Back to Good

by Jessa4865

Miscommunication and inner demons conspire to make things not work out like they should. (title borrowed from Matchbox Twenty's song of the same name)

Back to Good
Fleeterberry
Spoilers: Starts somewhere vaguely in the late Brotherhood arc and touches on slight spoilers for Gimme Shelter Parts 1 and 2, but spins off on its own prior to part 3
Disclaimer: I don't own them

***Trigger warning for assault***

"Come on try a little
Nothing is forever
There's got to be something better than in the middle"
-The Wallflowers, One Headlight

1

It's a minor miracle, she thinks, as she watches their dinner cooking in the oven. She's home from work before the sun is down. Noah is sitting on the couch doing his homework and she's able to make her son a meal and see him before he's in bed for probably the first time in a month. While she appreciates Lucy's help and Noah's acceptance of her busy schedule, it's still nice to surprise everyone by arriving home from work on time, dispatching the nanny, and having enough energy to cook. She's staring at the freezer contents and trying to decide if she should make Noah eat some veggies with dinner or if she can rationalize treating them both to tater tots because she likes to spoil him when she can.

"Hey, mom, it's your phone." Noah comes into the kitchen carrying the device she'd left on the coffee table and slides it onto the counter. "It keeps buzzing. Must be work."

With a sigh, she grabs a bag of carrots and figures she should save the treat for a night she'll be able to enjoy it too. She looks at the line of texts, six of them, all from Elliot's burner cell, requesting her presence at some restaurant, and she initially bristles because she's never agreed to a date and so it's not fair of him to assume that she'll just drop everything and show up, and then she reads the rest of the notes which inform her that it's not a date and it's Donnelly and the guys and Elliot says he understands if she can't make it and what it doesn't say that she understands anyway is that this is work as Noah had assumed.

The fact that he's sent her six texts in ten minutes means something and whatever it is, he doesn't feel comfortable putting it in writing and that worries her so she thanks Noah for bringing it to her attention and calls Elliot.

He picks up on the first ring. "Hey, hold on a minute." She can hear voices in the background and him excusing himself and the whine of hinges and then it's quiet, both the background noise and his voice. "I'm really sorry about this, Liv. Do you think you can make it?"

Her mind is reeling, trying to process both his words and his tone and she's certain there's something going on and he's not sure it's safe to say. "Am I on speaker?" She knows she's not, but it's a signal. She's reading between the lines and she's offering to attempt to lead this conversation through a limitless list of options until Elliot feels safe enough to confirm them.

"No, no speaker, it's just," she hears voices and she can practically see the way he's turning around to make sure it's not someone he needs to worry about. "Donnelly misinterpreted our relationship and I never corrected him and everyone else has a date coming."

Olivia sighs, she'd gotten that impression too from the shit-eating grin Donnelly had offered her before he walked away the last time she'd seen him. And that means she's going to have to join Elliot in this undercover stint as his girlfriend, fuck, and she sighs again. "Shit, El, really?"

"It's ok, I said I'd ask. I told him I didn't think you'd be able to make it." He's telling her one thing, but his voice is saying something else entirely.

"Are you in trouble?" Her heart is racing and her hands are sweating and she's scared to death that Elliot's cover is blown.

"Not the kind you're thinking." He lowers his voice enough that she has to remain perfectly still to hear him. "Lots of mistrust here, so anything I've let them believe that doesn't come with proof is just-"

She understands what he's saying. He needs to back up something he's said, or at least didn't deny, or they're going to assume it's all lies and then he'll be in danger. He's giving her a choice, but it's a shit choice - pretend to be his girlfriend or be the reason his life is in jeopardy. "I have to get a sitter, but I'll be there as soon as I can. Send me the address."

She can hear the hinges and the noise pick up again. "I know you're mad, I get it. I'm sorry."

She disconnects the phone and takes a deep breath. His last words weren't only for her. They were meant for the audience as well as to clue her in that they're supposed to be fighting and that worries her because she really doesn't want to fight with him anymore, not even as a pretense, not with some part of her that's still waiting for him to disappear again.

She has to beg Lucy to turn around before the woman even gets all the way home and then cajole Noah into eating dinner by himself because she doesn't have time to join him and Lucy won't be there for a while. And then she's staring at her closet, trying to figure out what to wear. According to Google, the restaurant looks like it's pretty much a dive bar and therefore none of her normal clothing will look right because she doesn't eat at places with plastic tablecloths anymore, but there's certainly no time to run out and buy something. She settles on jeans, a sweater, and boots, because she has nothing that won't stick out and so she's going to have to go with comfort. Certainly everyone, the Brotherhood at least, will know who she is and will be expecting attire befitting a captain.

She's trying to curl her hair and reapply her makeup at the same time and she's getting nervous because Elliot is closer to trouble with every minute that passes and she knows he'll respond in character, as the hotheaded angry cop, to any insults thrown his way and she really doesn't want to be dragging him out of a busted up restaurant with a black eye and broken ribs. Luckily, she hears Lucy arriving just as she's finished putting on her lipstick and with a kiss to Noah's head and a sincere thank you to Lucy, she's off to meet Elliot.

The amount of smoke surprises her as she walks through the door. She remembers her younger days when all bars were smoky, but she doesn't remember it being so damn thick that her eyes watered. She's barely able to clear her throat before she hears her name, Elliot's voice a little too loud calling her, and she wonders how many drinks he's already had as she looks at her watch and sees it's not even eight yet. This is going to be a long night.

Her instinct is to smile back when she sees his face, but she remembers his warning, and she knows his excuse for trying to not involve her was likely telling everyone they were fighting. She presses her lips into a thin line and approaches the table, allowing her dislike for the Brotherhood to reflect the appropriate level of irritation in her expression.

"Pull up a chair." He's standing up and grabbing an extra chair from a nearby table and clumsily pulling it up to her legs and as she's sitting down awkwardly, she's trying to count the number of empty shot glasses and beer bottles already littering the table. "Are you hungry? We can share." And then he's sliding his spaghetti in front of her and she doesn't want to eat it, but she's starving and everyone else is eating and so she just nods and takes his fork and pretends that she's completely comfortable with the way Elliot slips his arm over the back of her chair.

Barely a second later, one of the guys across the table shoves his chair back and pulls Donnelly from his seat. Olivia sees the way Elliot rolls his eyes and she recognizes his carefully practiced disinterest and so she ignores the commotion and takes a sip out of his beer. She's trying to listen to the conversation the same as Elliot, but all she picks up is the guy's anger and her rank. Donnelly sounds irritated as he responds, but again, she can't hear anything. It's only another minute before they're back at the table, the irritated guy pounding back his drink while Donnelly laughs it off.

"Apologies for the rude motherfucker, Captain Benson." Donnelly lifts his beer and winks at her.

She tries to not hear the weird silence that falls over the table at her name and she realizes most of these people really had no idea who she was besides Elliot's girlfriend and that the argument was over giving everyone a warning that a captain was in their presence. She shakes her head at Donnelly and pretends the stares don't bother her. "It's Liv, please. I'm not working tonight." She picks up Elliot's beer again and drains it as though to drive home her point.

After Elliot introduces the rest of the Brotherhood, she can put a name to the guy staring at her, Parnell, and honestly Olivia can't tell who he seems to hate more - Elliot is getting his share of unhappy glares from the man as well. Everyone is nearly done with dinner and so she makes a show of picking at what's left on Elliot's plate, as though she's disappointed. The conversations resume, but she knows Parnell and Donnelly are still watching her and she turns to stage whisper a complaint about him promising her dinner.

He shrugs. "Should have been here on time if you wanted dinner." And then he's turning away to request another round of drinks for the table and ignoring her.

So it's Donnelly who picks up the conversation. "What the hell took you so long?"

She hears Parnell mutter about how she probably needed to check in with IAB and she rolls her eyes at him and answers Donnelly. "I had to find a sitter."

Donnelly looks surprised. "You have a kid?"

She can see it right there, the Old Boys Club shit, and she knows he knows she's not married and he probably thinks she should be a stay at home mom, like his wife is, as opposed to the woman Elliot introduced as Donnelly's friend who is damn near sitting in his lap. She nods, unable to help the smile the thought of Noah always elicits. "I do. Noah just turned nine."

Donnelly leans back from the table and shakes his head. "I just can't imagine Badass Benson being soft enough to have a kid."

She sees the challenge in his eyes and she realizes it's not about her reputation for being a hardass bitch, but that he's questioning everything related to Elliot, including his date's excuse for being late. She's absolutely not going to be responsible for breaking Elliot's cover, not with all the trouble this case has already brought on him. She fishes out her phone and passes it to Carling on her right, who sees the lock screen image of her and Noah and has a good laugh before passing it to Donnelly.

And then Donnelly's laughing too and looking at Elliot with a smirk. "Damn, Elliot." His eyes turn back to her and they're much less nervous. "Looks just like his dad, doesn't he?"

She wants to deny it. She wants to point out that Elliot is not the only man in the world with blue eyes. She wants to tell Elliot to stop gouging a hole through her jeans with his grip on her side. Instead, she recognizes the opening here and she thinks it will help, if only to explain why they just seem to gravitate back into one another's orbit no matter what happens. "He certainly doesn't look like me."

She hopes she's not going to feel guilty later. She hopes this isn't going to be a thing with Elliot when he starts asking all the questions about Noah and Noah's real father and demands details she hasn't yet seen fit to give him. She hopes the idea that they have a kid together will help satisfy everyone's suspicions as to why Elliot dared to invite a captain into their midst who has a solid reputation for being clean.

"Guess I know why I'm not the best partner you ever had, huh?" Donnelly's grinning at Elliot again and Olivia can practically see the way he's salivating at the idea of having a way to get a Captain into their ranks. "How many kids you got, partner?"

Elliot's hand is still tight on her waist and she knows he's nervous and he's probably as afraid as she is of all the rumors that are going to spread following this shit. "Technically, five." His eyes move to Olivia's phone as it arrives back in her hands and she knows the smile on his face at the sight of her and Noah is absolutely real.

But Olivia swallows back her smile and frowns in his direction, reminding herself they're supposed to be fighting over something and denying her son at a table full of his friends would be enough to set most moms crazy. "Technically?"

Elliot doesn't get a chance to answer because Carling is jumping in. "Shit, Liv, you have to get a DNA test. Get some proof. Collect some child support from the bastard."

She shrugs and remembers why she's here and offers Carling a smile. "He's been better lately." And it's true because he has been better, more like himself, but the statement works because if his undercover persona had started taking cash when he joined the Brotherhood, she figures some of that money might have come her way for their son.

They're all distracted by the round of drinks and shots and her answers must have satisfied most of the audience because everyone has moved on from her after a few minutes. She turns to Elliot, trying to determine if she's really just here for dinner. She's a bit surprised at how close he is because somehow she'd forgotten about the arm that was on the back of her chair that dropped to her waist and has been wrapped around her ever since.

But she's supposed to be mad or irritated or something. "What's all this about?"

He shrugs, alcohol heavy on his breath, and motions around the table. "We're celebrating."

"And what are we celebrating again?"

She knows from the pause that whatever it is, it's not something good and not something the group cares to share with her because it's not something she'd celebrate and it's not something he really wants to be a part of either. He shrugs again with a half-hearted smirk and raises his glass. "Next month's child support."

His comment earns a chuckle from the group and she feels eyes on her again and when she turns, she sees Donnelly's eyes are taking in the possessive grip Elliot still has on her waist and she knows he's just trying to ground himself and he's been drinking and she also knows, if they're fighting, it doesn't make sense.

She pushes back from the table and shrugs off his arm with more force than necessary and announces she's going to get a decent drink. One of the other women, Bolton's girlfriend she thinks, joins her. It seems to be the impetus the group needs to officially end dinner and they all break up into smaller groups. Elliot joins the guys at the pool table and some of the women are dancing in such a way as to lure the guys away from the pool table and Olivia is trying not to drain her wine glass in two sips because she suspects she's Elliot's ride home since he's still drinking hard and he doesn't appear like he's about to leave.

The small talk is getting boring and she's wishing she were home with Noah and in lieu of that she'd rather actually be with Elliot, but he's still playing pool and she's wondering what the whole fucking point of this evening was until she sees Elliot start getting into it with Parnell and she's about to go over to intervene but Donnelly is suddenly in front of her.

"They're fine." Donnelly chuckles to himself, his eyes warning her to stay out of it before slowly making their way down her body. "They're just having a pissing contest."

She shrugs as though she isn't worried about Elliot getting in another fight. "Boys will be boys." She slides off her stool and excuses herself to the ladies room because she just doesn't want to be near Donnelly since everything about the man rubs her the wrong way and she really doesn't like the way he's suddenly much more interested in her since he's now seen "proof" that she and Elliot are sleeping together.

There's something about the way he's looking at her that makes her extremely uncomfortable and she's trying to fake a level of comfort that she absolutely doesn't feel and she can hear all of her warning bells going off and under any other circumstances, she'd be about to climb in an Uber and leave the whole situation behind her. But it's not any other situation and she's watched Elliot down two shots in the time it takes her to get from the bar to the dark alcove housing the bathrooms and so she knows she's not going anywhere and reminds herself it's not her job to worry about his liver.

She hides out in the ladies room for a minute, combs her fingers through the waves in her hair, reapplies her lipstick. She just needs a break from all the smoke and the loud music and then there's a shout and Elliot's answering shout and she hears glass breaking and she knows her reprieve is over, but hopefully that means they can leave soon.

She shoves through the door, her focus on getting Elliot out of whatever fight he's gotten into, and hopefully dragging him outside so they can get to the safety of her truck and not be in character anymore. There's someone in the hallway blocking her path and she tries to shrink against the wall so they can slide past, but it's not simply the narrow hallway that's causing the problem here. She barely has time to recognize Donnelly's smirk in the darkness when he's trapping her with his body, his hands bracing on the wall over her shoulders. The alcohol on his breath is nearly choking her and though her racing heart tells her she's wrong, she wants to believe this drunk, lying, cheating, manipulative bastard has simply lost his balance and fallen into her.

She tries to turn and push past, but one of his hands moves to her hip as he leans forward. She jerks her head to the side and Donnelly's mouth lands on her cheek rather than her lips as he'd intended and while she's thankful for small favors, she knows the night is going from bad to worse.

"Get off me, Donnelly." She shoves at him, but his hands are grabbing, his fingers digging into her body in a very different way than Elliot's had.

"Come on, loosen up, Benson." He grabs her ass then, as though pawing at her will somehow change her mind.

She doesn't think then, just reacts, because it doesn't seem that anyone is going to notice their absence until this assault gets a hell of a lot worse. Her knee jerks up, intent on causing him enough pain to give her an opportunity to get back to the bar. She doesn't get the chance to make contact though, Donnelly's body twisting away from her so suddenly she almost loses her balance without him pushing against her.

"I'll fucking kill you, Donnelly." Elliot's growl is almost inhuman, the pure venom in his tone and his face enough to scare her. She takes in the blood already dripping from his cut lip and she wants to argue that he doesn't need to have another fight with another one of his "brothers" tonight, but she can't help the part of her that desperately wants to see him pounding the living shit out of the bastard for touching her without permission.

But Donnelly's hands raise in surrender, a displeased snort coming from him. "Ok, ok, she's yours, I got it."

Elliot is shaking with unspent rage, his body coiled with tension, and Olivia knows she is, unfortunately, the only one who can possibly defuse this, despite the fact that she's shaking herself from what just happened. She reaches out, her hand on Elliot's chest, intending for the contact to calm him, realizing that it's soothing for her as well.

"El, don't, it's not worth it." She almost chokes on the words, because it fucking is worth it, because if every fucker who dared touch a woman without permission got a fucking beat down like Elliot would happily provide, she'd be out of a job.

But it's not worth their lives and she knows these Brotherhood assholes would kill both her and Elliot for any reason at all, let alone an attack on their leader.

Elliot's eyes turn to her, his stare catching and holding, and she can see him trying to make sense of everything through the haze of intoxication and she can see the guilt as he realizes that she was hurt because he'd invited her and she desperately wants to get him out of there before he loses it. They just need to get outside, to her truck, to a few fucking blocks away, then they can relax and he can scream and she can cry and he can stick his fist through her bumper if it makes him feel better. But he cannot lose it here, over her, because that will show them that his loyalty is to her, not to the damn Brotherhood, and then it will all have been for nothing.

He's still shaking with anger and she's still shaking with nerves, but she thinks she sees him nod. A moment later, his hands are wrapped around Donnelly's collar, Donnelly shoved hard enough into the wall that the back of his head bounces from the impact. "You stay the fuck away from her, do you hear me?"

Donnelly is chuckling as though something is funny. "Sorry, geez, I thought you two were just screwing around." His eyes dart to Olivia, running up and down her body belying his next words. "Didn't mean to step on your toes, partner."

She reaches out and grabs Elliot's arm as he's preparing to swing, knowing that Donnelly just hit a fucking hot button by using that word. "Elliot, outside, now."

She wants to glare at Donnelly and ask if he really wants Elliot to beat the shit out of him and she suspects that he does because Elliot had mentioned the mistrust and she thinks maybe Donnelly knows and is looking for a reason to kill Elliot and she realizes she's going to have to voice her concerns to Bell in the morning because Elliot is too wrapped up with these cases and these dirty cops and he can't think straight when he's undercover and is too dedicated to the cause and blinded by his curiosity about his father to read the writing on the wall. She's pretty fucking sure they're onto him, but they're going to keep using him for whatever protection having a UC in their midst provides. And once he's served his purpose, they'll kill him.

"You need to learn to share with your family, Stabler."

She tugs on Elliot's wrist before he can respond and starts walking, somewhat surprised when he follows without argument, but she doesn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, if anything about the night could be considered a gift, and she hears people asking why they're leaving and she sees Parnell holding a bag of ice to his eye and she doesn't respond to anyone as she leads Elliot to her truck.

She opens the passenger door for him, but rather than climbing in, he's just staring at her. "Elliot, get in the car. I want to go home."

"I'll drive." He puts his hand to her back to guide her toward the seat and she realizes he actually thinks she'd let him.

"Elliot, you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk." He winces as he makes the statement. "I've been drinking, but I'm not drunk."

"You just let me pull you away from a fist fight with a bastard who absolutely deserved it and you didn't even argue." She pushes him lightly, letting the way he loses his balance prove her point. "You're drunk, I'll drive."

He nods once, accepting her decree, but he doesn't move toward the seat. He reaches out instead, his fingers catching her hand. "Liv-"

She shakes her head, certain there are eyes on them even if she can't see them. "Not here." She's too fucking upset and on edge and she cannot deal with Elliot shifting gears from the angry avenging partner she knows so well to the gentle supporting boyfriend he desperately wants to be. "Get in."

His whole body deflates when she doesn't let him finish and she wants to feel bad, knows she'll feel bad later, but she doesn't have time for that right now. She has to get them away from here because she doesn't trust the Brotherhood not to follow them and start some kind of shit in the parking lot and Elliot wouldn't be able to fight them all off sober and he's not sober. But at least defeated Elliot is pliant and follows her instructions.

She's still shaking three miles later, a full mile past where she decided they weren't being followed, but she kept driving just to be safe. She wants to take him home, let him sleep off the buzz, and go home herself. She needs to take a shower and crawl into bed and pretend none of this even happened. But she can't, can't run the risk that someone is waiting for them at his place, maybe at hers, when she knows they need to talk and they aren't supposed to look like they're getting along right now.

It's past ten and she's tired after a long day and she finally pulls over and throws the truck into park. She sighs and leans back against the headrest, her heavy eyelids slipping closed without even thinking. "El, you need to be careful with them. I don't think things are going as well as you think."

"It's fine. They're just a bunch of assholes and drinking doesn't help." He sighs too, but she doesn't bother to open her eyes to look at him.

"Like I said, Elliot, I don't think things are going as well as you think." She doesn't want to flat out tell him she'd bet her life he'd been made and she wonders why. She knows he listens to her, most of the time, and if she tells him he's in trouble, he'll likely heed the warning. But maybe not. Maybe that's why she doesn't want to be more specific, demanding, insistent. Because she doesn't want to see him not listen.

He's quiet for a long time and she doesn't know if he's thinking about what she said, if he's considering it, or if maybe he just passed the fuck out on her. She's tempted herself and starts wondering what harm it would do for her to take a nap as well, if it would be wrong for both of them to find a moment of rest sitting together in her truck.

She knows she's drifting off and she forces her eyes open, fully expecting to find Elliot passed out next to her. But his eyes are open, locked on her, his expression soft as he stares. His lips curve into a smile while she's trying to process the idea that he was just sitting there watching her fall asleep.

He reaches over, his hand resting on hers, only the slightest pressure on her skin. "Did he hurt you?"

She knows he's coming down from the high of fighting, from the adrenaline rush that had seized him in the bar, and she knows he's finally realizing what he helped prevent in the bathroom hallway. She can see the way his eyes water and his brow furrows and his teeth bite down on his lip. She feels his hand curl around hers, more pressure now, his concern, his worry, his guilt crushing the bones in her fingers.

"I'm sorry, Liv, I never should have left you alone."

She shakes her head and breaks eye contact. "Wasn't your fault." And it wasn't, not really, maybe he'd invited her there, but that had been to protect an undercover operation of which she was fully aware. He hadn't known, couldn't have known, that Donnelly was going to feel her up when he knew Elliot was busy. She squeezes his hand and gives him a small smile as she starts the truck again. "Noah might still be up. Want to say hi?"

He's fighting to keep the smile off his face, to keep his expression neutral, but she sees the way his eyes are dancing with happiness at her invitation. It's several blocks before he finally answers, long after his fingers have threaded between hers. "Should probably see him now and then since apparently I'm supporting him." She doesn't even try to hide her grin that somehow the subterfuge regarding her son has just become an inside joke for them rather than an issue that's going to make trouble.

Noah's wide awake and not even in his pajamas when they get in and Olivia wants to be disappointed in Lucy for letting him play video games so late, but she's really just thankful that Lucy is so reliable and slips her some extra cash for putting up with the ridiculous schedule. By the time Olivia turns away from the door, Elliot has cleaned the dried blood off his lip with a paper towel and is sitting on the couch and Noah is explaining the point of his favorite game to Elliot and, unlike when he'd tried to do the same with her, Noah has found a thoroughly interested party who is asking what appear to be appropriate questions regarding the wizards' or goblins' or whatevers' special powers. Olivia just shakes her head and lets them talk for a few minutes until Noah finally yawns and she can insist he go to bed.

It's almost eleven by the time he's settled and Elliot is standing in the kitchen waiting for her and she's suddenly so nervous her mouth is dry when she steps into the room. She's not sure why she invited him, well, fuck, she knows why she invited him - because she wants to be around him and she wants him in her life all the fucking time like he used to be and they both had a rough night - but it's a week night and her son is here and she obviously wasn't thinking straight when she invited a man who has made his interest in her quite obvious into her home late at night. She thinks about offering him a drink, but he's already had plenty and she doesn't need anymore because she's already not making great choices.

She takes a bottle of water from the fridge and sips at it before offering the rest to him. He takes it from her, but a moment later it's abandoned on the counter and his eyes are burning into hers and he's sobered up enough that she knows he's wondering what he's doing there and what it means that she invited him and how much he should read into the idea that she deliberately let him talk to her son. He's trying to read her like always, but she honestly doesn't know what she's thinking, so she knows he's never going to be able to figure it out.

Except maybe he does because he's always known her better than she knows herself and he's always understood what she meant to say when she had no idea herself.

And then he's right in front of her, the idea of personal space out the window as he holds her eyes and when she doesn't back up or otherwise rebuff him, his hands move to her waist and he's still watching her, asking her, and now that he's touching her, she knows exactly what she's thinking and she knows he hears her thoughts loud and clear because he's seeking permission and she's granting it and a moment later, his mouth is on hers and maybe she didn't consciously intend to wind up here, but she's really fucking glad he read her fucking mind.

They stay like that for a long time, hands and mouths and lips and tongues discovering and learning and while she knows he wants more and she wants more, they are both well aware that her son is probably not yet asleep a few feet away and so this is limited to a gentle exploration. There's no panic over how far to let this go or how far it should go or if he'll still be there in the morning because there's no chance of inviting him to stay the night with Noah in the next room and so there's also no chance that he'll refuse to stay after and therefore it won't get awkward.

It's just comfortable and answers all the questions she didn't know she had about how much of what she assumed was between them was actually real and how much was just her imagination and there's a brief moment when things get a little more heated and he presses her against the wall and she absolutely knows that none of it was in her imagination and she wants to throw caution to the wind and ask him to stay and she knows that he would because he's been making it painfully clear that he wants an invitation since he's been back. But he's still undercover with the Brotherhood and she'd just pulled him out of a bar where he had already started one fight and was about to start another and so he isn't really capable of making rational decisions tonight.

She really doesn't want to, but she knows she has to. She leans back, the smallest signal against his hands on her back and he gets the message. It's not the right time and she desperately hopes that the right time is finally approaching and he's nodding at himself and at her and she tries not to feel cold when he steps away.

She can feel his eyes on her as she looks everywhere but at him. She's not embarrassed, she doesn't regret a damn thing, but she knows her feelings are written plain as day across her face and she can't possibly hide them right now and she doesn't want to confuse him because he's trying so damn hard so she has to hide how very fucking much she wants this until things are settled with the Brotherhood and he won't be distracted by her and him and them.

It takes her a minute, but she thinks she has herself together and she takes a step back and meets his eyes again. "Do you want to sleep on the couch?"

His eyes are burning into her with all the emotions he's no better at hiding. "No."

She gets it. She does. They've been playing with fire tonight and neither one of them wants to run the risk of burning the other. She nods slowly, knowing he's making the right call, but wishes he were staying anyway.

He's back in her space, his hands on her hips, his lips against her cheek, his whisper in her ear. "I'll call you when I can." He's gone a moment later while she's still marveling at the idea of him kissing her goodbye now.