This case is finally winding down. Olivia walks into her office and lets out a breath so thick it must have originated deep in her gut. As the air leaves her body, she can feel her muscles finally relax, from the brick-like weight that had been resting on her shoulders down to the base of her back. She goes to her coffee pot and pours herself a small cup. It's almost four in the afternoon on a Friday and she knows that caffeine at this time of day is frowned upon, but damnit, she deserves this. The liquid is hot and calming going down her throat. She lowers herself down at her desk and gently rubs her temples in the quiet peacefulness of her office.
It is always exhausting when a case that lands on her desk leads them to another jurisdiction. Just over a week ago, a missing little girl led them to a suspect with ties in a Chicago missing child case. Chicago PD had been working on lead after lead but was unable to find the victim or the suspect. When Sergeant Voight contacted her directly, stating that he saw the national news of a missing child in NY and that it shared many similarities with a case of their own, she had instantly invited he and his team into their precinct.
The teamwork paid off, as it usually does, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't see her squad of detectives on the verge of collapse. Finn, even in his endless loyalty, couldn't hide his desperate need to go home to his not-wife. And she knows for a fact that as soon as Amanda finished her paperwork, she was on her way home to her girls and Carisi. Even Volasco bounced on impatient feet and hurried words when he had triple-checked if she needed anything else from him before he left. She knows how they feel and had insisted they all go. Just go, go home, sleep, eat, shower, binge-watch Hell's Kitchen or go out and socialize. She just wanted them to go, enjoy themselves in any way.
They deserved it. So do you, a quiet voice in the very back of her head whispers. She silences it immediately. She briefly wonders if Sergeant Voight and his team have already made their way back to Chicago, comparable in their fatigue.
She and Hank Voight have history and mutual respect. She thinks her cheeks warm a bit as she thinks about just what kind of history they share. She couldn't deny her physical attraction to him if she wanted to. Hank Voight, with his brash tendencies and hot-headed attitude. Hank Voight, with his heavy hands that have cracked bones and tore flesh but carry nothing but soft and eager exploration when they touch her.
Yes- he is arrogant, temperamental, and proud. But he is also handsome, tough, and very skilled at giving her flirtatious smirks that she cannot ignore. Once in Chicago and once here in her city, they had met one another in a hotel room, shared a drink, and jumped each other like sex deprived teenagers. He was good to her, attentive and solid on top of her and in between her legs. They shared an unspoken agreement built on mutual trust, attraction, and endearment and an understanding that the relationship wouldn't grow beyond this. She briefly thinks of her history with arrogant, temperamental, and proud men. It seems she has a type- Brian, Ed, Hank, Elliot…
Elliot. He might be the most arrogant, the most hot-headed, but he is hers.
They have yet to kiss, yet to be intimate. But they have come a long way since his abrupt return to her life. He makes an effort to speak to her every day, shares his feelings freely in a way that makes her envious. She hasn't been able to open up to him much yet, but she thinks he knows her better than anyone else in the world, and he already knows how she feels. He's been building a relationship with Noah, and she can physically feel that he will kiss her. Soon. The mere thought makes butterflies flutter in her belly.
So when Hank lightly knocks on her door, she already knows she will be rejecting him soon enough. He strolls into her office dressed casually in dark jeans and a leather jacket, confidence radiating from him in waves. He's lucky she likes him.
"Good work today Captain." He gruffs out in his signature coarseness. He sits in the seat across from her. "Can I buy you a drink?" Straight to the point and so predictable, she thinks.
She returns his charming grin and pretends to think about it. She adores this man, enjoys his company, even. But she knows what he is asking.
Let me buy you dinner, and get you warm and tipsy, and press you up against the wall.
But it is Friday, and she already has plans.
"We couldn't have done it without the help of your team, Sergeant." She flashes him an apologetic smile, "but I'm sorry… I have plans." She knows he will read between the lines.
"Hm." He eyes her closely and she looks down. Her cheeks feel a little warm. "I'm sorry to hear that." He adds, "I was hoping to spend some quality time with you." And if she weren't already in-love with her arrogant bastard, his rough and welcoming tone would probably be enough to coax her into submission.
She cannot hold back her smirk. "Hank, I'm unavailable."
"Tonight? Or always?"
She ponders his question… is Elliot going to be her always?
Her head nods slowly when she realizes that she really hopes so, "I hope always."
Hank looks down with a little, yet sincere, smirk and plays with his fingers. "I'm happy for you Olivia. You deserve someone, deserve an always." There is a gentle lull in conversation. "Listen," he continues, "I don't leave until Monday, I have some plans but maybe you have some free time Sunday for a cup of coffee…" He smirks, "an innocent cup of coffee?" He adds for clarity, and she lets out a giggle.
"Is there such a thing as an innocent cup of coffee with you Sergeant Voight?" She stands up and walks to her office door, opening it for him.
"I suppose not Captain Benson." He reaches out his hand and she's about to complete the handshake when she sees Elliot walk out of the elevator with a bouquet of flowers and her heart speeds up at his presence.
Her partner doesn't hesitate to approach them, eyes studying Voight up and down from across the precinct before meeting her eyes. He's striding over to them, looking sexy as ever in his three-piece suit and 5 o'clock shadow.
Here we go, she thinks. She takes a half-step away from Voight, looks at her feet, and pushes a piece of hair behind her ear as Elliot steps into their space. They are an odd acute triangle standing at her office door and she is infinitely grateful her team has gone home already. Elliot holds the bouquet in his left hand and his right hand comes up to meet Hank's.
"Elliot Stabler." He states with all the masculinity he can muster, his back straight as a pin.
Hank briefly glances over at Liv with a certain mischievousness dancing in his eyes, her cheeks pretty with an embarrassed blush.
He sneers a smug thing before grasping Elliot's hand with equal machismo, "Sergeant Hank Voight, Chicago PD." They hold tense eye contact, both puffing out their chests, until Liv's forced cough breaks their handshake. While Hank turns his body back toward Olivia, Elliot continues to examine this intruder in her office.
"Sergeant Voight and his team have worked closely with us on multiple occasions over the years. He's a dear friend." She attempts to end this awkward engagement with half-assed truths.
"Yes. A very dear friend." Voight adds with purposeful flattery and Olivia's neck feels hot. Hank raises a hand to caress her bicep before tipping a nod toward Elliot. "Your hopefully always?" He asks her with a sweet smile on his face. He's unquestionably teasing her.
Now her entire body feels warm and she's letting out a nervous laugh and shaking her head in incredulity. Hank squeezes her arm and leans in to kiss her on the cheek. "Until next time Captain Benson, stay safe out there."
"You too, Hank." And then he's leaving her and Elliot alone in her office. For a moment, you could hear a pin drop.
"Those for me?" She tries to break the tension by acknowledging the forgotten bouquet being crushed in his fist.
"Maybe…" He huffs out, "what was that?"
"What? "Just feign innocence, she thinks.
"Hank? What kind of name is that… Chicago? Really Olivia?" He spits out in the most characteristic, timeless Elliot Stabler spiel of possessive jealousy she's ever seen.
And God, she missed him.
He walks around her to put the flowers on her desk.
"You two have more than worked together, haven't you?" He turns back toward her. The expression on his face looks more like he is bracing for physical impact rather than a piece of her life during their decade long drought.
She opens her mouth to answer before "-you know what, I don't want to know. I don't like him." And he looks uneasy rather than boastful and she won't have that. As much fun as it is to see him sweat, to know he gets physically uncomfortable thinking about her with someone else, she's had enough of it, for tonight, at least.
"Elliot…" She takes a couple of steps toward him. "You're right, we do have history…" He's getting red in his face and she could laugh at his look of pure loathing. "But when he came by my office to ask me out for drinks, I told him I already had plans." His blue eyes meet hers.
"He was on his way out when you came into my office ready to brawl." She adds with a little smirk and takes another step toward him. Only a foot between them, now.
She can see the stiffness leaving his body as a small smile graces his gorgeous face. He's softening, tentatively reaching for her hand.
"He's going back to Chicago?" he asks with every ounce of seriousness in his arsenal. She laughs.
"Jesus, El. What? Are we suddenly back in 2009? Christ." She's looking at her feet again and can feel his body closing the space between them.
When she meets his gaze again, his face holds the cocky leer of victory she has known and loved for over two decades.
"They are for you… by the way." The fucking bouquet. One steady hand of his pushes her hair off her shoulder while the other one goes to her elbow and tugs her the rest of the way into him.
He makes her chuckle, again, before she buries her face into the crook of his neck and finds utter peace in his embrace. The anxiety of the last few days seeps out of her body. Being wrapped up in Hank Voight was fun, light, and easy in a way that held no consequences, no pressure, no expectations. He doesn't know her secrets, her dark history, her fears. Elliot knows her. He knows every buried horror, every insecurity, has singlehandedly torn her apart and put her back together. There is no hiding from Elliot Stabler, no matter how hard she tried.
"You're ridiculous." She whispers into his skin. He smells good, she thinks, like a soft blend of sandalwood and mint. She's forgotten about their plans to eat dinner at the Thai restaurant near her apartment, feeling completely at-ease here in her office, wrapped up in him.
He's running his palms up and down her back, her sides. "You make me ridiculous." He taunts back. And she thinks he's telling the truth. This man has never been able to resist the urge to puff his shoulders and figuratively tell every potential boyfriend of hers to fuck off. He is possessive and where anyone else with this characteristic would be an instant turn-off, with Elliot, she feels at home, secure, wrapped in his greedy arms.
He pulls away from her but doesn't let go of her hand. "Come on captain. We have plans."
He grabs her winter jacket, her bag, and her phone. Flips the light switch and guides her out of her office. She follows him, her hopefully always, out into the cold winter evening and as they walk to the restaurant, he can't help himself. "So… how many times have you been to Chicago?"
Finish.