Summary: After the S23/S2 finales Olivia and Elliot work to define what kind of "friends" they are.
Just a soft and fluffy piece about how EO work through the simple, but changing boundaries of their friendship as they push to be something more.
AN: I've seen this "friends do this" trend done in other friends to lovers ships when they are both ready, but unsure how they transition to lovers. This is my take on EO. I hope you enjoy.
I keep bouncing between my WIPs, so I hope by posting the first chapter that I'll be pressured to work on this multi-chapter story as opposed to the smutty one-shots I'm so partial to. I apologize in advance if it takes a while to update and I'm grateful for your patience.
As always, I have no beta, so be kind concerning small mistakes.
Thank you for reading and please comment, favorite, and follow if you enjoyed.
It had been six weeks since Elliot received his Combat Cross.
And six weeks since Olivia made the choice not to attend the ceremony.
She knew it was wrong. No. That's not quite accurate. She felt conflicted about it, both guilty and self-righteous. But Elliot hadn't even told her about the award. It was Sergeant Bell who mentioned it at an interdepartmental meeting about the take-down of the Brotherhood.
"And I'm proud to announce that our very own First Grade Detective Elliot Stabler will be awarded the Police Combat Cross for his heroism in bringing down a gang of rogue detectives within our ranks, at an extreme risk to his own life," Ayanna announced at the conclusion of her briefing on the death of Frank Donnelly at One Police Plaza last week.
And it wasn't Elliot who invited her to the ceremony. It was Cragen, who came into town and asked Olivia to attend the ceremony over a quick lunch.
"Olivia, you have to be there. For him, for Elliot," Cragen emphasized her former partner's name in an effort to pressure her into attending the ceremony.
"I know who it's for Captain," Olivia scoffs but not meeting his eye, "But if it was so important to Elliot, then he could invite me himself."
Cragen sips at his tea. "He won't do that. You know that, and I know that."
"He should, if he wants me there, then he would have invited me."
"He doesn't want this award. So, he's not going to be the one to invite you, but you know that he would appreciate it if you were there."
She understood exactly what her former Captain was saying. Olivia never wanted her combat cross. She would give up almost everything to her name to have never received that cross, to have earned the cross. But, that's life and it happened, and she survived. Though, if Elliot had been around then…Nope, not going there. She'd spend hours, days in that "What if," and she's not going back.
But six weeks ago, Elliot received his Combat Cross and she wasn't there. She remembered standing in her kitchen, leaning back against her counter when she looked at her phone and knew, just knew, that moment Elliot was honored, and her stomach dropped, knowing she should have been there. She shook off the feeling and finished making dinner for her and Noah.
A couple hours later, he texted her.
E: Can I call you?
O: Not now. I'm eating dinner with Noah.
E: When?
O: After 10:30.
Noah's bed time was 9:30. Well, he was to go to bed at 9:00 and had 30 minutes to read or watch TV. But his light had to be out by 9:30. Most nights, it took him about another 10-15 minutes before she could guarantee that he was actually asleep. That usually gave her enough time to relax: take a bath or shower, drink wine, listen to music, or catch up on a show before she needed to get to sleep.
That night, however, she'd need enough time to decompress before she talked to Elliot. She wasn't sure if he'd be angry or emotional, or, as she feared, that he'd tell her about yet another intense undercover gig. Maybe she should have told him 11:30, 45 minutes might not be enough time to prepare.
E: Okay. I'll call you then.
She double checked that Noah was asleep – his little snore reassured her – she poured herself a glass of wine and flipped through Netflix's Top 10 for that day. Nothing looked good enough to start. It could be that they were all terrible, but more likely, she was just too anxious for Elliot's call.
She gave up on the TV, grabbed her glass, and headed to her room. She'd try to read a chapter of this month's bedtime book on her bedside table.
She re-reads the same sentence until her phone rings. It's 10:32.
"Hello?" She answered. She knew it was him, a picture of his face, still with a beard, popped up on her screen.
"Hey, you," he replies softly.
"Hey…"
"I missed you today."
"You didn't ask me to come," she responds, an edge to her voice.
He sighs, resigned, and admits, "Yea, I know. I should have."
"Yes, you should have." It feels good to say it, but it was even better to have him admit it. They take a deep breath together, always in sync.
"So, how are you doing, Liv?"
That night was the start of regular late-night phone calls. That first call lasted just over thirty minutes and would have lasted longer but Olivia yawned one too many times and Elliot told her to "go to sleep, we will talk again soon."
"Good night, El."
"G'night, Liv. Sweet dreams."
That was six weeks ago. And since then, they had more evening calls than they could count. It started slow. A week passed between the first one and the second one. Elliot initiated the second call by texting her again.
E: Can I call you tonight? After 10:30?
Still at work and not really paying attention, Olivia just replied with a simple: Yes
E: Talk to you then.
But by 10:15, she'd once again double-checked that Noah was asleep and tucked herself into bed, wearing her comfy summer pajamas and with a glass of red wine on her nightstand. She didn't even try to distract herself with a book this time. Though, instead of dread, she finds herself excited to talk to him again.
That night they talked for nearly an hour, stopping only because Elliot heard his mother get out of bed.
"Hang on a second, Liv," he'd told her, not ready to end their call, but he thought he heard the oven beep and he needed to make sure his mother wasn't baking cookies or something else equally ridiculous at 11:30 at night.
"It's okay, El. It's getting late. We will talk again soon."
"Yea, okay," he sighed, and she could hear disappointment in his voice for a split second before he said sweetly, "Good night. Sweet dreams."
"G'night, El."
After that, their calls became more frequent. Happening two times a week, then three, then every other night. They'd talk about nothing and everything. Elliot would ask about Noah and Olivia asked about all of his kids and grandkids. They tried, and failed, not to discuss work and cases. Their talks were comforting, like wearing an old worn sweater on an early autumn evening. It felt like old times. But neither of them was brave enough to put a label on it.
Until tonight.
Tonight, they'd been on the phone for over an hour. Elliot had confided in her about Eli's new attitude and the difficulties parenting his emotional and still-traumatized-but-in-denial teenage son, while also balancing caring for his aging mother.
"I feel so bad for asking so much of Kathleen and Maureen last year."
"El, you didn't know, and you are doing everything you can now. That's what matters."
"Yea, but Kathleen was a saint, you know? Coming over all the time and just making sure everything was good with Ma. And Maureen, she and Carl had Eli over so often and they have two young kids of their own. I just had no idea how hard this was on them."
"You've done these four times before, you didn't realize how hard it was to raise a hormonal and moody teen?"
"That was more than 10 years ago, and the other kids were around, so just much has changed since then."
Elliot also knew that back then Kathy beared more than her fair share of the child-rearing burdens when Elliot was working at SVU. But he was still hesitant to discuss Kathy and his grief with Olivia. He knew she'd listen and be compassionate and understanding, but he also knew that Olivia saw Kathy in a new, and not quite as kind, light after his drug-induced reveal about the letter. And he didn't want to cloud this re-blooming friendship with Olivia by taking her back to that moment, which he learned was scary for her.
"And you've gotten older. You can't quite keep up with them anymore," Olivia teases.
"Hey!" Elliot responds with a small laugh, "You aren't that much younger than I am. Just you wait, Noah's only 10. His tough teen years are still ahead."
"Hush! Don't you say that," she scolds him mockingly, joining in with his soft laughter.
"Sorry, sorry," he chuckles.
"I know," she says, but he can hear the stress creeping into her voice, "but you aren't wrong, and I just…" she trails off and takes a deep breath.
"What is it?"
"Uh, I don't know if I can share. It's something personal, and Noah might not want me to tell others. Though he's already told his friends, so maybe…" she trails off again, the last sentence spoken to herself.
Elliot doesn't want to intrude on her life with Noah, but he's confident that over these last few weeks that he's regained her trust and she knows that he'd never do anything to harm her or her son. And he wants to show her that he can be just as supportive as she has been. That he can stand next to her, support her, share the weight she's carrying.
"Just tell me, Liv. You know I can keep it a secret and it seems to be weighing on you. It will feel good to just let it out."
She chews on her lip, contemplating whether she should tell. But, she needed a friend here. Someone who was also a parent and would understand her fears. She could talk to Rollins, but for some reason, she wanted Elliot's advice, reassurance, comfort.
He can hear her resignation in her sigh. "Noah…uh, Noah's bisexual."
"Oh." Elliot's surprised, he's not sure what he expected her to say, but that wasn't it.
"Yea, and I'm just…he's my sweet little boy and I'm so afraid that the world will be cruel to him, crush his spirit."
"Liv…uh, when did he tell you this?" He fumbles over the question, he's not quite sure what to say, and he needs some time to think. Not that this revelation matters to him, in how he sees Noah, or how he sees Olivia. But he knows that this is still a sensitive topic because it may change the way the world sees Noah, how the world treats him, and means he will have different struggles. He wants to think through how to reassure Olivia that he will still love her son just the same and that Noah will still have a great life.
"A few months ago, right after the holidays. I was just so proud of him, El. He told me that he had been standing up for one of his friends who had announced their use of they/them pronouns and that the bully turned on him for standing up. So, Noah…he just told him…told his bully, straight to his face, that he was bi and that there was no shame in being true to yourself. A feather could have knocked me over."
He can hear the pride in her voice. He understood that feeling, pride in your child for being brave and empathetic, for doing what was right even if it was hard.
"It sounds to me that Noah isn't a kid that's going to be crushed by the world. He was incredibly brave, facing a bully and being vulnerable. And, Liv, it's really good that he trusts you and feels safe enough to share that with you."
"He just said it so calmly, and then he asked to get dinner, like it was nothing."
"That's because it is nothing, well not nothing…it's something, uh...but you know what I mean. It's nothing bad and it changes nothing with his relationship with you."
"I know what you mean, El. I was just so proud of him, my heart just felt so full, and then my stomach dropped. I was also so scared."
Elliot sits up straighter in his bed. He'd been slouching against the headboard, with his phone resting on his stomach. But even across the city, in separate boroughs, he could feel her tensions and fear and wanted to rush to her side. "That's because you are his mother, Liv. And you are a great mother. This won't be anything you can't handle or anything that Noah can't handle. You've raised him to be strong and smart and kind. He will be just fine."
"I still worry for him. Even though this younger generation gives me hope, I am still so afraid for him. You know what we've seen at our job. Some people are still just so full of hate."
"That feeling will never go away," he tells her. Though, she already knows this. Her life with Noah has been full of fear. Fear about his health, his grandmother, the perverts on the street, injuries at dance, and so much in between. "No matter what, we are always afraid for our kids. But the times are changing, Liv."
"I know. But how can I keep him safe? How can I make the world see him as the same sweet boy that I see?" She knows that she's asking for the impossible; it's the unreasonable request that every parent asks themselves.
Elliot laughs to himself at her questions, recalling all the trouble with his kids. Each time – with Kathleen, Dickie, and now Eli – she'd been the one to rescue him. "I'm not sure you are asking the right person. I can't even count how many times I messed up with my kids. And hell, you've been there for each fall out."
"Your kids are great El, you know that. They are all grown and are just wonderful people. And I know Eli is struggling now, but he's strong too. He will be just fine."
"And so will Noah. You just keep doing what you are doing. You just love him and support him, and he will grow up to be a great person. The world will have no choice but to think so."
A silence comes over them. Elliot slouches back down, laying all the way down now, one hand tossed above his head and the other playing with the drawstring on his pants. His phone is resting on his belly again.
Olivia looks around her room, seeing the pictures of her and Noah scattered on her dresser. She looks over at her nightstand and recalls how years ago, when she lived in her old apartment, she used to have a picture of her and Elliot on her nightstand. She's trying to remember if she still has a framed photo of them in her storage unit in the basement.
Elliot coughs, trying to break the quiet. He knows that they probably have to hang up soon, it's getting late. But he doesn't want to end on such a serious note. "Uh, whatcha wearing?"
She laughs, a deep laugh rumbling from her belly and through her entire body. He smiles to himself, happy that he broke the tension and that she's not yelling at him. "Really, El?"
"What?"
"I don't think we are that kind of friends."
"And what kind of friends would that be?" He prompts, curious about her definitions of types of friends and which category they fell into.
"The kind that describe their pajamas on the phone to each other."
"So, you're wearing pajamas, eh?" He teases. If they were in person, she'd see the way his eyebrows wiggled and the ornery grin that breaks across his lips.
"El!"
"Sorry…so uh, what kind of friends are we?"
"What do you mean?"
"This, you and me," he says more seriously, he wants an honest answer here. He wants her to tell him what kind of friends they are and aren't. He wants to know how she sees them. "We are talking on the phone most nights and many times over an hour."
"Don't friends talk on the phone?"
"So, we are 'talk on the phone' kind of friends, but not 'talk about our pajamas' kind of friends?"
"For now," he can hear her grin over the phone, "Good night, El."
"Sweet dreams, Olivia."