Elliot, to his credit, leaves her alone to process like she asked, texting her once just to say he was thinking of her and open to getting together whenever she was ready.

If she was ready.

Olivia's thought a lot about him, them, the last couple of days. If she's being completely honest, she's still reeling from the declarations that spilled so easily from his lips.

It's…a lot to handle.

But it's also incredibly validating; she's spent the last six months wondering where it all went wrong, if she completely idealized their partnership and how much they meant to each other.

And that time after Oregon when they'd been angry and tentative but more supportive and open with each other than they'd ever been — she'd felt their connection shifting, on the precipice of something life-altering, terrifying, but with so much potential if they could've just figured out how to shove aside the fear and communicate.

And then he went home back to his wife, and the world tilted again, leaving her nauseous, confused, and broken-hearted.

This particular moment in their history still aches sometimes when she's laying in bed at night unable to sleep, replaying a reel of their partnership over and over in her head. (Though she always stops it before it reaches the end, as she simply can't bear to relive that one again.)

So his confession that he knew what he'd done to them mends something inside her, makes it a little easier to breathe, to wake up in the morning.

Even if nothing more happens between them, it helps to know that she wasn't so desperate for a permanent fixture in her life that she'd concocted something false between them. She's always trusted her instincts — her gut rarely failed her in life — but he had always been the exception to everything, and she'd feared that was the case here, too.

But now? She's not exactly sure she's ready for more. Based on their little, um, couch rendezvous, she knows the sex between them would be mind-blowing, to say the least. But does she even know how to be anything other than his work partner or friend?

She's eviscerated every single relationship she's ever had, barely had one that was even a little serious in all the years she was partnered with Elliot. Though none of those relationships were with him, and she has a feeling that he is the exception here, too.

And is she really willing to give up the best orgasm she's had in her life when the two of them haven't even slept together yet? She's not an idiot.

Which is how she finds herself humming on her way to her desk on the morning of Christmas Eve, coffee in hand and a box of doughnuts for everyone (including a bear claw for Nick, the anti-donut cop) in the other.

"Someone's in a good mood," Nick teases. "Who are you and what have you done with my partner?"

Olivia narrows her eyes playfully. "You're a funny guy, Amaro," she deadpans. "Keep it up and you won't get the bearclaw I picked out especially for you." Olivia smirks, dropping the pastry bag onto his desk.

He grins, snagging the bag. "Thanks, Liv."

"Rollins, Munch, Fin," she calls, lifting the box in her hand. "I'm setting the donuts by the coffee so you better grab one before the unis get to 'em." She sets them down on the counter, grabbing a couple of napkins when she feels her phone buzz in her pocket.

She fishes it out of her coat pocket and unlocks the screen.

A text from Elliot. Merry Christmas Eve, Detective.

She smiles, flushing a little as her fingers smooth over the keys in thought.

"Amaro's right, are you feeling okay, Liv?" Munch asks, peering at her over his glasses as he swipes a glazed donut for himself.

Olivia winces and looks up from her phone. "Okay, I haven't been that bad, right?"

"That's a rhetorical question, right?" Fin chimes in as he joins them.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, feeling guilty. "I - "

Munch waves her off. "Don't worry about it, Liv. Besides, someone needed to fill in as the brooding one after Elliot left."

She throws him a glare but it's pure amusement, no malice. If Munch is busting her chops then he's not really mad at her.

"Speaking of, you and Stabler kiss and make up yet?" Fin asks, pouring himself a cup of coffee. She can't tell if that particular colloquial phrase was intentional or not, but she knows she and Elliot have never been, um, particularly subtle.

"We're… talking," Liv hedges carefully, not willing to share any more yet. Lest she jinx it.

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Munch tosses behind his shoulder with a smirk on his way back to his desk.

"All right," she warns, throwing a coffee stirrer at the back of his head.

Olivia turns back to Fin, curious as he looks thoughtful, like he has something to say.

"What is it?" she asks.

"You know I'm not the biggest fan of Stabler, Liv."

She cocks her head, amused. Maybe the understatement of the year. "Really, you?"

"But I know you guys really care about each other and I hope you're happy, no matter what you decide," Fin says, shrugging.

Olivia smiles. "Thanks, Fin."

"Just don't go too easy on him, huh?" He leans in. "Make the fool beg a little."

"Trust me, I'm not." She laughs, shaking her head as she walks away and turns her attention back to the device in her hand.

Merry Christmas Eve. She hesitates, biting her lip. I assume you've got plans with your kids tonight and tomorrow? I think I'm ready to talk when you've got time.

She's barely sat down in her chair before his next text comes through. Do you have plans tonight? I'm not seeing the kids until late tomorrow and I've got a little something for you.

Oh?

I sincerely hope there's nothing little about it, she types before she chickens out, her thumb sliding over the delete button. She'd like to maintain some air of mystery today.

She tries again. Christmas Eve with me?

His response is swift. No one else I'd rather spend it with.

A grin flirts at her mouth, but she tamps it down when she looks up to find Amaro watching her with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes, ducking her head as she returns to her phone. If you're sure. I should be outta here around 6.

I'll see you at your place at 7, Elliot replies.

Olivia sighs when she notes the time. It's only 8:30 now and she prays today flies by so she can talk to him and quell her anxiety once and for all.

"Benson, Amaro," Cragen calls from his office, holding up a slip of paper between his fingers. "Rape-murder in Chelsea."

She tries not to be too pleased that a crime scene is calling her name.

She fails.

Olivia ducks out a little early to brave the hellish Christmas Eve crowds as she schleps down to an ornament kiosk at Bryant Park. An idea sparked while she was riding in Nick's car on their way back to the precinct and she knows the tourist trap will have exactly what she's looking for.

It's perfect if Elliot's memory from 13 years ago is intact.

It's…lackluster if it isn't.

She slips into her apartment at twenty 'til 7, long enough to scrounge up a square of wrinkled wrapping paper and some scotch tape from her closet, wrap his present, change her clothes, and run a brush through her hair.

At 7 on the dot, her phone rings and it's him and she answers before she has a second to think about whether or not he's completely changed his mind and is calling to let her down.

"Hey," she answers.

"I'm not canceling," he says immediately and she bites her lip to stifle a laugh at how well he knows her. "I'm just downstairs. Can you come let me in?"

She frowns, looking down at her sock- and shoe-less feet. "Why can't I just buzz you in?"

"Remember I said I had a little something for you?"

"Yes," she replies slowly, curious.

"That may have been the wrong adjective," he admits with a chuckle. "I need help with the door."

"Elliot, what did you do?" she asks.

"Just come down, Liv. I'm not spoiling the surprise."

She rolls her eyes, already walking to the door so she can slide her feet into her sneakers. "I'll be right down."

"Elliot," she greets him, eyes wide in surprise as she takes in the Christmas tree bundled up next to him, propped against the railing.

"Merry Christmas, Liv," he says softly. His smile is wide, brimming, and his eyes are so blue, crinkled in mirth and her face grows warm as she wonders if he's always looked at her this way and she's just never noticed before.

"I can't believe - I mean, you shouldn't…I - " she splutters out.

"I don't know if you know how hard it is to track down a decent tree on Christmas Eve, but this is nonrefundable, Benson."

"Oh, does this gift come with a side of guilt?" she deadpans, opening the door wider so he can maneuver the damn thing inside.

Which he does with a surprising amount of ease.

"There's no guilt," he counters gently, propping the tree against the wall so he can wrap an arm around her, tugging her into his body. It's tentative and she knows he's hesitating because he doesn't know for sure that tonight will go in his favor. "Just something I wanted to do."

She allows herself to relax, sinking into his embrace. "Thank you," she says quietly, tamping down the emotion that clogs her throat.

"You're welcome." He presses a swift kiss to her head and drops his arms. "Now," he starts, a frown forming as his gaze shifts around the lobby. "I could've sworn this was an elevator building."

She snorts. "You're kidding, right?" Off his look - "Wait, you can't be serious. How many times have you been here?"

Elliot shrugs. "You only live on the third floor and I need the exercise." He pats his stomach for effect.

She laughs incredulously. "Anyone ever tell you that you can be wildly unobservant for a cop?"

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. "Unfortunately, that would not be the first time I've heard that."

Olivia shakes her head, in disbelief sometimes that the man in front of her is the one she loves. "Come on, Detective." She nudges him with her shoulder. "I'll help you lug this thing upstairs."

"You do have a tree stand right?" he asks her after they lean it against a corner in her living room.

She winces. "Probably."

"Probably?"

"Give me a break," she huffs over her shoulder as she pads to her hall closet. "I had a fake one for awhile, but I had to throw it away last year after it started resembling Charlie Brown's."

She pulls out several boxes — including the Christmas decorations and ornaments she'd shoved back in last week and has now set aside — before she comes up victorious. It's certainly seen better days since its time being relegated to the dusty corners of her burgeoning closet, but it'll do.

Elliot, she notices, has been…busy. He's cut the fastenings from the tree and has moved on to her decorations while a fake Yule log displays on her television and Christmas music filters through her radio.

She lifts an eyebrow as she surveys the room. "Have you finished decking my halls yet, detective?"

He lets out a raucous laugh from his spot at the window and she realizes all too late how that sounded coming out of her mouth. A beaming Elliot turns around, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "I'll never be done decking your halls, Benson."

She rolls her eyes, willing her cheeks to stop blushing. "I found the tree stand," she says, holding it up as she tries very hard to ignore his little suggestive comment.

"Perfect." He claps his hands, rubbing them together. "You wanna help me set it up and then we can order some dinner and start on the ornaments?"

She blinks. "You want to decorate it, too?"

He looks at her like she's grown two heads. "You can't have a bare tree, Olivia."

"Says who?" she asks defensively. She doesn't care, not really, but having a little harmless fight with him again has a certain charm.

"Santa Claus," he replies gravely.

"You are so full of shit," she laughs with the shake of her head. "Now let's do this. I'm starving."

Their pizza arrives just before they're putting the last ornament on the tree and stepping back to admire their handiwork.

This just might be the best tree Olivia's ever had — actually, no matter how the rest of tonight turns out, this might just be the best Christmas she's ever had.

She swallows a lump in her throat. "Thank you for this, Elliot." She gently grabs his hand, squeezing it in hers before she lets it go.

His warm, calloused hand slides up to the back of her neck, massaging a knot he finds there. "You're welcome." He smiles, his gaze finding hers. "Pizza?"

She hesitates. "Actually, I have something for you, too."

His eyes brighten. "You do?"

"Yeah," she confirms. "It's just something small, but - " she breaks off with a little shrug, reluctantly sliding away from his touch to grab his gift from the kitchen counter.

He accepts it gratefully before he tears into it like a kid on Christmas. She sucks in a breath watching him open it, nervous that she's missed the mark, that he won't get it, that he'll be disappointed and she won't know how to explain -

"Olivia." Elliot expels, in awe. "I can't believe - " He shakes his head. "After all this time - " He breaks off again, emotional, and her eyes fall to the work of his throat as he swallows roughly.

His eyes are shiny when he finally looks at her and he laughs in spite of himself, scrubbing a hand at his chin. "I didn't think you had the one I gave you anymore. I didn't see it with the others."

"Oh," Olivia breathes out in realization. "That's just because I, um, keep it in its original box." She ignores how embarrassing that admission seems as she steps around him, hunting for the small box she knows she saw earlier when she was removing things from her closet.

She finds it quickly, nestled on its own between the now-empty box of ornaments and a tub of ribbon. "Here it is."

She opens the box and pulls out the ornament he'd given her all those years ago when she'd spent Christmas with his family. She holds it out in her hand and if possible, his smile widens even more when he sees it again, that old photo of the two of them and "Our First Christmas."

He looks down at the nearly identical one in his hand — sans the photo — and his brow wrinkles in confusion. "There's no photo?"

"Uh, n-no, not yet," she stammers, her face growing warm. "Since we're, well, you and I are - and I just thought, um - "

Olivia knows the exact moment he gets it because he's smirking and crossing his arms while he waits for her to continue making a fool of herself, the arrogant bastard —

"Elliot," she warns.

"All right, all right," he relents with a laugh, lifting his hands to cradle her jaw. He softens, quieting, as he eliminates the space between them.

"You and I?" he asks seriously, searching her face.

"Yeah," she whispers, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She wants this, God she wants this so fucking much.

His face lights up with the intensity of a thousand suns and then he's kissing her, grinning into her mouth, a hand buried in her hair as the other one drifts down the curve of her spine to slip into the back pocket of her jeans, squeezing gently.

She moans in surprise and presses herself against him, and fuck, how does he light her on fire so goddamn quickly?

But she just has to — oh that feels good — one thing -

She breaks away from his mouth, a little breathless as she tilts his head in her hands so he'll look her square in the eye. "But I swear to God, Elliot, if you ever pull this shit on me again, I will personally cut your balls off myself."

He groans, kissing her again. "Is it insane that I kind of want you to say that again?" he scrapes out. "You're so hot when you're angry." His lips glide across her cheek to her ear, tugging gently with his teeth.

"I'm serious," she breathes out, eyes slamming shut as his tongue — fuck —

"I know, Liv." His hot breath falls on her cheek and she shivers, scraping her nails against his shoulders. He takes a beat then, resting his nose against her cheek.

"Never again, Olivia," he swears. "I can't ever lose you."

"Okay." She nods, sighing as she lets his words wash away (most of) her lingering doubts. That was all she needed to hear tonight.

Well, that and —

He pulls back, his gaze heady, heavy on hers as his thumb brushes against her lip. "I want you."

Fuck, yeah, she definitely wants to hear that, too.

She opens her mouth, catching the skin of his thumb gently with her teeth, watching intently as his eyes darken, his lips parting. Her hand skims down his chest, over the button of his jeans until she's got the length of him trapped in her palm, and she's the one smirking now, peering up at him under her lashes.

"Then take me."

He growls, crashing his mouth down to hers as they begin their quick stumble to her bedroom. Somewhere in the back of her mind — between the tweak of her nipple and his near-trip over her hallway end table — it occurs to her that they still have a pizza waiting for them on the counter.

But, screw it.

She'd rather devour him, anyway.

Two rounds and five slices of pizza between them later, she lays naked and draped over his chest, sated and a little sleepy.

"Hey, do you have a camera in here?" he asks.

She wrinkles her forehead in confusion, twisting her head to look at him. "For what?"

"To take a photo of us for my ornament." He's teasing but he's not, all flirty and completely shameless.

Olivia laughs, slapping him gently on the chest before she snuggles back down, nuzzling her face into his neck. God, he's already made her soft. "You are not putting a naked photo of us on your Christmas tree, Elliot," she mumbles into his skin.

His chest rumbles with laughter as his hand rubs her back in soothing, rhythmic circles. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

She hums, blissfully ignoring him as she feels herself drifting off. "Merry Christmas, El."

His lips graze her forehead. "Merry Christmas, Liv."

Complete. Thank you so much for reading!