Summary: Elliot and Olivia continue testing the boundaries of their friendship.

"You go sit," Elliot points at a small table in the corner of the coffee shop's patio, "and I'll get our drinks. You want your usual?"

"Yes, aaaaannnnnnd –" Olivia looks through the windows and at the display next to the register, "will you split a chocolate chip cookie with me?" She asks as if the cookie wasn't part of her usual order.

"Yup."

Olivia watches him walk away into the store and get in line behind a mother with two little kids. A young boy, maybe 3 years old, looks a little frightened by Elliot, but Elliot just smiles goofily and waves, and the little boy gives him a toothy grin in return.

This is the third time they've done this, had an afternoon coffee date.

Over the last few weeks, they'd continued their evening chats. Elliot still calls her, he's traditional that way, but now he calls almost every evening between 10:30 and 10:45 p.m. Sometimes they were too tired to talk, so he'll call just to say "I just wanted to hear your voice Benson," or "I hope tomorrow is better." It doesn't really matter what he says, every time her phone rings and she sees his face on her screen, her heart flutters.

Most nights they'd talk for at least half an hour. Usually it's a debrief of their day, sharing their frustrations and joys. Elliot tries to ask more personal questions in an effort to get to know Olivia as she is now, a decade older, wiser, and more experienced than before. And sometimes he dares to be borderline flirty, though he has not inquired about her sleepwear again.

Most of the time Olivia feels good enough to share her day with him and on occasion she entertains his new tone. But sometimes their conversation falls flat, she'll deflect his questions, or the moment turns awkward. It generally happens when Olivia's anxieties about them pop up. And when it happens, it sets their conversations back. As if Elliot is afraid to push, so he retreats to safe topics and does not try again for a few days. He always tries again. She's thankful fo rhis persistence.

Olivia knew that she was running somewhat hot and cold on Elliot, leaning into his flirty banter one moment and then pulling back the next. She knows that she's not making it easy on him, and she didn't quite know how to change it.

She was trying though.

Unbeknownst to Elliot, she'd been talking to Dr. Lindstrom about their evolving friendship. She was trying to work past those fears and really allow herself to want and go after what she wanted and what she deserved. Him.

A couple months ago, Dr. Lindstrom had told her what he thought about her relationship with Elliot: "I think that you and Elliot either need to see whether there's more there or move on." He believed that she had "idealized" her relationship with him and that "prevented her from experiencing true intimacy with him or anyone else."

After self-reflection, she'd concluded that Dr. Lindstrom was correct. But Olivia had no idea how to actually get them there—in a relationship beyond friendship. She knew that she needed to just open up to him and follow his lead when he offered more to her or even take more when she wanted it.

That was easier said than done, however.

She figured these phone calls were a good start. They had really caught up and talked about most things, including many of the big things that needed to be said. He'd talked about some of his work in Rome, his life with Eli and reconnecting with his mother and older children, and becoming a grandfather. She'd shared about her rise to Captain, her new partners and squad, about her four days in hell, and subsequent kidnapping. Maybe it would have been better to talk about those topics, especially the horrific ones, in person, but they'd found that the little bit of anonymity offered by the phone allowed them to share more, to be more vulnerable.

There were still a few things to discuss: her past relationships, his decision to leave her. But they were okay waiting to approach those subjects until they could look each other in the eye.

And despite their increased emotional vulnerability, phone calls were not the best medium for pushing other types of boundaries, physical ones. And as timid as she was, she'd always been more comfortable in her physicality than bearing her soul to someone. Even when that someone was Elliot.

But a couple weeks ago – not long after Elliot's hiccup with the pajama question and her for now response, Elliot asked her out for coffee. Olivia was certain that he actually wanted to ask her out on a date but chickened out last minute. She couldn't blame him, though. She'd replayed the conversation a few times and she realized that she gave him confusing and inconsistent cues that night. Of course she wanted to go out with him, but she was terrified of making that leap. She was more comfortable with this slow trudge they'd silently agreed on. And each time he'd try to allude to dating, she fell backwards and felt the urge to deflect and protect herself.

That night Elliot had asked about her favorite restaurant and favorite wine, whether those had changed in the last ten years. Of course they had. Then he'd asked her when she's last been on a first date. She wouldn't give him an exact date; it's been too long since she'd been on an actual date. He followed with, "How'd that go for you?"

"How did that go for me?" she repeated questioningly.

"Yea. Uh…I just meant…was it a nice date?" He knew asking what he actually wanted to ask – Are you seeing him? Did you sleep with him? Have you been with anyone since I've been back? – would probably be a step too far, it could drive a wedge. And, he knew it wasn't a fair inquiry. He'd been back for over a year. His wife had been dead for over a year. And he'd had relations with other women. He couldn't reasonably expect that she didn't also have a man or men in her life during the same time. Regardless of how fair it was, he still wanted to know.

As always, she read him like an open book. "What are you really asking, El? Do you want to know how the date ended?"

He did, but he didn't want to upset her. "No, no, I just …uh, I wanted to know if you had a good time…uh, enjoyed yourself and the, uh, company." He hated when she did this, put him on the defensive, even when he deserved it.

"Uh huh," she challenged, but then gave him the information he really wanted, "That date was fine. The food and wine were great, and the conversation was smooth. And, if you must know, he was a perfect gentleman. That date ended with a kiss on the cheek."

With that answer he felt as if he was back on steady ground, he couldn't help but push a little more. "Was there a second date?"

She paused for a second before asking a question in return. "Do you want to know my dating history, detective?"

She felt his smirk through the phone. "Maybe, Captain. Maybe I need to know if I have any competition."

Her stomach dropped. Teasing and getting jealous about her dates was one thing. It was familiar, safe, a cast back to their prior friendship. Hinting that he wants a date was new. Okay, it wasn't really new. They'd been dancing around this for weeks, him much more overtly than her. And even though she's been considering this possibility for weeks and months (who was she kidding, she'd been considering it for years?), it still terrified her.

He heard a quiet inhale and was desperate to fix the situation. He feared that he may have crossed a line, "Liv, I…"

She looked down at her fingers, which were playing with the edge of her pajama top. As terrified as she was, Olivia did want him to know that she's not dating anyone, she wasn't committed to anyone else. "I'm not dating anyone right now, if that's what you wanted to know."

"That is what I wanted to know."

"And you?" she asked quietly, almost as if she was afraid of the answer.

"I'm not dating anyone either," he answered directly. Elliot wished they were having this conversation in person. He wanted to look her in the eyes when he told her that he wasn't seeing anyone, that he wasn't going to see anyone but her.

They were quiet, intending to only let the conversation lag for a second while they thought about what the other had shared. But the silence had stretched to an uncomfortable length. He was trying to summon the courage to just ask "Will you go out to dinner with me?" It was on the tip of his tongue, but it felt as if someone glued his lips together. And she was trying to keep her heart in her chest and her panic from rising while waiting for him to ask.

"El–"

"Do you—"

"Sorry."

"Sorry."

"You go first El," Olivia instructed. She wanted to know what he was going to ask.

"Do you want to get coffee tomorrow afternoon?"

She'd let out a breath and her shoulders relaxed. It's not exactly a date, but it felt good. It felt safer than a date. Coffee could be platonic, and it could be more. And she could wait until they are there to decide.

Ping-ponging between her anxiety about them, and her desire to move the ball on their relationship, she tried to be coy. "Are we 'getting coffee together' kind of friends?"

For now. Is what he wanted to say. But honestly, he was confused by her words. She'd nearly jumped out of her skin when he hinted about other "competition," but now she was almost teasing him.

He ignored her question and just forged ahead, "What do you say? Tomorrow at 2 o'clock. There is a small, local coffee shop that is about a five-minute walk from the 1-6."

"Sure. See you then. I need to get some sleep now." She turned and saw the red numbers on her alarm reading 11:54 p.m.

"Sweet dreams, Liv."

"Night." She tossed her phone aside on the bed before bringing them to cover her face.

Elliot interrupts her thoughts when he returns to their small patio table with their coffees – double shot of espresso for him and a large iced coffee for her – and a big, soft chocolate chip cookie.

They settle into their new, but comfortable coffee routine. He splits the cookie in half, and then breaks his half into half again, knowing that she'll eat hers, he'll eat part of his, and then halfway through their conversation, he'll push the plate towards her and offer the rest of his half of the cookie to her.

She asks about his work and Elliot tells her about the new case he's on and then gets sidetracked talking about how impressive Jet has been. How she is really stepping out of her "techy girl" persona – "Woman," Olivia corrects him – to be a solid, on the streets detective.

Just as Olivia brings the last bite of her half of the cookie to lips, Elliot changes the topic. "I have something I've been wanting to ask you, but I'm afraid that I'd upset you."

"So, you want to risk ruining this beautiful afternoon?" She asks with a laugh, and he gives her a cocky grin. "What is it?" she mumbles, around the crumbling cookie.

"Last Christmas, when we were waiting to hear from Eli's doctor, you'd mentioned that you'd almost settled down with a man named 'Ed,' but that he died." Elliot had been sitting on this topic for a while. He wanted to ask her about the illusive 'Ed' in person but had not actually had the guts to do it. That was until last week when he finally realized it was Tucker.

She swallows the cookie and washes it down before answering. "I did," she nods, not excited to have this conversation today, though, she's surprised that it's taken him this long to bring it up. "After you'd asked me 'about how many?'"

"Not my finest moment," Elliot admits, ducking his head. It was the closest thing to an apology for his brutish behavior Olivia would probably get from him. But given his extreme emotional state that day, she'd already forgiven him.

"No, it definitely wasn't," Olivia agrees, "What do you want to ask?"

"Well, Ed was Ed Tucker, right?"

She inhales deeply through her nose, preparing herself for this conversation, "Yes, it was. How did you know?"

Elliot shrugs, "I just put two and two together."

She eyes him incredulously.

"Hey," he puts his hands up, "I kept coming up with five for a while, and then it just hit me. Fin confirmed it."

"Damnit Fin," she mutters.

"Don't be mad at Fin. He didn't want to share. It took a bit to get it out of him."

"A bit?"

"Let's just say, he and Phoebe are going to be having a really nice date next week. New spot on 5th. I had to call in several favors, all of my favors, to get them on the list and agree to pay for their drinks."

Olivia laughs at that. Fin may be extremely loyal, and she'd trust him with her life, with Noah's life, but he was known to take a friendly bribe here and there. Really though, Fin didn't tell Elliot anything. Her relationship with Ed wasn't a secret, and it sounds like Elliot had already figured it out. She's glad he confirmed it with Fin rather than someone else. Olivia knows that not everyone had a positive view of her relationship with Ed.

"How mad were you?"

Elliot's quick to answer, "I wasn't."

She eyes him again, one eyebrow lifts.

"I wasn't mad. Surprised, for sure."

"You and me both."

"I guess…I just want to know how that happened. I mean, when I left, he was a huge thorn in our side. I thought you hated him."

Her eyes drop to the plate between them, eying the remaining quarter of a cookie – his remaining quarter of the cookie.

"Oh, I did. Well, hate might be too strong, but I definitely didn't like him," she pauses and tries to think how best to explain her and Ed's relationship. How they'd gone from sworn enemies to lovers; how he'd become a man that she'd trusted with her son, her own heart, a man she'd consider settling down with.

Elliot lets her take the time to get the words, twisting and turning the tiny espresso mug on its plate.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I can't pinpoint the moment he stopped being just an IAB rat. I think it was sometime when I was a Lieutenant. I mean, he was up my ass all the time investigating my squad. But he'd changed, somehow and I'd changed. And we were no longer adversaries and more like, I'm not sure…friends seems wrong, but I don't have a better word."

"I know what you mean," he says softly, nodding. He's pushing down all his anger and jealousy that he has so he can let her explain, so he can understand.

"He was the one that recommended me to 1PP as Lieutenant," she adds, as if she's trying to sway Elliot to believe her, to believe that Ed wasn't a bad man.

"I didn't know that."

"After I was promoted, we just grew closer and closer. We'd get drinks here and there, and then it was dinner, and then," she hesitates, not sure how detailed she wanted to be, "I don't know. We were just together."

Elliot's glad that she's speaking generally. He's doing a good job holding it together, keeping a neutral face, but he's still a jealous man and Ed is still Tucker. Thinking about Tucker being the man to comfort her, hold her hand, kiss her and more made his stomach churn.

She sighs, not ready to share another traumatizing moment of the last 10 years, but it feels necessary to her and Ed's story. "In early 2016, I was held hostage in a townhome."

"Liv…" he reaches out and grabs her hand, wrapping his warm palm about the back of her hand, his fingers holding her securely. Somehow, during their calls, during the moments they'd really shared, she hadn't told him about the townhouse. Probably because it was so wrapped up in Ed that she'd been afraid to bring it up. Regardless, she was going to talk about it now.

"It was a terrible day, just everything about it. But guy, there was a group of idiots, but the lead guy, he asked me to call…well to call someone at the NYPD who cared if I lived or died. And the only person I could think about was Ed."

This breaks Elliot's heart and spikes his anger. He didn't have a right to be angry, at least not at anyone other than himself. He wanted to be the one…he was the one who cared, he'd always cared. But at that time, he was gone. And had no one else to blame but himself. This was just another thing to add to the list of things he would feel guilty about until the end of time.

"I'm surprised you didn't call Fin," he tells her quietly.

"Fin has my back and does care about me, but this was different. Ed…Ed cared in a different way. And he helped save me that day. He did everything he could to get me out of that house alive, to get me back home to Noah."

"I'm glad that you had someone," he squeezes her hand, "And I'm sorry he died." Elliot had learned independently that Tucker had died by suicide and the surrounding circumstances a while back. So, he didn't need her to explain.

"Me too," Olivia whispers, unshed tears filling her eyes.

He squeezes her hand again, then turns it over so their palms could touch, his fingers tickling her palm.

"I'm also sorry that I was an asshole last Christmas."

She snorts at that and uses her free hand to blot at the corner of her eyes with a napkin. "Eh, you are an asshole most of the time, I'm used to it."

The edge of his lips curled up, then he pushed the plate towards her. "Here."

She gives him a soft smile and takes his remaining cookie quarter, "This doesn't make up for the fact that you are an asshole most of the time."

"Oh, I know."

A few minutes later they decided to call it an afternoon. Olivia had to pick up Noah in half an hour and if she left now, she might catch the last 5 minutes of his routine. He loved it when she came early to his practices.

Elliot stood up and pulled out her chair.

"Such a gentleman," she teases.

"Always am," he retorts.

Elliot ushers her through the small tables and chairs with a hand pressed lightly on her lower back. She can feel the warmth of his hand pressing through her thin shirt. Her heart beats a little faster and she wants him to flatten his hand completely against her back. But once they make it to the sidewalk, he reaches for her hand.

He holds his breath for what feels like ages, waiting on her to accept his hand. It only takes a split second, though it feels like several minutes, for her to thread her fingers through his, allowing him to exhale.

They walk like that, hand in hand, the two blocks to her car – his car is three blocks in the opposite direction, but he doesn't care, not when their palms are pressed together, and her fingers are interlocked with his.

Olivia looks down at their hands when they get to her car, and then lifts them slightly when she looks back up to Elliot. "So apparently we are friends who hold hands now?"

"I think we are, if that's okay."

"It's okay with me."

He feels like skipping all the way back to his car.