Thankies to Lori for the thing... with the stuff.
It was monumentally different this time when she showed up on his stoop carrying a large canvas bag in one hand, clutching a six pack in the other.
Three, four, five years ago it would have been a casual detox; a bonding session, a friendship between two cops. Four years ago he could have helped the bag out of her hand without having to wonder if he'd touched her too softly or too quickly. Three years ago his stomach probably wouldn't have done that annoying flip-flop thing. Two years ago he might have been worried that she cracked a beer that fast.
And a year ago… she never would have ended up at his door a year ago.
They stood in his kitchen, each with a bottle in hand; Elliot sitting on the counter, Olivia leaning against the ledge in front of the microwave. There was meaningless chat, talk of the upcoming World Series, and some very off color jokes at Munch's expense.
Her smile was wonderfully easy in coming and when she pulled out the DiGiorno pizza and bent to pop it into the oven he actually bent with her, being the piggish man he knew he was, checking out the tightness of the curve of her behind.
"You checking out my ass, Stabler?" she asked over her shoulder, pausing in her movement to close the over door.
He should have laughed; it would have been the best route to go down. A simple smile and chuckle would have glazed right over the desperately hungry look in his eyes. "Yes," the voice that came out was not his; it was much deeper, thicker, wanton.
As Olivia's eyes went wide, she snatched up her bottle of beer and took a quick gulp. She caught the fumble and managed a slight, lopsided smile. "Good."
The scent of pizza filled the air in the kitchen and either it was the heat from the oven or something in the room had shifted to the 'severely disorienting' side of the scale. She watched his knuckles go white around the sea green of the bottle he was clutching a death grip. And the way she swallowed, so thickly, so totally, it made his mouth parch completely.
There was a buzz invading both of their brains and it had nothing to do with the alcohol was being consumed. Elliot swallowed just as slowly as she had, and they watched each other breathe for a few moments before their too-intense moment was interrupted.
"Hi dad," came the call through the front door, two types of equipment being dragged through the door. Olivia leaned over the counter to look through the doorway he happened to be looking through. Maureen dropped a load of field hockey gear on the floor and pressed her hair out of her face as Dickie pulled up the rear, lugging a hockey bag that was at least twice his size.
The two came trudging through into the kitchen, and to Elliot's surprise, were not shocked to see Olivia standing there.
"Hey guys," she said, tilting her head while genuine smile.
"S'up?" Kathleen murmured tiredly, moving past the two of them to grab a bottle of water from the fridge; but Elliot snagged her on the way and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Oh, pizza," she said distractedly, interest piqued for a moment, but then looked to her father and said, "Shower, then homework, then bed. If anyone calls, I'm dead." The teen smiled at Olivia once more and moved out of the room, leaving Elliot's son standing there looking withdrawn. "For real!" she shouted behind her, "Dead!"
The adults in the room shared a glance. "What's up Dickie?" Olivia queried, setting her beer down on the counter behind her, out of the line of sight. The boy shrugged.
"Nothing... I just got right wing and I wanted left," his shoulders slumped, but he too made his way to the refrigerator to grab something.
Elliot shrugged. "You still made the team though, and that's awesome, congratulations." Olivia offered the boy her congratulations as well, but Dickie just shrugged and swung the door open. He dug through until he withdrew clutching an apple juice. "I'm gonna go play some X Box." He dragged himself away, as Elliot called after him.
"I'll be up in an hour... shower, homework and sleep!" The boy mumbled something in return, to which Elliot followed, "You guys eat?" Liv smiled to herself and rocked back on her heels, admiring the strong line of his neck as he leaned forward to call out into the other room.
A distant voice called back, "She took me to a salad place... I'm good." Both detectives grimaced and returned to their original positions.
"No X Box!" the father in Elliot demanded, though he knew his son would disobey him.
And there they were, left alone again, the lovely tension of before having dissipated into awkwardness. There was a flicker of a smile that teetered on the edge of her mouth and she picked up the beer once more and hid her smile behind it. On the counter, he squirmed and then cleared his throat, pointing to the oven. "Probably done, yeah?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah," she drained the dregs of her beer and pointed at him. "You have to get it out."
"So you can check out my ass?"
Olivia said nothing, just peaked her brows at him, her face twisting into a ghost of something naughty. "Yeah, go with that," she pressed.
Once the pizza was placed on the stove and sliced, they took it into the living room and cleared the coffee table. "Alright, what are we watching?" Elliot bent and retrieved three DVDs off of the end table. "We got… Old School, Mystic River and Crash."
Her head to the side, Olivia gave him a look of startled amusement. "Oh give me a break!" came his plea. "I've been accused of being behind the times."
"Really now?" She chuckled, mocking him.
"That's it, we're watching Old School."
Grabbing a plate and a few slices, Olivia tossed herself down onto the couch, toeing off her shoes before he told her she could. For some reason, that warmed him, knowing that she felt comfortable enough to do so. He tilted his head and looked at her for a moment, watching her pull mushrooms off of her pizza to pop them into her mouth. The smile that climbed upon his lips was warm and slow in coming.
Once the DVD was safety circulating in the player, he took a seat on the sofa beside her, stuffing half of a slice into his mouth. Washing it down with a very good chug of his beer, Elliot relaxed back into the couch, propping his feet up on the table.
Everything after that was accidental. The way in which he had shifted over towards her sometime after Mitch-A-Palooza had wrapped up was by complete accident. The way she scooted over to him about halfway through, and didn't object when his hand slipped to rest on the front of her thigh. It was all a mishap.
They sat like that, together on the sofa, until the credits had run the entire way through. The wall clock ticked off the seconds between them as the screen went blue and the Sony logo popped up in place of a moving picture. The two of them stared at it until their eyes watered from the brash azure; then they stared some more.
The green of the DVD display glowed a brilliant midnight, but still, neither made the move to get up. Even when a yawn escaped the constricted confines of her throat, he didn't ask her if she wanted to leave… because he wanted her to stay.
An itch took up residence in his palm, causing him to rub it along the back of the couch, dangerously close to the nape of her neck. His arm was around her then and they were together, staring at his mint green walls and imagining what was beyond them, wondering if they saw the same thing.
Olivia hummed low in her throat, sleep clouding her mind, and turned to him with hooded eyes. "That was hilarious."
There was nothing for him to do but nod slowly, and gaze at her. The three beers had numbed a subtle part of his brain and had him reaching a hand out to tuck hair behind her head. "Mmm, yeah, it was," he agreed, fingers slipping to her temple as his eyes slipped gently closed.
"Elliot," she whispered, her head slipping down onto his shoulder, "What are you-"
"Shhh," he whispered back, his intent adamant in the dimness. "Just enjoy it for awhile."
And they both did, for a long while… until time was obsolete and the only thing that mattered was the sun cutting crisply through the November cold.