Chapter Fifteen: Mine
Alex
I wake up hours later, not sure how long we've slept after collapsing into each other's arms, breathless and happy. Your side of the bed is empty and I can hear you roaming around the house, trying to be quiet as you place a pan on the stove. I grin, knowing you're making my favorite post-coital breakfast. I stare at my ring in the sunlight that glows through the curtain's filter. Was I ever happy before? Was I ever content? I can't remember living without you for two years. It's going to be so hard to let you go back on Monday… harder than I expected. The sound of eggs cracking makes me think of all those days in our first year living together, waking up to you in my kitchen. In spite of all of our arguments, and mistakes, I still think we were better together than apart.
I look from my ring and back to my bedroom, the government's bedroom. Or rather, it used to be the government's bedroom. Now it's mine, for the moment. Ours. I thought, a few months ago, that it would be hard to leave this place. That I'd finally gotten attached. I was having trouble with the idea of leaving here, of returning to the bustle of New York. What changed? I was tying to find a way to tell you I might stay, or that I was at the very least postponing my return. And then there was you.
Seems like that happens a lot in my life. Ever since that first day, that first look. I saw you with your messy short-cropped hair, that leather jacket… the way your gun hung on your hip. Everything about you resonated with me. You were so angry with me at first, I know I drove you all crazy. But despite your frustrations, we usually worked together well. I admired your drive, your dedication. I loved to watch you with children. There's something so natural about you when you're dealing with a kid. The first time I saw you questioning a child I couldn't help thinking you'd make an amazing mother.
I'll never forget telling my mother about you. I'd only been SVU for about a month and she called to see how I liked the new job. Wanted me to know Uncle Bill had called to say I'd already called in a favor. I told her about everyone's resistance, how I was hoping my record would speak for me, that they'd realize I was on their side. Then I told her about you, couldn't stop talking about you. I told her about watching you with a kid. Watching you bend down, get on her level. The way you talked to her.
"She's amazing mom. She goes from tough cop to maternal in less than a second, and you can't help responding to her."
"It's a shame she's a lesbian then I suppose."
"What? How the hell would you know that?"
"Language, Alexandra. And as far as my sources, I do know a few people connected to your particular… squad of detectives."
As usual, she left me speechless. I should have learned by then not to underestimate the reach of mother's 'contacts.' I know better now. Just because I've stopped speaking with her doesn't mean she won't have access to check up on me when I get back. I've given up trying to figure out who around me will be reporting back to her.
The smell of eggs cooking breaks into my memories, and I put thoughts of my mother and her pack of spies behind me, grabbing a robe to cover my nakedness, then walking sleepily into the kitchen to wrap my arms around your waist as you place our plates on the table. I take a moment to peek at the steaming plates before kissing your neck from behind you. Just as I suspected, mushroom and sausage omelets.
Olivia
Mmmm. I love the feel of your arms around me as you sneak up on me from behind. I can't see your face but I know you're smiling as you kiss the hollow of my neck. I've made your favorite breakfast, even though it's after two. I didn't bother waking you when I got up to shower. My legs are still weak from earlier and I didn't think I could handle a shower session after this morning's activities. I turn in your arms, meeting those unbelievable blue eyes. This morning echoes in my mind, and I almost whisper again, 'mine.'
"Good morning sleepyhead." I keep my possessive notions to myself for now.
"What time is it?"
"About ten after two. I think I wore you out."
"Well it wasn't all you, I mean I hadn't slept either. Don't let it go to your head.'
I choose to ignore you, preferring to believe amazing things about my abilities, confirmed by the way your body squirms in my robe as I pull you into a deep kiss.
"Breakfast is served m'dear."
You pull away and sit before your plate. I delay my own eating to watch you take your first bite. I love watching you eat, especially when I've cooked for you. You're such an expressive diner. Knowing you as I do, I never figured out how you could work all day without stopping to eat. I still don't understand how you can get through the day on a vending machine sandwich, or a sidewalk stand salad. Someone like you should have gourmet for every meal.
I watch you roll your first bite in your mouth, your eyes closing as you breathe in the scent of mushrooms, and spicy sausage. You pause, relishing the mix of spice and flavor, and fluff of egg before moaning around your mouthful. A smile plays on your lips and for the millionth time since yesterday I think about how I could get used to this. Did anything in my life ever feel right before? Was I ever complete before you? You open your eyes and look at me quizzically.
"Aren't you hungry?"
"I was just watching you."
You blush, and once again I'm awed by your beauty. How can you be so confident and so shy at the same time? It's one of the many paradoxes that I find so attractive in you.
"Are you going to eat or stare at me?"
"Can't I do both?" You roll your eyes at me and go back to your omlette. I don't comment on the half smile that's sneaking across your face. You pretend to be annoyed, but I can see through that. I give in, and eat my breakfast, my heart full of this moment together.
When we're done we wash the dishes together, falling into our old apartment habit. We ignore the dishwasher and instead you dry as I wash. We relish the small touches as I hand you a plate, the flutter of our fingers together as you take the pan. These little domesticities are comforting, like a return to our first times together, our old routines made delicate with our new relationship, and without the tension of our former troubles. I put off thoughts of returning on Monday without you, choosing instead to turn to you as you put away the last dish, watching as you stretch to place the last cup in its place. I watch in appreciation at the shadows cast by the bands of sunlight across your body. Your robe is thin, almost sheer, and I can't help being moved by the beauty of your curves, muted by the almost translucent fabric. Despite my earlier resolve, the word flashes again through my head,
Mine.
Alex
I can feel you watching me as I put away the last of our dishes. What is it about the knowledge of your gaze that makes me shy, even after all these years? I start wishing I'd grabbed your big terry robe instead of this flimsy one. I can feel your eyes traveling up my legs, over my hips, watching as I stretch to put the last glass on the top shelf. I flush as I turn to confront your eyes.
"Did you enjoy the view?"
You don't respond, choosing instead to tuck one hand inside the sheer fabric of my robe, and trace the line of my body, shoulder to hip. I can't help shivering at this tenderness, and I feel again as I did this morning, as though I'm being claimed, and even though you remain silent as you kiss me possessively, the word hangs in the air between us.
Mine.
I should be upset, should rebel against your need to exert your custody of me, of my heart. But for some reason I enjoy the feeling of belonging to you. My independent nature should rise in anger at the thought of being possessed, of being owned. But instead I look at you and mirror your emotion. Looking at you, watching you run a hand through your hair, watching the sun glaze your pale brown skin. My mind echoes you…
Mine.
Olivia
How long have we been standing here, staring at each other? Seconds… minutes… hours? Looking at the clock confirms its been only a few minutes, but somehow I feel as though we've held this pose for days, finding something in each other that requires study, examination. What is it about the rings on our fingers that's given us such a desire for review? Maybe it's the knowledge that we're standing on the edge of the future, looking ahead makes us want to look behind. We've never had that before. There was always a tension beneath our relationship, something leading to an ending. We've never had this sense of things to come before.
One of us has to break this silence, get our bodies moving again, our lives moving again. We can't spend our life in this kitchen, watching each other watch each other.
I clear my throat, not sure why I'm suddenly so unnerved by this moment.
"I thought maybe we could go into Portland, do some shopping? Maybe start picking up some magazines and such."
The sound of my voice in the silence seems to resonate as oddly with you as it did with me, and I've woken us both back to the sounds of the house, the sounds of the world that's been moving around our stasis.
"Ok. I need to get dressed, and probably a shower. Care to join me?"
I shake my head, almost afraid of getting caught up in another of these moments.
"I'll start making some of those phone calls. At least Elliot. I'll wait for you before I call Cap."
I watch you walk towards the bedroom, and find myself right back where I started. In awe of the feeling of being loved by you.