I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm
Fleeterberry
Spoilers: set after season 23x08/2x08
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Olivia Benson hates winter. Absolutely hates it. She hates the cold and the snow and the extra layers and the short days and everyfuckingthing about it so much she wonders why she hasn't moved somewhere that's perpetually sunny and warm. But no, she's still in New York and will probably always be in New York and there's cold wind every time she steps outside and she has to remind Noah about his hat and scarf and gloves every single morning. New York winters are always rough and she knows her tolerance for the cold is getting worse as she gets older and sometimes she longs for those days when a hot mug of coffee Elliot left on her desk would be enough to undo the chill in her hands from walking all the way to work in nothing more than a leather jacket.
But unlike last year and the year before and the year before that, she doesn't mind it so much when she's making Noah breakfast and the weather forecasters threaten snow accumulation later in the day. She doesn't mind the flat gray sky and the tingle on her nose and the irritating sounds of the salt trucks making the rounds. She wants to say it's because she's older and wiser and more in tune with the universe, but she knows that's bullshit.
She's in love. She doesn't care about the cold because every moment she's alone and frequently when she's not, she's thinking about him, about him walking a little too closely next to her, about the way he holds her eyes for a long moment and then starts to smile for no reason at all, about how he's come to dinner at her house and he's carried a sound asleep Noah to her car after they stayed late to watch a movie at his place. She thinks about the occasional times when she touches his hand and he brushes her shoulder or they let their knees touch as they share a quiet moment over coffee in a diner.
It's never gone any further than that and part of her worries that they've slipped right back into their relationship as partners that was defined by excusable touches and inexcusable longing stares and sometimes she fears it's all one-sided, the same way she's always feared he just wants to be friends and she's wittingly or unwittingly misinterpreting everything he does. And maybe that's the way it is and always will be and rather than wasting what she has by wishing for more, she's enjoying every moment of this second chance with him. She's happy that he's in her life and some of the tension has burned off because there's really nothing holding them back now except their own wills and that makes it so much easier to tolerate the impossibly slow burn they have going on, if that is indeed what's happening.
This morning is perfectly normal, with the same microwaved sandwich for her and cold cereal for Noah and a discussion about the upcoming field trip for his science class and the lady giving the weather makes her dire prediction that they are calling for several inches of snow in the next day or so and Olivia fully expects the alert before lunch that Noah's school has closed and to be coordinating with Lucy and Amanda to get all the kids home safe. Noah is excited, as all seven-year-olds are with the anticipation of a break from the routine and he's chattering about sledding and maybe building a snowman and Olivia is thinking that her hands will absolutely freeze and how she should have bought those heated gloves she was looking at a few weeks ago and then Noah innocently asks a question that dumbfounds her.
"Do you think Elliot and Eli will help me build a really big snowman?"
And she wants to smile and say of course because of course Elliot will help him because Elliot loves children more than more pre-school teachers do and Eli will probably help too because he seems to get along with Noah, but the casual mention of just how entwined their lives have become stops her in her tracks. It scares her a little. As close as she feels like they've gotten, the idea of Elliot taking on more of a parental role sets both she and Noah up for a fall. She trusts Elliot with her life and she absolutely loves him with everything she is and he probably knows that and maybe feels the same, but he's not exactly reliable when it comes to her and her feelings and she can survive the heartbreak because she can survive anything, but she would never survive watching Noah's heart be broken by Elliot and Eli and the other kids and this enormous extended family Noah has somehow begun to count on.
She doesn't want to be that nagging woman demanding a commitment from a guy who isn't ready to make one, but she is overwhelmed at the idea that she might actually need one before she lets this get more out of hand than it already is. And it's already out of hand because they're not in a relationship and they're not dating and they don't really touch or kiss or discuss anything of any real import besides work and the truth is their relationship has been out of hand since the day they met except maybe it's just her fucking imagination that's running amok.
She fakes a smile as she turns away to pour the last of her coffee into the sink. "You'll have to ask Elliot next time you see him." He's supposed to be coming over for dinner, but with the weather, there's a very real chance that won't happen, and Olivia is let down at the idea that she won't see him, but also a little relieved because she's worried she's going to be fixated on the whole situation all day and will probably have talked herself into breaking up with her not-boyfriend by dinner time and so it would just be better if a damn blizzard swallows the city whole for a few days and she can sort out her thoughts before Elliot has a chance to pick up on her preoccupation and the reason for it.
She's right about the schools and Amanda rants about how quick the city is to send the kids home now that most children are set up for online classes and Olivia just nods and calls Lucy and watches the snow as it starts to fall while she waits for the message that Noah is home safe, either at Lucy's or home, whichever Lucy determines is the safest destination since she's the one transporting the precious cargo in crappy weather. For most of the afternoon, it looks like the meteorologists and city officials jumped the gun, because while the sky looks heavy and dull and there is snow steadily falling, it's not accumulating anywhere except windshields.
Happy to hear that Noah and Lucy are safe at Lucy's apartment and Amanda made it home with her babies, Olivia turns back to her work and gets lost in paperwork for the rare quiet afternoon. She's been so busy catching up that she hasn't even had the chance to consider her worried thoughts over Noah's question.
She glances at her phone when it buzzes, expecting another in the series of pictures Lucy has been sending of her and Noah making paper snowflakes and silly faces.
We still on for dinner?
Her heart skips a beat when she sees the message, somehow distracted into thinking she really needs to update his contact name to El instead of Stabler, but feeling like such a move is somehow either presumptuous or bad luck and besides, his old number is still stored in her phone as El and she could never convince herself to delete it and it just kept carrying forward with every new phone she bought but she still doesn't want to update it because somehow it feels like she'd be erasing their partnership which is insane, but still true.
She holds the phone in her hands and starts to respond, but she honestly doesn't know what to say. If they're just friends, and it usually appears that they are, she needs to step back, rein in her feelings, temper Noah's expectation that Elliot is permanently a part of their lives. If they're more, and sometimes it really does seem like that's the case, she needs to be sure, he needs to be sure, they need to fucking decide that.
And so she sits frozen, staring at his message and wondering why the hell she feels like a confused teenager. Probably because at this point, after the last few months, she is so unsure of herself and every relationship she's ever had she might as well be an inexperienced teen. She really hasn't wanted to delve into the truth about Lowe with her therapist and so has denied the experience, except she hasn't been able to stop herself from realizing that what she'd thought was her first adult relationship wasn't and somehow it refutes all of her relationships since and now she's not sure she knows how to be in a romantic partnership because her idea of such a thing was based entirely on a situation where someone else had all the power. And this, whatever it is, is with Elliot and therefore already completely equal but also completely not because she's been head over fucking heels in love with him for a quarter of a fucking century and he's either undecided or just really fucking patient and she knows she needs to answer him but she doesn't know what to say.
Liv? Everything ok?
No, she wants to tell him, because she doesn't know anything anymore, but as she thinks about cancelling, she feels her heart sink and she wants to see him because she does love him and whatever they are or aren't, she feels better when she's around him.
Fine, just busy. You? She forgets to answer his original question, but maybe she didn't forget at all, maybe she needs to get a read from him as to whether he's looking for a reason to cancel or he's just confirming or he was thinking of her and came up with what seemed like a valid excuse to contact her five hours early although if they're really in a relationship, romantic or otherwise, he shouldn't need an excuse to text her.
Dinner?
She stares at the message and wants to scream. She wants something from him and she's tired of reading between the lines and interpreting looks and now there aren't even sentences and glances, there's just a few typed words with no inflection or smile or anything and she suddenly wishes he used seventy-five emojis after every note like Noah does because then she'd be able to guess what sort of answer he wanted.
What about it? She shouldn't be petty because it's likely to start a fight and she doesn't want a fight, she wants him to come over for dinner like they planned so he can give her a smile or touch her hand or put his arm over the back of the sofa so it's almost like he has his arm around her, but she doesn't want to admit it because she can take him breaking her heart so long as she can convince herself he doesn't know he's breaking her heart.
Do you want to cancel?
She wishes they were talking so she could hang up on him. Instead she worries her lip between her teeth and thinks about cancelling just so she can tell herself it was her idea. But she doesn't because she really wants to see him, even if she's irritated with him. She opts for abrasive because he usually realizes he's pissing her off when she gets abrasive with him.
You're the one asking so if you want to cancel, cancel. Rather than the quick reply, there is a long, long pause and she knows he knows she's mad and she knows he's trying to figure out why because sometimes he's a fucking idiot and really has no idea why she's ever mad at him.
Have you been too busy to look outside?
Confused by his lack of response to her bait and the abrupt change of subject, she stands up and looks out her window and is no longer at all confused. Since the last time she checked, the predictions have come to pass and the sidewalks are covered and the cars are buried and the salted road is a snowy, slushy mess and as she sees a patrol car skid as it comes to a stop in front of the precinct, she realizes that dinner is definitely off. She's already starting to throw files in her bag and toss her computer in with them and is pulling her hat on her head because she's already broken a bone this year and she has no desire to do it again so she's going home while there's a chance she can make it safely and she's pocketing her keys before she sees her phone sitting on her desk and remembers Elliot is still waiting for an answer. She feels the let down even though she knows it's the right choice.
Sorry, maybe later in the week? Her own words make her want to cry and she tells herself this needs to stop, that when they reschedule she's going to have to press him as to what's going on because she can't spend the rest of her life waiting for something that's never going to happen or that might have happened already.
His response takes a long time and she wants to apologize because she thinks maybe she let him down too. Need a ride home?
She smiles at her phone, a smile she can't hide when she tells Fin she's leaving early and he looks intrigued, but says nothing. Either Eliiot really wants to see her or he's just worried, but it's nice either way.
No, I'm good. Ever since her accident in the spring, she's been a little more wary of driving, but it would be completely out of his way in a snow storm to come pick her up, take her home, and then go back to his place.
I know you don't like driving in the snow.
She sighs, of course he knows she doesn't like driving in the snow because he knows she doesn't like driving at all, but she can't take advantage of his offer because she'll be worried about him getting home safe, the same way he evidently is about her. I'll be careful.
She's stepping through the door and her eyes are already stinging from the cold and she's wincing at the heels she chose to wear because she'd been dressed before she'd seen the news that morning and it's going to be slippery as fuck getting to her car and why didn't she park in the damn garage instead of on the street this morning and she's now terrified of slipping and breaking her ankle again and that'll be even worse than sitting home alone and wishing Noah wasn't staying at Lucy's and that Elliot hadn't cancelled on her.
Her phone buzzes again and she only looks at it because it's in her hand and she realizes that she needs to put it away before she breaks it along with her ankle but the words stop her dead in her tracks.
Get in the car, Liv.
She stares at the words, trying to make sense of them, and somehow before she does, he's there, at her side, taking her laptop bag and her purse and wrapping his arm around her waist. "You're so damn stubborn, Olivia."
She's still stunned, so much so that she's now staring at him instead of her phone and trying to catch up on the turn of events and he's so damn close and the whole fucking world is gray and white except his fucking eyes are still that damn bright blue that shortcircuits her brain. "What are you doing here?"
"Getting you home safe." He's looking down at her shoes and shaking his head and she remembers how she'd insisted Noah wear his snow boots and she hadn't thought to take her own advice.
It's only a few short steps before he's tossing her things in the backseat of his truck and opening her door and helping her climb up into the cab that is warm and comfortable and completely lacking in the damn wind-driven snow she is very glad she doesn't have to walk in, even if only would have been far enough to get to where she parked.
She looks over at him when he joins her, his lips curving into a smile at her for a moment before he turns his attention to driving in the storm. She wants to thank him, but there's a lump in her throat and if she tries to talk around it, she knows she'll cry and she knows how he'll respond if she starts crying and as much as she'd love to be wrapped up in a tight hug, she doesn't want to scare him while he's driving. As soon as the thought of hugging him crosses her mind, she desperately wants to touch him and she silently curses the damn weather because usually he drives with his left hand and rests his right arm on the console where she could reach it if she wanted, but it's fucking pouring snow out of the damn sky so hard the wipers are barely clearing it for a second and the tires have already spun three times in as many blocks and so both of his hands are locked around the wheel and she knows he's not about to let go.
She turns her attention to her sorely overdue manicure because she can't see out the window and she feels guilty for needing his help even if she hadn't needed it and didn't ask for it and would have refused if he'd given her the option. "You should have gone home. There's no point in both of us being out in this."
He waits until the end of the block when he's waiting patiently at a red light before he turns to look at her and that smile is back and it actually reaches his eyes and he looks different to her, softer somehow, and she starts to wonder if that's because he really does love her or if she loves him so much right now that tears are trying to form.
"I was looking forward to dinner." He reaches over, his hand covering hers where it rests in her lap, his squeeze light, his gaze deep.
And he's just staring at her and she's staring back and she's clenching her teeth together to keep herself from telling him she loves him so very much that she thinks she might die from it. An impatient driver behind them sounds his horn and she jumps and Elliot lets go of her hand to resume his self-assigned task of protecting her.
Mercifully the ride, which takes much longer than normal due to the deteriorating conditions, is without incident and though they're parked in the garage and there's not even a hint of snow in the protected environment, Elliot insists on grabbing her bags and helping her out of the car. She wants to say something, to object, to preserve her dignity in case she doesn't like the answer when she finally forces the subject, but she can't because her mouth declares mutiny and only says thank you as she steps down from the truck and then says nothing at all while he walks her into the bulding, so fucking close that their arms brush with every other step.
There's a moment, while they're riding in the elevator with some other residents, that she wishes they were alone, because she'd love for him to drop her bags on the floor, crowd her back against the wall, and kiss the motherfucking sense out of her. Her cheeks burn at the idea and she keeps staring directly ahead and decides it's all his fault because the elevator isn't so crowded that he needs to be pressed against her side and yet here he is.
They're at her door and she's fishing for her keys in the bag he's still holding for her when he asks if Noah is already home and if she's going to take him sledding in the morning and she thinks she hears a bit of wistfulness, as though he's fishing for an invitation. She swallows hard and pushes open the door to the dark apartment that is obviously devoid of a child at the moment and informs him that Lucy picked up Noah from school and decided he should stay at her place because it was safer than bringing him home where Lucy would have to chance going out in the storm when Liv got in.
She sees the surprise and she's glad for it because she knows he didn't deliberately come up with some thinly veiled excuse for them to be alone together, but she's also a little confused because now she can't help but think he's really here because he wants to take Noah sledding and maybe that's because Eli is old enough to not want to do anything with his father and Elliot really fucking likes being a father. And it's the perfect time to mention that Noah wants to build a snowman with him and Eli, but she doesn't because she's afraid it'll encourage him to focus on her son and while she loves that Noah has a male figure in his life again, she wants a male figure in her life too dammit.
He finally lets her take her bags back once they're inside and they hang up their coats and he moves into the kitchen, flipping on the light and opening the fridge like he owns the place. "What were you thinking about for dinner?" He closes the fridge and opens the freezer instead and she wants to admit she's in the mood for pasta because it's cold and she fucking loves alfredo sauce, but she always shies away from anything that might make him think of Italy and Kathy and so she shrugs in answer.
"I hadn't thought about it. I wasn't planning on being home this early."
He turns around suddenly, quickly, in a determined movement that catches her attention with its purposefulness even though the purpose is less than obvious. She feels uncomfortable and the room seems weirdly small and she's rethinking everything she thinks she knows as Elliot leans back against the counter with his hands braced on either side of his hips and his eyes are locked on hers and she doesn't know or care why he's here in her life again she's so fucking glad that he is but fuck either he's trying to make her nuts or she's already completely fucking nuts but she cannot figure out what the hell is going on anymore.
Initially the eye contact is comforting because it still feels like that first time she met his eyes when she knew she'd made the right choice in joining special victims if only to meet him and any of the next million times when a moment of staring into his eyes reassured her after a hard case or a long day or a close call and that fateful night with the sirens and the flashing lights and the echo of his voice that had been silent for so long she'd been surprised she still recognized it and all the feelings she'd ever felt for him crashed over her in that moment and she could only stare in shock that he was there in front of her again.
But after the first few seconds, when it becomes clear there's something on his mind and it explains why he insisted on dinner even when it made no sense under the circumstances and why he showed up to drive her home even though she's going to have to pay for an Uber to get back to her car in the morning and she can't fathom what he's thinking because although she can easily predict his behavior given any defined stimulus, he's just standing in her kitchen and staring at her and he might as well be a complete fucking stranger for all she can read from him right now.
She opens her mouth to speak, to ask, but she remembers she isn't sure she wants to know and maybe he's about to end this relationship that never really was and if that's the case, she'd rather have the uncomfortable, awkward silence for as long as it lasts before that door gets slammed in her face.
But it keeps going on - the staring and the silence and the gripping of his fingers on the counter harder than he'd been gripping the steering wheel and she tries to remind herself to keep breathing steadily so she doesn't get dizzy and distract him from whatever it is he's working up the nerve to say.
Finally she can't take it anymore and she tries to break the silence. "El-" but there's nothing else to say because she really has no idea where this is going and so can't help him along.
He takes a breath and looks away and she hates herself for interrupting his thought process and clearly making him change his mind because he's turned back to the cabinets and is pulling stuff down seemingly at random. "Go get changed, take a shower, whatever, I'll figure out dinner."
She wants to stop him, to demand he say what he was trying to say, but he's more stubborn than she is and there's no way to get it out of him until he's ready to say it and now she's reset that clock and so she turns for her bedroom with a heavy sigh she's not sure if she wants him to hear.
"Olivia?"
She stops moving, unsure if she's supposed to respond or keep walking or what, but there's something vulnerable about him today and maybe she's projecting, but she won't walk away if he's reaching out because she wouldn't want him to do that to her. She turns back to him slowly, her body just outside the door to the kitchen and he's pulling measuring cups out of her drawers and she wants to ask if he's planning on doing anything besides making a mess, but she doesn't. He's absolutely not looking at her and she didn't make any noise when she turned so she knows he isn't aware she's still there.
"Yeah?" She wishes she knew how to encourage him, but every attempt she's ever made has blown up in her face and she worries, not for the first time, that she really doesn't know this man at all.
He's got the big pasta pot in the sink and he's running the water into it and lifting it onto the stove and now that he's moved slightly she can see the box of fettuccine on the counter and she doesn't want it anymore because she doesn't ever want anything to remind her of the place he spent all those years not knowing her.
He turns on the burner and pours some salt in the water and now she knows there's nothing to do except wait for the water to boil, but he's still watching it and she doesn't dare speak again. This time it only takes him a minute, she knows because she only sees the numbers change on the microwave display one time, for him to turn around. He's facing her, his eyes closing the distance between them while the room feels like it's a million miles across.
"I really want to kiss you." Although it's taken all this time and preparation, the words are calm and steady and delivered in his perfectly normal sounding voice and she can hardly breathe hearing them and she marvels at how casual he sounded except he wasn't casual at all and it took him a fucking eternity plus ten minutes to get the damn words out.
As much as she's been longing for this confirmation, as scared as she's been that he didn't feel anything more than friendship, she finds she's actually completely unprepared to respond. She draws in a breath, trying to steady her nerves and she's jealous of Elliot's ability to plan this moment where he at least has a counter to grab onto while he waits for an answer and she has nothing but the wall.
She knows she has to say something, to have mercy on him for daring to toe that fucking line, and so she tries. "That's uh," but she still doesn't know what to say because she really wasn't expecting this and maybe she would have had an easier time if he'd just fucking kissed her because he's always been bold and self-assured and pretty much always acted before he thought about the consequences and so she arrives at the truth. "That's surprising."
His head jerks up from where he's been looking at the floor, confusion written all over his face. He looks fucking devastated. "Really?"
It is, but it isn't, because it was her self-doubt that was telling her otherwise when all of his actions had been pretty obvious. She shrugs. "That you're saying it, I guess." Because really, when she allowed herself to think about it, she'd never anticipated this. She'd truly expected, if it ever happened, that he'd just finally give in to the fucking passion and grab her and kiss her without giving her a warning and she'd been more or less expecting it to happen exactly like that at any minute throughout the vast majority of their partnership.
His eyes are back on hers, maybe because she hasn't shot him down. "But you know I've been thinking it."
She bites her lip because she's still of two minds about what she was thinking and if she tries to recall it now, all of her memories will be overshadowed by what he's just told her. "Maybe." She looks at him, wondering how one honest statement between them has just erased the ease that has always existed with them, and then she thinks about how Burton fucking Lowe had so recently jumbled everything in her head and her heart and she knows Elliot would understand why she's so damn confused by her own thoughts after that but she doesn't want to tell him because she'd rather have the damn fettuccine that will remind him of Kathy than she wants to bail him out of jail for murdering the son of a bitch who groomed her. She shakes her head to focus on Elliot and nothing else and she sees that he's concerned now but still standing his ground across her kitchen. "I thought sometimes maybe, but sometimes not." It might not be coherent, but it's true and it's all she's got and maybe this whole honesty thing is worth a shot.
He nods, giving far more thought to her words than she really expected, but hell he's full of surprises tonight. Then he takes a deep breath and lets go of the counter and if she didn't know better, she'd say he's about half a second from doing it and she isn't sure if she's more excited or nervous and she tries to remember what she had for lunch because she hasn't brushed her teeth since this morning and for all she's thought about it and dreamt about it and wanted it and imagined different scenarios in which he would finally fucking kiss her, she's not ready. She's always been more of a thinker than him and she needs time and she doesn't know how to tell him that without hurting him, but he's watching her face and reading her and he already knows without her having to say it.
"So now I've said it." He's calmer, leaning back on the counter again and waiting for her response.
"Ok." She realizes her mistake based on how fast his entire body tenses.
"Ok? Is that a yes?" He's ready to spring across the room and she's quite frankly surprised that he hasn't and she wants to giggle because she's known the man a long damn time and she's certain she's never seen him so eager to do anything ever but then she wants to cry because she has to throw a wet blanket on his excitement.
"It's ok that you said it." She knows she's letting him down, but she has to think because if he kisses her right now she knows exactly what's going to happen and she won't be in any better shape to decide what to think after they have sex than she is now just hearing that he wants to kiss her.
His head leans to the side and he's trying to read what she wants but she really doesn't know what she wants besides some time to think about it and so there's nothing for him to discern from her face. "But not ok that I do it?"
And she really doesn't fucking know. Because of course she wants to kiss him, she's wanted to kiss him for so fucking long she can't remember a time when she didn't, but she's so uncertain and confused about everything in the past few months and the past year and the past ten and the twelve before that. "Um, I, uh," she trails off because she's so confused she can't remember her own name anymore.
He doesn't make her stammer through an answer. "Think about it." He turns back to the pot and stares at it although that will make the room any less uncomfortable. "Let me know what you decide."
"Thank you." The words surprise both of them and she can see his confusion in the way he turns to look at her again and she knows her next words aren't going to make him any less confused until she tells him about Lowe and she will eventually because as much as she'd rather keep it hidden, she knows she can trust him with it. "For letting me decide."
She can see the recognition in his eyes and she wonders how much of her life he's caught up on without waiting for her to tell him because no matter how many times she thought through it, he was always the one to make the first move and not because he'd be trying to pressure her, but because he's an alpha male and he's always believed that actions speak louder than words but he's letting this, them, be about words and thoughts and equality. She's overwhelmed in that moment, thinking about how fucking much this man has changed and she's pretty damn sure he's changed for her.
Finally he nods and she sees no reproach in his expression for not giving him an answer, but there is hope there and she assumes that's because she didn't throw him out for suggesting such a thing. He's just watching her and she wonders if he's expecting something else from her but then it occurs to her that he's just watching her because he wants to look at her and he's probably extremely relieved that he finally brought it up and she didn't completely shoot him down and she finds herself smiling the way he smiled at her in the car.
"I'm going to get changed." She doesn't wait for his response as she heads to her bedroom because she knows they both need a few minutes. As she picks through her drawers and tries to figure out what to put on, she realizes that something huge just happened and she understands why he was so damn nervous and why it took him so long to say it even after he'd decided to say it and she wonders how much thought he'd given it and trying to decide if he should rock the boat or not because he's apparently been having the same confusion about their current status and while she spent breakfast looking forward to dinner and seeing him, at least until Noah made her check herself, he'd probably spent his breakfast worrying if this was the right day and time and fearing how she'd respond and praying she'd say yes and she feels bad for not being ready yet.
She's really tempted to put on something warm and cozy because she gets a chill when she glances out the window at the snow-covered world beneath, but Elliot is wearing a fucking three-piece suit and making her favorite dinner and has just asked for permission to kiss her and she doesn't want to look like a damn slob, but she's also not going to get dressed up because even if this might be sort of a date, part of the allure of a relationship with Elliot is that they have always been comfortable together, even when they're not. Eventually she decides on some leggings because they're warm and soft and show off the curves that she's noticed Elliot admiring more than once when he didn't know she saw and tops them off with a baggy sweatshirt because she doesn't want him to think she's trying that hard and a big pasta dinner is going to make her belly pooch out over her pants in a most unflattering way and then pulls on some thick socks because she hates when her toes get cold.
She thinks about touching up her makeup, but opts instead to scrub her face clean. He's seen her looking a hell of a lot worse and she's already embraced the casual look and if they wind up watching TV and he actually puts his arm around her rather than on the back of the couch, she wants to be able to lay her face on his chest without worrying about ruining his shirt. The thought of that alone makes her heart pound and her cheeks redden and she has to splash cold water on her face to calm herself down and even while she's telling herself it's ridiculous to get so hot and bothered over the idea of a half embrace, she knows it's not because now that he's voiced a desire, an intention, a hope, everything either one of them does will be interpreted in a completely different context and certainly cuddling with him on the couch will look to him like a positive signal and might encourage him to go ahead with kissing her and then she's splashing more cold water on her face.
As she makes her way back to the kitchen, she wonders what the hell he found in her cabinets that smells so damn good but when she checks, it's just her regular jar of alfredo sauce and her box of store-brand pasta and eventually she traces the smell to the oven where he's fashioned some garlic bread out of her low-calorie whole wheat bread and a lot of butter and a magical combination of the spices he found while he was pulling apart her cabinets.
"That smells really good." She's nervous as hell, but she pretends like she's not as she pulls salad ingredients from the fridge and starts throwing them in a bowl.
She's standing next to him at the counter while he's stirring the sauce on the stove and when he doesn't answer, she glances over at him and finds that he's staring back at her and she sees the way his hand clenches around the spoon he's using to stir and the idea hits her so hard it's almost physical in its power and she knows, she absolutely knows, he is desperate to kiss her right fucking now and it's taking all of his determination to respect the line she drew.
It's awkward now, and that bothers her because they've never been awkward and maybe they should have just left things the way they were because it was comfortable even if it was confusing and she tries to think of a way to blame herself for making it this way and it's hard because he was the one who brought it up out loud but then she remembers all the times she passively encouraged his overtures and when she actively made her own and she realizes that he never would have gone there if he hadn't assumed she'd be ok with it.
And she realizes, as they're eating dinner and choking on the silence, that he was right. She is ok with it. She's not sure she should be ok with it, which is where she's getting hung up, but she is ok with the idea of them pushing the boundaries. In all honesty, after everything they've gone through in all these fucking years of being together and apart, there's nothing that's going to break them. Nothing. Whatever happens, whether they survive as a couple or decide they're better as friends, they'll get through it and they'll always be them and they'll always have a relationship and a bond and an understanding that defies fucking words and is absolutely inexplicable to anyone who isn't them.
He's putting the dishes in the dishwasher and she's glancing out the window while she sips her wine and she knows he needs to leave because the snow is still falling and it's too comfortable to have him here, even if it's awkward, and she's going to be terrified until she knows he's home safe and then she's going to miss him desperately and she sighs in disappointment at herself that she can't even enjoy this time when they're together because she's already dreading when they're going to be apart.
"Have the plows come through yet?" He steps into the living room and he's shoving his hands in his pockets and she wonders if he's uncomfortable because he wants to go or if he's uncomfortable because he wants to stay.
"Doesn't look like it." It's still early and she figures the trucks are waiting for the snow to stop because they were calling for a storm, but not a fucking blizzard, and she wants an excuse to insist he stay so much that she knows it's probably time for him to go.
He joins her at the window, probably trying to make his own assessment as to what he should do, maybe just wanting to be close to her, and then he's not looking at the street, but at her and he's being so obvious that she knows she's supposed to meet his eyes and she wants to chug the rest of her wine, but instead turns to face him.
His hand raises to her cheek and his fingers brush her skin and the touch is so fucking soft and then it's gone and his hand is in his pocket again. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Liv, that was never my intention."
She shakes her head and turns away because he didn't make it uncomfortable, her fucking demons made it uncomfortable. She wonders if she should shut this down and force everything back to before and be satisfied with the closest friendship she'll ever have and she knows it will hurt, but it will also protect, and she's willing to make that choice for herself, but she's not sure if Elliot will understand that she's afraid of breaking something that she knows will never break.
He takes a deep breath and turns back to look out the window. "I should probably head home before it gets any worse."
And she feels bad, knowing she's disappointed him, hurt him, and she can't even figure out why she's doing it and she doesn't want the evening to end and she definitely doesn't want it to end like this and the snow is going to stop eventually and she might as well milk the gift the universe gave her for all it's fucking worth. "You should wait until the trucks come through. Don't make me worry about you driving in this."
She watches him considering it and weighing his options and he obviously can't make up his mind and she wonders if she thinks that loudly when he asks her a question she shouldn't have to ponder like it's a life or death choice. But she understands completely that he's not sure what to say because while he wants one thing he's trying to guess which one she wants and having been in that situation far too many times recently, she knows he's staring at her and looking for a tell and if he doesn't get one he's probably going to pick the wrong one because that's what always happens to her.
So she reaches out, grabs his hand, and nods toward the couch. "They'll plow eventually. Might as well stay until then."
The side of his mouth curves up in the tiniest hint of a smile. "Yeah, ok."
They're both on their third glass of wine, hers considerably more empty than his, when she hears it. The growling, snarling, unmistakable scraping sound of a plow truck making its way up her block. She wishes she could pretend she doesn't hear it, but the room is quiet because they'd channel surfed for a while but there was nothing to watch and so Elliot had switched off the tv and Olivia had turned on the fireplace and they were just sitting there on the couch, snuggled together with Olivia quite happily tucked into Elliot's side and his arm finally resting on her instead of the back of the couch and his fingers had twisted into her hair at some point and her face was pressed into his shirt and she was thinking about the very real possibility that one or both of them was going to fall asleep and she didn't care except she would probably be angry about red wine stains on her couch in the morning, but she didn't care enough to disturb them from exactly how they were and then the fucking trucks showed up, so goddamn loud and unexpected that she actually jumps and almost spills her wine anyway.
He chuckles softly as he takes her glass from her, placing it next to his on the end table. "I thought you were asleep." His voice is soft and deep and he sounds half asleep too.
"I almost was." And she hadn't been because she'd been too wide awake trying to memorize everything about the evening, but she would have happily drifted off to sleep eventually and just as happily woken up in the morning without either of them having moved.
The grating sounds of the trucks are louder as they approach and she hates them, resents their existence, and wishes she could rewind thirty seconds to the utter bliss she'd been experiencing. But then she notices that without their wine glasses, they both have a free hand and his fingers are caressing the backs of her and without even thinking about it, her hand is lifting up, her fingers sliding up his palm, his fingers lacing between hers. He's no more inclined to move than she is and she wonders why she is fine with this much intimacy with absolutely clear intention and affection and desire and yet is still afraid to speak it.
His phone beeps and she hears his unhappy sigh when he has to let go of her hand to pull it from his pocket. She's not prying, but it's right there and he's not trying to hide it, so she glances at it and feels the sting of guilt when she sees Eli's message about how worried Bernie is and asking when he's going to be home.
The thought of Bernie and Eli looking for him and being worried while undoubtedly knowing where he is and probably suspecting something far more salacious than snuggling is the reason for the delay makes her sit up. She feels the chill immediately at the loss of his body heat and she decides to resent both the plows and Elliot's phone for interrupting the peaceful resolution of the uneasy meal and what promised to be the most restful sleep she'd ever had.
She notices Elliot hasn't replied to the message and she wonders why, except she knows why, he's trying to decide what to do and she wants him to stay, but it would be teasing him and misleading them and so she reminds herself to be happy with what she has, which as of this evening is even more promising than she'd ever expected, and stands up. She wants to say something, to tell him it's ok for him to go, but she doesn't want to make it sound like she's asking him to leave and she wishes she could hurry up to the point where they can just talk and say what they mean and not have to worry about double and triple meanings behind everything. She moves back to the window and sees the relatively cleared street and the snow that's still coming down, though not nearly as heavily as before.
"I should probably go." His voice is close behind her and she wonders how she didn't notice his approach since she's usually so very aware of where he is. His hand brushes across her back and she knows he's waiting for an invitation and she wants to extend one, but she can't because she remembers all too clearly how weird everything felt at dinner just because he asked if he could kiss her so they're obviously not ready for sleepovers. She nods and leads the way to the door, watching while he pulls his coat on and steps over the threshold.
"I can swing by in the morning and drive you back to your car, if you want."
She's tempted by it, if only because she wants to see him again as soon as possible even though he hasn't even left yet. And then she remembers Noah's request and it seems like precisely the right time to mention it. "Noah asked if you and Eli would help him build a snowman."
There's a lot of emotion in his eyes when he smiles and she knows he gets it, that being invited into her son's life is as much of a challenge as being invited into hers and he's proud of himself for achieving that and satisfied that being successful in one likely means he'll be successful in the other. "I'll see you in the morning then."
"Good night, El."
"Night." He's not looking at her as he turns away, his attention on his phone, his fingers tapping away, most likely telling his family that he's on the way home and Olivia feels a pang of regret that it's true because she realizes she wants his home to be with her and all of a sudden it's very, very clear to her that the decision is entirely up to her and that the only reason they're spending their nights apart now is because she's making them and it doesn't have to be that way and he's already more or less asked if that can change already.
He's several feet down the hall when the epiphany occurs and she's startled by the distance between them because he's just too fucking far away. "Hey, El?"
He turns around, his attention still on his phone. "Yeah?"
She smirks, knowing she'll have his full attention in a second. "Yes."
His fingers stop abruptly, hovering over the phone while his eyes fix on hers. "Yes?"
She smiles, feeling more convinced of her decision every moment. "Yes."
He drops his phone into his coat pocket, but he doesn't move. "Yes as in now or yes as in someday?"
She desperately wants to say get your ass back here right fucking now but she shrugs instead, figuring he's earned the right to make that call since he was the one to find the courage to ask in the first place. "It's up to you."
The words are barely out of her mouth before he's closing the distance between them and his hands are at her waist and he's pulling her against him and they're even closer than they were on the couch and he's staring at her and she can't help smiling. He keeps searching her eyes, her face, and he finally voices what he's looking for. "Are you sure about this?"
Her hands are sliding up his chest and her fingers are knotting together behind his neck and she just can't stop grinning. "It wasn't really that hard of a decision."
His eyes narrow the slightest bit. "You wanted to see if I'd pressure you." He's not mad, he's just stating a fact and it's surprising to her that it's true, even though she really didn't know that had figured into it at all. She'd already thanked him for leaving it up to her, but some part of her had wanted to be sure, to know he wanted her and he wanted more, and seeing him follow her lead and respect her boundaries made the difference. She's ready to make the leap because she knows he'll catch her.
"And you didn't." She's started to understand how he felt all night, having put himself and his feelings out there, and she's leaning into him and she's beyond desperate because she really fucking meant it and instead he's still looking at her, looking for something, and she wishes he'd fucking look for it later and kiss her now.
"I've been waiting twenty-some years for this, Liv, I can wait a little longer if you aren't ready." There's something so vulnerable and true in his words that she wants to hug him, but she's distracted by how good it feels to be pressed against his chest while he's teasing her and she kind of wants to have all future discussions with him in this position.
She raises an eyebrow and decides to tease him back. "Twenty-some? Care to be more specific?"
His hands slide up her back, into her hair, his thumbs brushing across her neck. "How about since the day we met?"
And she knows it's true because the attraction has never been their problem. But now, they have the rest of it, the connection and the freedom and the certainty. She separates her hands and grabs hold of his collar, tugging him closer. "Well, then, maybe you shouldn't make me wait any longer, huh?"
He gives in to her pull, his face angling down, their foreheads pressing together and their noses bumping and he offers her one last chance to escape in a raspy whisper against her lips. "This is going to change things, Liv."
She grins against his mouth. "Finally."
Finally. It's the only thought that crosses her mind as his mouth presses against hers, his lips soft and gentle and moving over hers so slowly it's driving her insane, so insane that she's pulling him back into her apartment and kicking the door closed and he's resisting the slightest bit as though he really wasn't expecting her response, like maybe he was really anticipating having to wait and wait and wait, and she can't possibly explain that she understood, mid-kiss, that the problem isn't that they aren't ready it's that they've been ready forever and they've been creating all the confusion and misunderstandings and uncertainty and needless delays in their own minds and they'll be fucking fine if they're just honest with each other.
And somehow he manages to pull back, barely, and look into her eyes, and she can see the desire there but also the alarm, as though he's still afraid she's not sure or that he's misreading something, and she's too out of breath to explain herself and he's just going to have to read her and trust her and she grabs his face in both hands and looks him in the eye and answers all the questions he hasn't managed to ask.
"Yes."
Yes, she's ready. Yes, she's sure. Yes, she trusts him. Yes, she loves him. Yes, she wants him. And she knows he wants her and she wants to move forward because she had a glimpse of what it could be like for them when she was cradled against his chest and drifting off to sleep in his arms and she wants to have that be every night and she wants him to spoil Noah and she wants him to mean to her when he says he's going home.
Somehow, in a moment that lasts an eternity, when their eyes are locked on each other's, he gets the message and he agrees and he nods and he's mumbling yes back at her when their lips collide again. And then he's pushing her back against the wall and kissing her with all the fierce aggression and passion and pure fucking want she'd expected from him and this is right and exactly where they've always been destined to be and she's ok with it because she's never been so sure of anything as she is when she's standing next to him.
She decides, somewhere in the wee hours with Elliot snoring softly in her ear, that she's never going to mind the winter weather ever again because Elliot is going to be there to keep her warm all night and build a whole family of snowmen with their sons in the morning.
