Influenza

Chapter Twenty Three


Disclaimer: Nope, the show and the characters still do not belong to me. I'm working on it though... so maybe one day.

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He was waiting for her to call, when she did. Well, not waiting, per se. He had been watching TV when his phone rang, and it just so happened to be in his lap at the time. No coincidence at all... None whatsoever.

Nonetheless, when the phone rang, he had known that it was her. At least, he had hoped that it would be her. And when the phone rang for the second time, and the Caller ID came up, he found himself correct. It was her calling. So, the roses had worked. Or... they hadn't and she was calling to fuss at him some more, for trying to buy her way out of her anger. He really needed to stop over-analyzing things.

"Stabler," he greeted into the phone, although he knew that she knew that he knew it was her. It was programmed into his mind, answer the phone by using your surname. It was easier that way.

"Hey, El," she replied. "Thanks for the flowers."

Having already gone through this situation in his mind, his lips curled into a mischievous smile. "You're welcome..." he told her graciously, "What flowers?"

"What do you mean 'what flowers'? The ones that you sent me. White with pink tips. A dozen. Delivered to my apartment about five minutes ago."

"If somebody sent you flowers, Liv, it wasn't me..." he trailed off. "You're not seeing somebody else are you? I'm not going to have to arrest some Joe on a bogus charge, am I?"

She laughed at him, "Of course not! Are you sure that you didn't send them? The card said 'I'm sorry' on it, and well... you're the only one lately who's made me mad."

"I don't know what to tell you, Olivia. It wasn't me. Maybe you have a secret admirer."

"Uh-huh..." she replied, incredulous. "I don't believe you, Stabler."

He paused, then his grin broadened. "You shouldn't. I'm lying."

"I knew it!" she said in triumph. "Not many people know that they're my favorite. It had to be you. Or Alex, and I highly doubt she's going to ris... send me flowers from the afterlife."

"The message would fit," he said with a shrug.

"You're forgetting the other side said 'call me'."

"Hey, they've got those physic guys that can do all that crap for you, you know? That Silva Brown woman that's always on the talk shows."

Olivia paused for a second, "You watch talk shows?"

"No," he replied with a laugh. "Kathy used to."

"Oh..."

"I missed you today," he told her, to take her off of the subject. He knew that she was still insecure about his past marriage to Kathy and the last thing he wanted was to upset her further. "I was hoping you would have come over... but I guess that's pressing my luck."

"You're right," she said. "But, I'm not that mad at you, you know? I do understand why you acted like you did and I can't blame you for it, because I acted the way I did for the same exact reasons. I love you and I don't want to lose you."

"Don't worry," he assured her, "I'm gonna be around for a long time."

"You'd better be." She was quiet for a moment, but then changed the subject to the holiday. "What are we going to be doing for Christmas?"

Thinking about her statement, he decided that the word 'we' had never been so important before. It was their first holiday together, as a couple. "The kids are coming over for Christmas Eve, but only for a few hours, and then Maureen is taking them back to their mother's... I was thinking that you and I could spend a nice, quiet evening at my place, staying up late to see if Santa comes."

"I don't know," she replied with a sigh. "You've been a naughty boy this year..."

"Not as naughty as I could be," he told her, his voice husky and suggesting. She laughed, though to him it sounded strained, and he continued, "Besides, even if he doesn't come for me, he'll definitely swing by to drop some things off for you."

"I thought that Santa always left things at your own house, doesn't he? I don't live with you, Stabler. Nice try though. Better luck next time."

"That can be easily fixed, you know," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "The whole you not living with me thing."

There was a silence from her end of the phone, and he briefly wondered if maybe he had said the wrong thing just then. Maybe he was thinking too far ahead into the future, moving to fast for her liking. "How about we wait a couple more months to think about that, okay?"

"Sure," he said with a relieved sigh. At least she hadn't totally dismissed the idea. That was a good sign. "But I still say that we should try and catch the big man in the act."

"Um-hmm," she replied. "And what would we do while we waited?"

"Earn ourselves a spot on next years naughty list?" he asked, half-serious, half... well, mostly serious. Unless she agreed.

She laughed again, and he was finally starting to believe that she wasn't mad at him anymore. She couldn't be angry with him and continue to joke around like they were. He knew her mad, and this wasn't it. He decided that he would have to make sure to thank God for that. "You laugh now," he said, "but you won't next year when you don't get any presents."

"Really now?" she inquired. "And just who said that I was planning on going along with your little idea?"

"Oh, you know you wanna," he told her. "There's no way you don't wanna."

"We'll see about that one," she replied. "Christmas Eve."

A smile of triumph passed over his face, even though he was sure she had already decided to spend the holiday at his place a long time earlier, he had just won. He had suggested earlier in the conversation that she should stay at his place the night before Christmas, and now, she was going to. "You're on." Oh, he was so gonna win this bet. "Don't worry, even though you're gonna be on Santa's naughty list next year, you won't be on mine."

"Is that so?"

"Well... no, but I give more gifts to the one's on my naughty list anyway."

Once more she laughed, and once more he was reminded of how lucky he was. "And who all has been on your naughty list in the past?" she inquired of him.

"Nobody." he told her. "I just invented it."

"I see," she said with another laugh, although not such a rich one this time. "I'm glad that I inspired such an invention."

"You should be."

"Well... as much as I am enjoying this conversation," she replied with a sigh, "I have to clean up around my apartment and I am sure that you have a lot of things to do, as well. So, I am going to let you go for now."

"Okay. See you tomorrow?" he asked.

"Of course. Bright and early."

"I love you, ya know?"

"Yeah," she assured him. "I know. I love you, too."

"You're not mad anymore, are you?"

"Nah. I'll forgive you, for now."

He smiled. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Um-hmm," she murmured. "Goodbye."

"Bye."

They hung up and Elliot looked around his kitchen. He really didn't have anything to do, although he supposed his apartment could use a bit of cleaning. That wasn't very fun, in particular, and not the smartest thing to do when you're ankle had just been twisted. So, instead, he walked, albeit painfully, back to the living room where he had been during the beginning of the phone call, wondering briefly when he had migrated to the kitchen, and sat down in front of the TV. There was a marathon of C.S.I on and he had nothing better to do, so he flipped it to CBS and settled into the program.

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He walked into the station house the next morning, making a point not to limp, nor to show the pain that doing so was causing him. The captain had given him a day and a half off, which was more time than he wanted to be away, and the last thing he needed was to be sent home once more. He was already out of his mind with boredom, and in some ways, he knew work would cure that. Even if he was stuck on paperwork duty.

She was there already, wearing a dark purple sweater and a pair of black pants. No doubt, her leather jacket was hanging up in her locker. Her hair looked longer than it's norm, and he wondered briefly how he had missed it before. Hadn't she always kept her hair short? He decided that he didn't mind though, and maybe he preferred her hair at that length.

"Mornin'," Fin greeted sleepily from his desk, as Elliot slid into his chair. "How's tha leg?"

Elliot grunted in response, knowing that would be enough of a response for the man. Fin nodded, understanding, and went back to the paperwork he had been so diligently working on. Thursday mornings were no more fun than Wednesdays mornings, or Tuesday mornings, or any morning of the week, at that matter. Even though there was simply one day left until Friday, it wasn't the same as it had been during school. The weekend didn't bring the promise of late-afternoon sleep-ins, or the ability to lounge around the house in your pajamas the entire day. And Friday's were never a free day, not that they had been back then. But, they had always seemed easier. Now, Friday's were the most dreaded day of the week, and Monday's were what you looked forward too. Nobody feels like committing a crime on a Monday.

Olivia, however, wasn't satisfied by the caveman like behavior, and decided to question him further on the matter. "Your leg doesn't hurt anymore, then?" she asked, setting down her pen and looking up from her paperwork at him.

"I never said that," he replied with a shrug. "But, it's not that bad, and it won't get in the way of my work." He threw her a grin, "How's the arm?"

She looked over at her still bandaged arm, and sighed. "Sore... and I don't get the stitches out for a couple of days. Nothing to worry about, though. It'll heal and at the most, I'll have a light scar. Nothing I haven't gone through before." She shrugged as he had, "You sure your leg's not that bad?"

He nodded, "I'm sure. Don't worry about it.:"

Giving him a look that plainly said there was no way she wouldn't not worry about it, she went back to her paperwork, and he decided that he'd better start on his. "No coffee this morning?" he questioned, having noticed the lack of caffeine.

"Nah. Unless you want to drink the stuff Munch made."

Making a face that he tried to hide from John, Elliot shook his head, "I think I'll manage for a few hours."

"Smart boy," Fin muttered, not looking up from his work. Munch, having heard the jokes before, just sighed and pretended to ignore the conversation going on around him. It was a Thursday morning, anyway, and those were never fun. Now Monday mornings, those could get interesting.

Elliot looked up at Olivia in time to see a smile pass across her face, as she studied her paperwork. No, that couldn't be right. The last thing anybody did while doing paperwork was smile. Curiosity wining over, he leaned over the desk and took the papers from her hands, ignoring the shout of protest from her.

"Olivia Benson, this is not paperwork," he claimed, in mock shock.

In his hands, he held her Naughty List which contained of only one person; himself.

She shrugged, reached over the desk as he had, and grabbed the paper back from him. With a raised eyebrow, and her voice at a low, suggesting tone, she replied, "Don't worry, I give the best presents to the people on my naughty list, too."

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A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! This would have been out earlier, but something was either wrong with my computer, or fanfiction, because I couldn't sign in. Hopefully the next update won't take as long! Anyway, you know what to do, let me know what'cha think! I hope you're still enjoying this, even through the 10 plus days wait.