It's not something he likes to admit out loud, but Elliot's always quietly appreciated formal NYPD events. Back when he'd been a new detective, the fundraisers and award ceremonies and elegant dinners had made him feel important and included. Despite the sometimes-corrupt cops, the overpriced venues and the catering, and the unnecessary funding that went into planning these NYPD ass-kissing parties, Elliot silently appreciated the excuse to rent a suit he couldn't afford to own and sipping free drinks from the all-inclusive bar while he pretended to like these people.
As he grew in his career, his appreciation for these events slowly dissolved. He'd had four children at home, and he'd been working overtime almost every week. Every time he'd received an invitation for himself, plus one, for an NYPD event, Kathy had rolled her eyes and gave him a Do we have to go? look. In fact, Kathy had only attended one event with him. She'd looked beautiful in a pale-yellow gown that floated down over her toes, but she'd been irritated the entire night. Elliot didn't blame her. Yes, they'd gotten the rare opportunity for a date night. One in which they'd gotten to dress their best and eat and drink for free. But with that came sitting through boring speeches and Elliot having to introduce Kathy to so many people she didn't know and would never see again. They were tired, and the gala had been a little overwhelming for her. They'd gone home that night, changed out of their uncomfortable getups, and passed out.
And when Liv entered his life, he'd developed an entirely new reason to love NYPD galas and award ceremonies. She'd disliked many things about these events, as well, but damn did she know how to work a room. Liv hated faking a smile all evening, but she loved donning herself in designer clothes. "We see a lot of ugly in our job, Stabler, you can't blame a girl for trying to fill her life with pretty things," she'd commented one night during a stakeout after he'd teased her for spending over a thousand dollars on a Valentino bag. He hadn't told her at the time, but he loved that she splurged on beautiful things for herself. She deserved to have someone filling her life with rich extravagance.
Sometimes he'd wonder where she got the money for such luxuries but then he remembered that she lived a simple life. Liv didn't have to afford to feed a family of five. She didn't have to set money aside for a house in Queens, or soccer and dance classes, or medical bills for broken arms and annual checkups. Liv paid for her apartment and her bills and that was it. In all their years together as partners, Elliot had learned the paradox that Liv was. She wore practical pant suits and sported a no-bullshit attitude, but Liv liked femininity and glamour. She could have a perp squirming in interrogation and then turn around and soke in a lavender- infused bath. She could pull the trigger and then indulge in decadent chocolates and diamond necklaces. He doesn't dare allow his mind to dream up delicate lace and finely-made satin lingerie bound to her curves.
"It's Oscar de la Renta, El… if I have to be here, I'm going all out." She'd grinned and sipped her red wine while soothing one hand down the front of her black dress. He'd seen her in Dolce & Gabbana and Ralph Lauren and Christian Louboutin that he'd only recognized because of his daughters. He'd think of Serena. Serena Benson, the English literature enthusiast and wonder how much influence the sophisticated writings of Jane Austen and Shakespeare had on Liv's love of elegance. She floated through the sea of NYPD cops like some kind of royal.
He'd watched as men of all ages and relationship statuses kissed her cheek and tried to hold her attention all night long. He'd watch her woe everyone. She'd make the most boring of old white men laugh, made the wives of police captains and commissioners invite her over for dinners that she'd never go to. He'd watch time and time again as Cragen would introduce his team to other officers and beam with pride when Liv would smile and drop some witty comment. She made people feel heard, important. She'd own any room she walked in to.
Suddenly, formal police events became something Elliot loved for an entirely new reason. A dangerous reason. Because once Liv started bringing random dates, Elliot had known he needed to step back and get a grip. The jealousy that filled his veins couldn't be ignored as some nobody rested their hands low on her back. He'd known that the lucky bastard would get to take her home at the end of the night. That he would get to peel her out of the expensive material that hugged her curves and kiss her senseless. The imagery was enough to ruin his infatuation for the prim occasions and he'd started declining invitations left and right. He'd told himself that he would stay home for the sake of his marriage, his family. And then, without warning, he'd never gotten to see Liv in a beautiful gown again. He'd thought he'd seen her in a thousand-dollar designer dress for the last time. A realization that made him hurt. He'd accepted it; the decision he had made to leave her without a word, his life's biggest regret.
Yet here he is. Years later, standing at a lush bar right next to a costly water fountain waiting for the nicely dressed bartender to hand him his whiskey on the rocks. Elliot is older now and more refined. He no longer needs to rent sophisticated suits because now he owns multiple. He'd looked forward to this evening almost to an embarrassing degree. He'd looked forward to layering himself in Italian silk and wool. He'd spritzed himself in Dior and tried to calm his nerves before entering the oversized room. His heart pounded for her. He ached to see her, ached to show her how he's grown. It physically pained him to think of how badly he wanted to prove himself to her. He wasn't leaving again. Never again. They'd been on the brink of something new. Something new and exhilarating and so pure he doesn't know if he'll be able to survive one more moment of waiting. Patience isn't a skill of his, but she is wary and unsure and always has one hand clutching onto him simultaneous with one foot out the door. For Olivia, he'd wait multiple lifetimes.
Bell walks in wearing a pinstriped, fitted pantsuit and he asks the bartender for a glass of white wine that he knows she'll want. Finally, a familiar face to help distract him from stalking the room with his eyes in search of his partner.
"Stabler, look at you." She teases with her eyebrows raised. She thanks him for the drink and continues, "trying to impress anyone in particular?"
He feels his neck heat up in embarrassment but tries to reign it in.
"What? Of course not…" He's not at all convincing as he sips from his glass.
"Ya know Elliot, you're not subtle." She chuckles and adds, "I have to go mingle with the brass or I'll never hear the end of it." She rolls her eyes and disappears.
He scopes the room again and meets eyes with Fin across the room. He's got Phoebe on his arm, and they look happy. Fin greets him with a head nod and a look that says, I'll find you later.
He's about to go find his seat when he feels a body behind him, leaning against the bar. For a split second he thinks it might be Liv and he smiles as he turns around but then he gets a whiff of cheap perfume and no. That's not his Liv.
"Detective Stabler, oh hi!" A petite blonde woman he remembers meeting once at an OCCB meeting excitingly greets him.
"We've met, my name is Theresa. I work in Internal Affairs." She's leaning in far too close to him and he leans back a bit. She's pretty, maybe late fifties or early sixties. She's wearing some bright red thing and talking just a tad too loud.
"Oh yes, hi… Elliot" he states and offers his hand for a shake.
"Oh I remember you…" She flirts and he must escape. "I was hoping maybe you'd like to get a drink with me after this? Maybe get to know each other."
Elliot considers himself to be a smooth talker with women, but he can't force it right now. Not when he's so desperate to take a different woman out for a drink tonight. Not when this other woman is the love of his goddamn life.
'Oh… I'm sorry, I can't." He isn't even trying to be polite as he investigates the room once again.
"Well, that's okay, maybe we could meet for coffee this weekend instead?" He knows Theresa is still talking but her high-pitched voice gets lost in the background when he finally lands eyes on Liv.
She's magnificent in a navy-blue dress covered in floral print. The dress has sleeves that end in the middle of her upper arm and the neckline is sin. The scoop of it squared until it hits her cleavage and V's down just enough to remain respectful. The dress slits at her shins and shows just enough ankle to display pink stilettos that do not look safe for her healing ankle. Her hair is lightly curled and flows over her shoulders and down her back. He can hear her velvet laugh as some irrelevant man kisses her on the hand and hands her a glass of red wine.
Who the hell is that? He thinks. Doesn't matter. He tells himself; he's going over there right now.
But then Theresa is resting her hand on his chest and asking if he heard her.
"I'm sorry, uh… Theresa? But I have to go." As he goes to walk around her, he feels her hand latch onto his forearm through his suit jacket.
"Wait!" Her voice raises slightly in tone and volume, and it has Elliot's eye snapping to hers. "A friend of mine told me you're a widow… I am too. And I know how difficult it can be to put yourself out there again. I'm embarrassed but," she chuckles and bites down on her lip. Elliot can see that some of her red lipstick is now stuck to her front tooth as she, once again, leans her body into his and presses her palm into his chest.
He tries to turn his head around to see Liv, to make sure she hasn't moved from where he saw her last, but Theresa is talking again.
"Oh…" She doesn't step away from him for a moment. Actually, it seems as though she has somehow gotten even closer.
"Olivia Benson," Theresa chokes her name out and lets out another sarcastic snicker. "Listen, I… I've heard that she's cold as ice. Drags men around but never actually wants them, never wants to take care of them." Theresa finally stops talking and backs away from Elliot. Suddenly she's pulling a card out of her handbag and forcing it into Elliot's hand.
"Give me a call when you learn that you're no different than the others." Elliot stands dumbfounded as she walks away. Who does this woman think she is? She obviously read Elliot wrong if she thought she'd gotten into his head. He's learned since his return to New York City that Liv has a hell of a reputation within the NYPD. He's heard things. There are some, like Jet and Ayana, who speak of captain Benson as though she personally paved the way for women in law enforcement. Those same people look at her with wonder in their gaze and respect in their stance. But there are others, like Donnelly and the Brotherhood, who saw her as a gorgeous woman who used her femininity to get to the top. Elliot's heard it all.
Elliot has watched men fall for Olivia time and time again, tripping over their own feet in their attempts to win her over. He knows her defense mechanisms. He knows that she never loved any of these poor bastards enough to let them all the way in. It's no surprise that this Theresa woman would've heard these rumors and ran with them. Her skin may as well have turned green because the jealousy dripping from her lips was incredibly unappealing.
As he turns toward where he'd seen her last, he barely catches a glimpse of her dress and her hair exiting out of the large balcony doors. Elliot slams back the last sip of his whiskey before ordering another one plus a glass of red for her.
He hightails it towards the doors holding a glass in each hand.
"Liv! Hey…" He catches her typing on her phone off in a quiet space off to the side of the yard.
"Elliot. Hi." Her voice has goosebumps popping up all over his arms and spreading up his neck. She gives him a smile, but she looks shy, withdrawn.
"You okay?" He asks her quietly then adds, "I brought you a drink… thought we could spend some time together, ignore the politics going on in there." He throws a boyish grin her way.
"I uh… I…"
"You look… you look great Liv." He can see her brain tripping over her words as she tries to think up an appropriate response. God, he wishes she'd stop thinking so damn hard.
"It's unfair actually, how you've managed to avoid the process of aging while I… well you know." He motions toward his lack of hair and gets the lighthearted chuckle he'd hoped for. She gifts him with a modest, but sincere, smile.
"Please, Elliot… look at you. Aging has only done you favors." She nearly whispers and Elliot's cheeks feel warm. He offers the glass of wine out to her and feels his heart beating out of his chest as her hand comes up to grab it.
"You weren't going to invite me to join you out here?" He leans his body up against the brick wall of the building and tries to calm his nerves. His entire reason for coming to this godforsaken fundraiser is standing right in front of him.
"I just needed a little air. It was starting to feel stuffy in there and…" she lets her voice linger away and pauses to sip her wine before continuing as she avoids his gaze. "I saw you talking with someone else, didn't want to interrupt." She's taking another sip, looking down at her feet, and clearing her throat.
"Interrupt?" His eyebrows crinkle into his forehead as he sees her eyes lingering on the card still being crushed in his hand. He'd completely forgotten he was holding Theresa's contact card. When he meets her gaze this time, he notices the flush of her skin rising up her chest. Her cheeks are lightly tinted in what looks like humiliation, shame even.
"Olivia, Jesus." This woman. How can't she know? He takes a gigantic step toward her but she's hesitant and keeps her distance. "She said her name was Theresa, we'd met at an OCCB meeting last week. And I don't-"
"You don't own me any explanations, Elliot." Her distance still her closest friend.
"No. Yes I do." He states with just a bit too much rigidity in his voice, but he needs her to know. He needs her to listen. The urgency laced through his voice has her face snapping up to meet his. He has her attention now.
"There's only one woman I've ever given a damn about who wasn't my wife, my daughters, or my mother." He refuses to look anywhere else but into her eyes. He decides right here in this moment to risk it all. This woman who changed his life the moment he met her, who taught him what true, devastatingly true, love looks like. She's adorable in her uncertain jealousy wrapped in expensive fabric but for as long as he lives, he will never be a source of doubt for her again. He steps right into her personal space. Bringing the card up to his mouth, he rips it in half with his teeth and tosses the torn-up paper carelessly behind him.
"Come on, Liv. Hang out with me." She's smirking up at him now and he knows he's got her.
"Fine." She lifts her glass up to cheers with him, "But only because you're wearing Italian wool. Italy turned you into a fashionista, El." He clinks his glass against hers and limits the space between them down to only a couple inches. He can see the moment she physically relents, when she offers him an elusively sweet smile and lets out a heavy sigh before she continues teasing him. "And a coffee snob. You know? Italy turned you into a diva, Elliot."
"Says the woman who I know is wearing at least 500-dollar heels and… oh," he leans down a bit and gestures to her diamond earrings with mockery. "How many carats are those diamonds, captain?"
She's rolling her eyes, but her chest and shoulders bounce slightly with a genuine laugh and he loves her. He'll fill her life with fine French La Madeline au Truffe chocolates and rare diamond delicacies. He'll wrap her in the finest silks and the warmest of cashmeres. He'll feed her the city's richest foods and gourmet home-made meals. He'll show her the world. Pampering Olivia will bring him a type of peaceful joy he's not yet known and there is no one more deserving than the unbelievable woman before him. He'll help her balance out the soul-sucking darkness of trauma and abandonment with beautiful delicacies. After everything they've gone through, together and apart, they've earned it.
