Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments

Author: ZombieJazz

Fandom: SVU

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.

Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.

PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.

TIMEFRAME: Set in early-2020, or S21.

"Mmm …," Olivia let escape in quiet protest as Brian's hand moved.

He'd been fingering her. But not.

They'd both ended up deciding to attempt sleep at about the same time that night. Or maybe it was more they both decided they wanted some quiet, alone time without the cramped space on the couch. Or the noise and visuals on the television screen. Or the mess left in their living room or the open kitchen beckoning to them to get up and do meal prep. Or their computers and phones within easy reach guilting them with every ding or vibration and reminding them of all the work they could be working on catching up on rather than claiming a few hours of nothing. Personal time.

It'd been … nice. Needed. But incredibly mundane.

Fresh linens that had just gone through the wash that day. Still warm from the dryer and barely folded before they'd been spread on their bed. The fabric softener filling the room with a faint scent.

A new book from the library that she'd actually claimed for herself on that trip earlier in the day. One that had been on the shelves just long enough – so it had that library smell to it too but wasn't fingered enough that the pages were dulled, smudged and stained with the grease and dirt and grim of an unknown number of hands.

Brian had come up and showered – giving a small complaint about aching muscles and sore knees from all the activities the kids had kept them busy with that weekend. Basketball and ice skating and a walk around the marsh. He'd been in the shower long enough to turn it into a sauna and for her to read through nearly two chapters of her book. He'd come into the bedroom with soft, damp skin with their steamed open pores – and smelling of the brand of body wash she was sure he had been buying nearly his entire adult life. Nothing fancy – but so Brian. And the scent of it mingled with … the scent of him had become a quiet comfort and quiet turn-on that she'd come to appreciate.

She'd appreciated it enough that she'd put down her book and snuggled down into the pillows and blankets when he'd gotten into bed with her. And they'd talked – here and there in bits and spurts – as they stared each other. A rundown of the week they expected ahead of them. Division of roles and responsibilities. Anticipated highs and lows. Questions and statements that were so ingrained in their relationship and routine that none of them required more than a sentence or two of air. Many more didn't require much more than a 'yes', 'no' or 'OK'.

And amidst that usual bits and spurts of talk had been bits and spurts of touching. And kissing. And long periods of little more than just looking into the other person's eyes. And somewhere among the bits and spurts Brian's hand had rested on her hip and then found its way to hook into her waistband of the soft, flannel sleep shorts that were both warm enough and cool enough for winter and menopause. And then at another point his hand – and fingers – had spread far enough downward to spread her sex and find her clit. And then stay there as a presence and a light pressure. It wasn't entirely sexual – beyond being a small tease.

One that built ever so slightly when at some other point – another lull in their sporadic chatter – he'd begun drawing light circles with barely the pad his finger tip, varying it with slow massaging motions in spots, and at pressures, that Olivia had come to accept only could feel so accurately right out of a relationship that extended these years – not just nights, weeks or months. He knew her sweet spots.

And she'd let herself relax into it. As sexual as it was – it wasn't entirely sexual. Even from the start of it. Another thing years had taught her were Brian's moves – and the wants and needs that they grew out of. But there was little urgency in these touches – for either of them. So much so at in the early movements of his hand they'd still exchanged some random notes for the week. They were out of eggs. The Benji's school photo retake was Tuesday. They needed to remember to submit their reference for their parent-teacher conference for Emmy.

If Brian was after sex – or orgasm – that night, he wasn't in any hurry. It was clear it was about her. And he was offering a hand in maybe relaxing, maybe feeling nice … maybe feeling more.

And Olivia had eventually let herself as he made those slow, practiced and purposefully learned movements. She'd let herself settle back onto the pillow. She'd let her one hand and arm settle above her head. She'd let herself feel his closeness and presence as he nudged close to her on the bed and kissed a little at her ear and its lobe and her neck and shoulder. She turned to find his mouth a few time. But he kept the kisses brief and bordering on chaste.

So eventually she just let herself feel what he was doing for her and to work at mindfully being in the moment, which lead to her eyes closing while he played at her. Strummed her pleasure zone. Ever so slowly. Keeping it – her – in a place of warmth and relaxation and not quite tipping her into aroused need that would've sent her urging him to work faster and firmer – and to add more than his fingers to the job.

Where she was – they were – felt nice. Maybe too nice. She'd felt the warmth of the lax relaxation wash over her to the point that her eyes had closed to enjoy it. She'd felt her breathing slow – and perhaps her heart along with it. And Brian must've felt that too as his whole hand moved.

"Done already?" she murmured at him as she exhaled and turned her head toward where he was cuddled against her. She opened her eyes to see his were just opening too.

"Sorry," he muttered but his hand still moved out of her shorts and rested loosely spread at her waistband and navel instead. "I thought you fell asleep."

"Mmm …," she allowed and shifted a bit to roll back onto her side and stare at him again – there top hands finding each other and grasping with weaved fingers against their headboard. Their eyes were both open at that point. But he might've been right. She was so relaxed she knew she was in a state of semi-consciousness at that point. She was aware of where Brian's hand was and she was aware of the warmth of the quiet pleasure he was providing. But she had also been aware that his movements were less and that she was almost drowsing to the point she wasn't sure how long they'd been laying – playing – like that. "Good thing you stopped then …"

"Wouldn't want to cause an SVU moment," he mumbled and rubbed his cheek against his bicep as he still squinted and winked against the drowse she could tell he'd almost just roused from.

"Looks like you were sleeping too," she said.

"Sexsomnia …?" he suggested.

"Mmm …," she allowed with a bit of a head shake. "Not based on my understanding of it."

He just made a sound of acknowledgement.

"What time is it?" she asked, trying to get a bit of a bearing on where they were in the evening. Just how long he'd been stimulating her. Stimulating that at the time hadn't felt like she'd be tipping into orgasm territory. But now that his hand was gone her body was protesting the loss of pleasure.

"I've got no idea," Brian muttered. "And, don't want to move to find out."

She allowed a quiet sound of amusement at that. "Go back to sleep, Bri," she encouraged, massaging a bit at his elbow.

"Mmm …," he grunted a bit. "Don't know I can or will."

She hummed some acknowledgement and found his mouth. They let the kiss linger longer that time. Though, it was him who again let it go to break – and to break their gripped hands too. His fingers instead moving to comb through her hair.

"I can try to help with that," she offered. Her hand that'd been loosely sitting on his waist wasting little time to snake into the front of his briefs.

"God," he squirmed a bit. "Your hand's freezing."

Olivia gave him a quiet smile at that. It was a common protest out of him in their foreplay. But as much as he seemed to jump at the initial touch, Brian usually seemed to warm up to her touch – if not outright enjoy it. Add it to their list of expectations and turn-ons in their relationship.

"You're warm," she told him, finding his mouth again. And he kissed her again. She could feel him trying to relax into her touch – both at their joined mouths and in her hand. But she could tell it wasn't working. He remained nothing more than warm and soft against her hand.

And he sighed a little into the kiss. And broke away. His forehead resting against hers and his eyes clenching shut again like that might make some sort of difference. But she'd removed her hand.

"Sorry," Brian mumbled with an edge of frustration that she knew was directed at himself and not her.

"Please stop apologizing to me," she told him.

He exhaled halting and opened his eyes to stare nearly cross-eyed at her as their heads rested against the same pillow and their foreheads nearly touched.

"My head's just not in the right place tonight, babe …" he said.

"OK," she said and moved her hand again – this time setting it against his cheek. "Do I need to tell you that you're allowed to talk about it?"

He looked at her directly. "Did you just put the hand you had on my dick on my face?" he flat-lined.

She allowed a slightly amused sound and small smile at that. She mouthed a 'sorry' and put the hand on his shoulder instead. "You did just get out of the shower," she said.

Brian shared the small with her. And her hand moved again, though she bypassed his downy cheek and instead played with the cropped buzz that had managed to grow out around his ear and down his neck. She tugged a little at the short, soft hairs and then smoothed them out. And Brian just stared at her quietly as she did.

"Mom really liked what you got the barber to do to Ben's hair," Brian said. "Must've said it like four times tonight. I wouldn't have known what to tell the guy."

She allowed him another small smile. "I'll tell you want to say the next time you want to go in," she said.

He reached and stroked at the hair on the top of his head. "I think I'm gonna let it grow a while."

"Mmm …," she acknowledged but stared at him in consideration. "I like it this length. With this …" she said and put her hand back against the splotchy, salt and pepper down that could maybe be called an attempt at a sort of goatee. He didn't protest her touch – or where her had had been – that time.

He just made a listening sound – and then seemed to just enjoy the touch. The affection. In a way he could and was able in that moment. That night. So she continued – in much the same way he had with her. And, he again, every so often leaned closer to her for a brief, light kiss before staring at her again.

"It's been a while since we've asked Ma to take the kids for a night …," he gravelled quietly.

"Mmm …," she allowed and watched him. "You wanting a night without the kids down the hall?"

His eyes stilled and it hung there for a long moment. "What's it say that I wasn't even thinking of that …"

She hummed a little and traced her finger along his hairline. His forehead and temple and around his ear and down his neck. He prickled a little at the sensation of that touch near the sensitive nerves of his spine – first rocking away from her a bit but then pressing back to her more closely. Olivia adjusted her legs slightly as he returned – them tangling together.

"Well, I'm sure there'd be time for that too," she said. "What were you thinking?"

He sighed a bit and stared at her again. "I don't know. Do you want to go to a movie or something? Just go shoot some pool?"

She allowed him a thin smile rested her head on the pillow – measuring him. "We could do that," she allowed.

He sighed and shook his head a little – at himself it seemed. "Nah, you're right. That's a shit use of time. Lame-ass reason to ask Mom to take the kids."

Olivia shrugged. "Bri, she'd take any excuse to have the kids to herself for a night," she said. "And, they're fine uses of time. I couldn't tell you the last time we've been to a movie together. Have we ever been to a movie just us?"

He shook his head. And shrugged. But the question hung there. Or maybe it was the answer that hung there.

"I should take you to dinner …" he muttered.

"I wouldn't turn that down either," she said.

He made a sound and looked slightly beyond her for about the first time that night. Off – out the window maybe to find the lights outside or the reflection of himself inside. Though, she doubted it was that. She didn't think Brian wanted to see that reflection that night.

"What's going on in there, Brian?" she asked while she still held onto him.

He fidgeted again against her. His legs moved – almost like he might want to kick her away. To run. But she didn't move. She stayed entangled with him and slowly he still. He sighed and he gazed at her. Olivia went back to tracing her fingertip against him. She kept the gaze.

"I don't know," he muttered. "It's like … it's Sunday night and I'm already dreading the week. I'm already thinking about how to just get through to the weekend. It's like at work I'm just waiting to punch out and get home to you guys. And then when I'm here … it's this different level of too much. The kids … being kids, Ben's health. All the shit that's still hanging at work. It's like I spent my whole fucking career barely taking any of my furlough and now it's like I just fucking countdown to long weekends and feel like every fucking one of the kids' breaks I want to book it out of here."

She gave him a sad little smile and held at his shoulder. "I hear you."

"Do you?" he muttered. "Because I'm pretty sure you'd be telling me that I'm being a selfish asshole and a shit dad if you did."

"Brian, you think I don't have nights too where I put in the extra hour at work not to avoid some of the traffic but just to avoid coming home? Neither of us are Parent of the Year. I'm pretty over the Stubborn Sixes and Terrible Tweens too," she said. "I have lots of nights where I feel like I never thought parenting would be easy but I wasn't prepared for it to be this hard."

"Karma …" he muttered.

"I try to tell myself that the universe doesn't give you more than you can handle …" she said.

"And how you managing on convincing yourself of that when the universe has handed you enough pain for at least two lifetimes ...?" he faded and his eyes looked off somewhere again like he was disgusted with himself on some level.

She shrugged a little. "I think it's more I got the short-end of the stick for one lifetime and then have voluntarily taken on carrying some of that load for at least two other lives," she said and stroked her finger against his temple again until he looked at her. "Maybe three – knowing my third is my other half and carrying some of my load too." "

He made a quiet sound – or agreement or amusement or dismissal? And then he just looked at her.

"Makes things a little lighter most days …" she offered.

"Nice try …," he said.

She gave him a small frown. And they stared again.

"And, the problem at work, Cass, is that you're carrying too much of the load there too," she said. "You're having to play too many roles – when you're supposed to be a supervisory role. And, we both know what happens when we start taking on more than our job description without saying anything about it or putting in for OT. It just becomes the expectation."

"You do it," he said flatly.

"I know," she shrugged. "But I'm selective about when I play detective now. And I'm not nearly as short staffed as you. And I've got some ideas on how to fill the empty seats at this point. You need to do the same, Bri. Get some asses in those chairs and get yourself out of the field and out of the box. That's not your job description."

He exhaled and stared at her. She stroked at his hair.

"And, you're allowed to do what you need to do for you, Bri," she said. "If you think taking an hour after work to hit the gym – and get to hit something – before coming home, then do it. Tell me and we'll figure out how to make it work. Happier, healthier you is a lot better for this family too."

He sighed. "That's not fair of—"

She shook her head. "Brian, I take time too. Look at the after-work drinks I've scheduled with Rafael and Alex coming up. Two evenings, not work-related delays - and you didn't bat an eye. I didn't get given a guilt-trip. I do things for me – for my sanity – too. Neither of us can do it every day – but … self-care, Bri. It's a big part of dealing with these jobs we have. You know that. But it's part of being parents. Being parents of a sick child. Figure out what you need to do – and we'll figure out a way to make that work."

He sighed harder and just stared at her. But Olivia didn't let that self-loathing or guilt look at her too long. She instead leaned leaned in for a kiss. She lingered longer than she knew he would've. But she encouraged him to stay. Swiping his lips gently with her tongue and opening her mouth deeper for him when he responded. And they let that connection grow deeper and go on for longer. Much longer. Until it was Olivia who backed off and gave him a thin smile.

"For the record," she gave him a small smile. "I would not turn some Nashville Hot at Angry Wade's—"

He let out a real laugh almost unexpectedly. "Angry Wade's? Now there's a fucking throwback."

"Mmm …," she allowed and gripped at his bicep. "And I'd gladly kick you ass at some pinball before handing you your ass at pool."

"I don't think so …," he muttered to that part of it.

She just raised her eyebrow – challenge on. "Before planting our asses on the stools to watch the Knicks loose."

"Yea, that sounds like a real good date …," he muttered. But there was a smile to it.

And Olivia shrugged. "And, I'm just as happy to put in for some furlough and get the hell out of his town for a few days, Bri," she said. "But I'm pretty sure we'd have to take those inconveniences down the hall with us …"

"That's a lot of extra baggage," he teased.

Olivia shrugged. "Well loved baggage," she said.

And she adjusted her legs and pressed her pelvis a bit closer to him to make them both aware again of the heavy heat that had rocked against her as they kissed.

"And look at what opening up a bit and letting me help carry some of the load does …"

He tilted his head a bit against the pillow and looked at her. "Semi-soft, middle-aged dick? I pretty sure that's a standard, every day feature of my baggage anymore, Liv. If you hadn't noticed."

She just gave him a thin smile and ran her nails along his scalp. "There's something to be said for familiarity too, Bri."

He made a little sound. But she leaned in and kissed him again. She let it linger and then looked at him.

"Did you take your sleeping pill?" she asked gently.

He gave her a shrug. That was a 'yes'. She knew him well enough to know that too.

So she stroked again at his hairline. "Then it will help you sleep," she nodded at him. "And it will release a little bit of stress for both of us …"

He eyed her. And she watched those gears in his head turn. But as they did – he leaned in to kiss her deeply again. Long and longingly. Until Olivia let herself – and Brian let her – slip her hand down the strong of his shorts again.

And that time there wasn't a protest about giving him a hand. Or about either of them helping the other – as their arms and hands and legs shifted and they both moved to push their barriers out of the way and bury their briefs somewhere in the tangle of the sheets at the foot of their bed.

AUTHOR NOTE:

Feedback and reviews appreciated.

DM requests on scenes, scenarios, conversation topics and episode inspiration accepted and considered.