Thanks Lauren. Thank you READERS! ... for, you know, reading.
There would be no fancy dinner, it just wasn't their style. Not that either one of them didn't enjoy a nice night on the town.
In fact, he'd taken her out numerous times, to the theater, to the ballet, to dinners of which the expense made his credit cringe.
But then again, she went to lengths to make him happy too. She'd snagged a pair of seats right above the dugout for a Yankees, Red Sox game and had spared no expense in keeping them supplied with hot dogs and popcorn and beer.
And she'd cheered just as hard as he had for the visiting team, the two of them accruing more than enough boos from the crowd.
And she'd taken him hiking upstate, played frisbee with him in the park, walked with him along 5th Avenue and listened him to point out all of the things he wanted to buy for her.
But tonight, no... that wouldn't be fancy. Because really... fancy wasn't his forte. Genuine was his thing and he figured asking her to take a walk with him was just as good as dropping a hundred on escargot and fancy wine. Luckily, he knew he was right, basically because he knew her, so when he slid her arm through his and took off in the direction of the Upper East Side he couldn't have felt more at ease.
He wanted to ask her if she felt like there were certain moments leading up to this point; he wanted to ask her if she knew like he knew that tonight was the night... but he didn't. He simply let Olivia linger by his side, sharing with him an old, old story from when she was a rookie. He let her speak and as he did so, he took the liberty of just watching her, watching her mouth move to form beautiful words that he almost forgot to hear.
At a particularly unbelievable point in the story Elliot had perked up enough to mutter a, "You're shittin' me," but had fallen back into silence as she had asserted the truth of her statement and had continued with the story. They way they walked together, the synchronicity that they found in one another's steps was truly startling. Their hips never jostled and they never fumbled, they just walked, some sort of harmony blooming to complete fruition between then.
"Think we should head back?" Elliot put forth, and she paused in her speech and looked at him. A small smile bloomed on her lips as she tilted her face up to both him and the light. Honey-dipped street light poured over her face, creating the most delicate shadows.
He was ensorcelled. "Sure, let's go."
But before they could go, before they could reverse the direction of their walking, he bent down and kissed her, softly, surely, kissed her as he hadn't before. Elliot kissed her with all of the care he knew he possessed, one hand delicately cupping the back of her head lest a fissure form and she fall to a million pieces.
Little did he know that she was already falling, fractioned into a million, sweet pieces all around him. Their lips were pliant as they shifted and admitted the other, and Olivia felt another one of those annoying bubbles of happiness well up in her chest. Pulling apart with a little gasp, her head remained in the protective grasp of his palms. "Elliot, are you going to take me to bed tonight?"
A bright, rumble of a laugh surpassed his own happy-bubble, and he dropped his hands to grab on of hers, toying with the fingers before twining them together. "Taking you to bed or, 'taking you to bed'?" he asked, nervous for her answer, nervous for his as well. But tonight, it still genuinely felt like the night.
"Either would be fine," she sighed in a light voice before allowing it to drift into a smokier tone, "But I was hoping for the latter."
"That was not romantic at all!" he laughed, tugging her a bit more into his body as they rounded another block, slowing their steps as they approached her building; whether it was their nerves or the simple seduction of their steps on the pavement, the two so utterly alone together amongst the livelihood of the city.
"You wanted to be romantic?" she gasped, mock shocked as she yanked on his arm, laughing.
But Elliot slowed even more, trailing his feet to a stop as Olivia moved herself in front of him, brow furrowing in confusion. His eyes were to the sky when she looked up to search his face. "El, what's up?"
"Naw, nothing," he began, his tone slightly sheepish. He hadn't had to do this, in well... nearly twenty years. His first time with Kathy had been an odd combination of fumbling, laughing and swearing as they maneuvered their way around the back of Elliot's pickup. This time, no amount of intimate planning should have been spared, but he didn't quite know how to go about getting them there. He just knew, just felt that thing in the air, that spark, that something that meant, tonight... was the night. "I just... wanted it to be... something."
Her lips twitched up in a smile and she hummed something like a, "Yeah?"
"I don't know, let's just… get you home," and he'd tried so desperately to keep the sigh out of the end of his statement, but it wheedled its way in none the less. But out of nowhere, nowhere at all, he looked to the sky again and said, "I do love you Olivia."
And while there was shock from the words he'd uttered, she just felt like she'd known. She'd known way back when, when she hadn't wanted to know; to hear him say the words was really secondary, but a milestone that had to be marked.
"I know," came the honest reply. "I love you too," Olivia said on a sigh, snuggling into his side when he twined an arm around her waist and pulled her back in step with him.
Elliot sighed dramatically, "I know." He laughed then, and grabbed her hips as she started up the steps before him. "You have…" he trailed off into nothingness, waiting for her to peer at him over her shoulder. When she did, he winked and licked his lips, "An amazing ass," he finished.
The laugh Olivia let loose was carefree and it made his skin flush and the hair on the back of his neck perk up. He took the stairs two at a time and caught up with her at the outer door. "Elliot, I-" but she couldn't finish her sentence because his lips were on her, tongues seeking each other out as hands roamed over cotton, needing to get at skin.
Her keys dangled at her side as she clutched at his hips, clawing at the denim-encased muscle. His thumbs pressed at her cheeks, slid over the skin there in thinly veiled desperation. "Liv, inside?" he gasped around her eager mouth.
Nodding, her shaky fingers fumbled with the keys, eventually inserting the key into the lock, allowing them purchase into the first floor foyer. Olivia scaled the stairs quickly, glancing back at him only briefly to make sure he was hurrying quickly behind.
Immediately inside, she shed her light coat, allowing it to fall to the floor as she spun around and pushed his jacket off of his shoulders too. His leather joined her cotton and they nearly stumbled over it, on their way to the counter.
Elliot laughed as they both reached for the buttons on her blouse at the same time. Her hands fell away as he worked her out of the top, gracing the revealed skin with sloppy kisses that elicited clipped groans from her. His shirt went next and though she paid him equal attention, he couldn't help but allow a few laughs to slip past his lips at her ticklish nips.
By the time they had made it to the bedroom, Olivia had bright red marks on the backs of her thighs from bumping into various articles of furniture. Their pants became tangled as each tried to kick them off in haste.
His boxers were green and her panties were some shade of mango; they clashed completely so it surprised the hell out of them when they came to fit together so well. "Jesus, Ol-Liv-"
"Shut up," she whispered and bucked into him. That was when his eyes slid closed and he thanked whomever for all the screaming matches, all the friendly dinners, all the beers, all the nights sitting, talking, surveilling. He was grateful for it all and made sure to whisper that to her as he began moving.
The sentiments spoken in the dark were heard as if spoken in the most bright of rooms, their meaning, their intent crystal in the dimness. Slickened skin slipped over the skin of the other and they both cherished the ease with which they fell to the sheets afterwards, sated and sweaty.
Somehow, his hand found hers in the tumult of limbs and sheets. The beating of his heart was so loud in his ears, he had to ask her to repeat herself when she spoke. "I said," she spoke, just a tad breathless, "That I'm going to be sore in the morning."
Of course she would crack a joke, of course. But the way her hand tightened around his and the manner with which her leg slid over his reminded him of the actual weight of the moment.
And that's how they stayed for the longest time, holding hands and breathing, allowing their world to stop spinning and right itself again while the rest of New York went right on spinning.