment he cared enough to get so scared for her safety. She counted to five while trying to tell herself how useful his excessive worry might have been a decade earlier in preventing the most traumatic experience of her life.
Her ire was rekindled rather than calmed and she made the decision to throw him out, to freeze him out for long enough that he might regain control of his temper, although, at his age, she really doubted that was ever going to happen. But she was still irritated that he was going to conveniently forget details and pretend the whole fight was her fault, so she decided she'd prove him wrong. Then she could kick him out on his ass.
She stormed her way into the bedroom to get her phone, to show him the text, to justify the idea that she was going to refuse to talk to him. When she turned around to return to the hallway where she'd left him, she was shocked to see him standing behind her. She'd expected him to wait, but she recognized the flaws in that logic immediately. First, angry Elliot never let her walk away from a fight. And second, well, this man was a strange combination of angry Elliot and clingy Elliot and she was suddenly very afraid that he might actually refuse to leave unless she involved the authorities.
"I texted you I was home." She swiped open her phone and handed it to him, the display still on the text list, with her message to him on top. She thought he'd at least look ashamed for a moment.
Instead he raised his eyebrows and turned the phone back to her. "This one, right here?"
She looked at it, read her words, then the exclamation point and the "message not sent" response from her carrier. All of a sudden, she was the asshole and she sat down heavily on the side of her bed. She'd been trying to be smart and independent and strong by refusing to look at her phone, by refusing to admit his lack of response hurt. Instead she'd given her friend a panic attack and started a fight.
"Yeah, that one," she sighed. "El, I'm-"
"I know." At least he didn't make her say it. He sat down next to her, his hand reaching out to cover hers. "Me too."
"You weren't wrong though, it wasn't unreasonable for you to worry-" She winced, knowing it wasn't a good idea to continue. She couldn't actually voice the thought that of course he'd freak out over losing her the same way he had over his wife. Shaking her head, she corrected herself - he hadn't freaked out over losing her. He'd been worried about her atypically blowing him off and his recent trauma exaggerated that fear. It wasn't her that he was panicked over losing, it was the loss of Kathy that made him unable to think straight enough to call her before he got hysterical.
And if he were still so close to the edge, she had to rethink everything she'd assumed was going on with them.
She felt vulnerable, exposed, naked, sitting in her pajamas on her bed in her dark bedroom after flirting the night away with a man who was still quite obviously grieving the loss of his wife, the woman who'd meant everything to him, the woman to whom he'd been loyal for forty years. Olivia felt sick, ready to gag over the enormous rock weighing heavily in her stomach and on her shoulders.
She'd forgotten for a while that they weren't yet equals, that she was supposed to be protecting him. That had been the magic of the evening, a brief respite from reality, a tiny little sliver of life where they were on equal footing emotionally. She wanted to curl up in the bed and cry, or at least rue the loss of the spell that had enchanted her for a few hours. But she couldn't, didn't, have that luxury. She had to deal with the fragile, wounded man sitting next to her first.
"Are you ok?" She kept her voice low, partly so Noah wouldn't hear her talking if he awoke, partly because there was no way she could use her regular voice without it cracking.
In the past, Elliot would have either immediately lied and said he was fine or he would have ignored the question, bade her goodnight, and left her to wonder if she shouldn't have stopped him. But this Elliot, this different Elliot that she kept trusting like she trusted old Elliot, was a very different man.
He sat quietly for a moment, his hand still atop hers, his fingers lightly caressing the backs of hers. When he spoke, it was a matching whisper, though his voice still cracked. "Can I stay here?"
She almost laughed that he'd phrased it as a question. Olivia was exhausted, but by asking to stay, he was declaring that he was not ok. Therefore, she could stay up and counsel him until he felt strong enough to leave or she could let him stay so she could actually get some rest.
"You want me to make up the couch?" He didn't answer except to meet her eyes. Of course not, that would defeat the purpose and possibly save her sanity. She nodded. "Get some sleep, El."
She moved to the other side of the bed, curling into her usual spot. She ignored the sounds of him moving around behind her. She knew he would shed the blazer, the tie, and the dress shirt. Everything else, however, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. The man didn't have an ounce of modesty - she wouldn't either if she had the body of a twenty-something still - but he might try to spare her the discomfort of having him strip nearly naked and climb in her bed or he might consider the possibility of a sleepy Noah coming in to his mother's room after a nightmare.
She tried to will herself to fall asleep in seconds, but she had trouble falling asleep in less than an hour on a normal night. She wished she'd opted to talk to Elliot until he was calm enough to go home. Sleep was unlikely to find her for a good long time with Elliot Stabler in her bed. Still, she kept hoping, thinking maybe exhaustion would win out, despite the adrenaline response that accompanied the sound of his belt he unhooked it.
It was a moment or an hour later when the cold air snuck under her comforter as he climbed in beside her. She hoped he would stay on the opposite side, to be content with being there at all without overstepping any more boundaries. She hoped he would snuggle up to her and demand the physical reassurance of her presence.
The good part about being undecided was that she would be happy either way.
The bad part about being undecided was that she would be unhappy either way.
She didn't know what to think when he pressed himself against her back, his body matching hers as he curled himself around her. She could feel the roughness of his suit pants where his leg rested over hers and she tried to be glad for an extra layer between them. Not that it made much difference when his face nuzzled into her hair and his breath tickled her neck. It was the third time she'd been in his arms that night, far and away a record-breaker for them tying the number of times she'd been in his arms in the previous twenty years. With the way her heart was racing, she knew she'd be up all night trying to remember that he was probably thinking about his late wife and pretending he was in their bed.
Maybe it was sheer exhaustion. Maybe it was the subconscious connection between them. However it worked, she barely finished thinking she'd be up all night before she fell sound asleep.
She really had no idea how long she'd been asleep. It was still dark outside with no hint of dawn trying to sneak around the edges of her curtains. Her ears were on alert for telltale signs that a sound from Noah's room had caught her attention.
But it became immediately clear that Noah had absolutely nothing to do with why she was awake. Elliot was still pressed against her, his hand flat on her belly, his head had moved though, his face now turned down into her neck, his lips on her skin. As her once again pounding heart erased any sleepy confusion from her mind, she tried to reason with herself that he was just moving around in his sleep, the unfamiliar as of late sensation of being touched causing her alarm when there was nothing to fear.
And then his hand moved, shifting the slightest bit lower on her abdomen, pulling her back into his body. In particular, into a part of him that was very much not asleep regardless of his level of consciousness. She bit back the groan that threatened when Elliot's hips pushed against her with every intent in the world no matter how many layers of clothing remained between them.
His mouth wasn't innocent either, his lips pressing into her flesh, his mouth falling open a second later to allow his tongue to brush along her throat. She was pretty damn sure she could die happy right at that moment, finally experiencing the heaven that was Elliot Stabler seducing her.
Reality elbowed its way through her muddled thoughts, reminding her that it had been Kathy, not herself, who had been on Elliot's mind when he went to sleep. He was lost in a waking dream, imagining his wife in his arms, not his former partner. She tried not to be hurt at the notion, told herself it wasn't an insult that he would think of Kathy in such a position, when he was most likely sharing a bed for the first time in a very long time with someone besides her.
Still, it stung. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Elliot, wake up."
He didn't respond, she really hadn't expected three words would be enough to wrench him from the happy dream he thought he was having, but she was disappointed nonetheless. She had to keep trying before things got really out of hand. She reached for his hand, digging her nails into his skin, and spoke a bit louder. "Elliot, wake the fuck up."
His mouth, which had moved to suckle on her earlobe, issued a groan, but she had no idea what it meant besides that he was still completely unaware of what the hell was going on. His hand was pressing harder as he pushed his hips tightly against her ass. His other hand was pulling her hair away from her neck as his mouth seemed to be everywhere at once.
"Come on, Elliot, wake up, it's me."
The pressure finally relented on her belly, his hand instead retreating to her hip as he pulled away, just far enough to push her onto her back. She couldn't think as he rolled on top of her, her mind lost in desire to let him dream just to keep feeling what it was like to finally have his hands on her in the way she'd wanted for so long. But it wasn't right and she knew it wasn't right and once again, she realized she was going to have to be the adult in the room. She opened her eyes, unsure when they'd even closed, except she was relatively certain it was when she felt his knees wedging between hers.
She gasped in shock when she looked at him, seeing his eyes were wide open, taking in the way his body was braced on his elbows over her, realizing he was staring right at her and didn't appear to be even the least bit sleepy or confused to see her underneath him.
One side of his mouth curved up into the sexiest grin she'd ever seen. "I know who you are, Olivia."
She found herself nodding as her overwhelmed brain tried to comprehend that he was awake and he did know it was her and he was hard as a fucking rock and he was fully onboard with consumating their relationship right then. She stopped nodding when she determined he hadn't asked her anything. Although, from the look in his eyes and the way he'd paused mid-seduction, maybe he had.
One of his hands moved to her face, his fingers tracing along her forehead and cheek and lips and chin. "I love you, I'm certain I told you that already."
She felt herself shaking, but she wasn't sure if it was due to his words or his feather light touch on her neck or the comforting weight of his bulky body resting on her.
He leaned forward and let his lips trail across her jaw, sliding down one side of her neck before moving up and hovering over her mouth. "Is this ok, Liv?"
This time there was a question, she was sure of it, but she didn't answer because she was waiting for that moment between them, the one that had been inevitable since the day they'd been introduced, the one when they finally kissed. It took her a little too long to determine that he was waiting for an answer. And even longer for her to decide what it should be. Although, she wasn't certain when she would ever be sure.
"Yes," she breathed, thinking she could worry about it later, and then realizing that if she was so confused as to not know what to say that she probably shouldn't agree to anything. "No." She waited for him to make the decision, decided to trust him, decided she wouldn't blame him either way. But he remained where he was, his body frozen along hers, unwilling to call this one. She shrugged and admitted what she knew he didn't want to hear, but would undoubtedly recognize as one of the truest statements she'd ever made. "I don't know."
His eyes held hers as he nodded. "Tell me when you're ready." A moment later, he was on his back, pulling her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, sifting his fingers through her hair. "Is this ok?"
She nodded and snaked her arm around his waist. "Yes, this is fine."
"Get some sleep."
She wanted to scoff and point out how preposterous such an idea was, that she could possibly calm down enough after that interlude to sleep, but just like earlier that night, his presence in her bed quieted her mind in a way all the yoga classes in the world couldn't. She was asleep in minutes.