Today has been one of the most beautiful days Olivia can recall. Almost like the universe had decided to gift her this day with the single most peaceful Saturday she couldn't have painted up herself. The news stations had been warning the city about the present heatwave for the past few days, so she and Noah had agreed on a Saturday spent at Rockaway Beach. She'd woken up this morning to the sun beaming through the apartment windows and brewed herself a cup of coffee while she'd packed their things. Sunscreen, beach towels, lunch and beverages, Noah's boogie board, and some books.

They'd spent the entire afternoon in the sand. Noah running in and out of the ocean water screaming "Mom! Watch this one!" as he throws his body onto the boogie board and rides the waves with a jubilant innocence that takes her breath away. He's so happy, and Olivia is reminded today and every day how she would do anything in the world to keep her baby boy's face lit up like the June sun.

Many layers of sunscreen later, she gets a severe thunderstorm warning on her phone. A line of severe weather currently moving its way over Ohio and into Pennsylvania, heading straight for New York City and expected to hit in about two and a half hours. She looks up at the clear blue sky and takes three deep breaths. Olivia doesn't consider herself much of a beach bum, but today the salty smell of the Atlantic Ocean and the summer breeze knotting her hair makes her feel damn-near euphoric. She's always loved when a gorgeous summer day ends with a roaring thunderstorm, bringing with it petrichor and a chill to battle with the humidity.

She starts packing her and Noah's things and tries to get his attention. She doesn't want to be driving them back through heavy rain and lightning and he has sleepover plans at a friend's house tonight. They make their way back to the car, stopping at an ice cream truck on their way. Liv is texting Noah's friend's mom and informing her that they are on their way when she gets an incoming text from Elliot.

The undercover assignment is officially tied up. Paperwork included.

Followed by, Come over tonight? Celebrate with an expensive bottle of red?

And those damn butterflies that only seem to flutter when Elliot is involved start circling around her stomach. She puts her phone back down and starts driving. The sound of Noah's sweet voice quietly singing along to the music acting as the soundtrack to her chaotic thoughts.

Her and Elliot have kept in-touch as best as they could the past few months as his case with Donnelly and the brotherhood came to a close. It hadn't been much, but each phone call and text message reminded her that he was still here.

They have been balancing on her carefully drawn friends-for-now line and she can no longer ignore the evidence her mind and body have collected on her feelings for Elliot. She's in-love with him. In-love with his stubborn arrogance, his blue eyes, and his sweet smile. In-love with his obvious shyness steeped in nerves when he flirts with her, and the way he talks to his mother. In-love with Elliot Stabler the father, the cop, the man. She always has been. She couldn't have him back then but there is nothing stopping them now. Nothing but Olivia's many fears.

This idealized relationship is hanging over you, prevents you from true intimacy Olivia, either with him or anyone else.

Her brain plays mind games on her, flips back and forth from he loves you too and go for it to he'll never want you this way, he'll leave you again. The hot and cold of her thoughts suffocate her. Why would Elliot be romantically attracted to her? She's nothing like the younger detective he once connected so well with. She's darker now, scarred and bruised. She's untrusting and married to her work. She comes with a child and a lot of baggage. A relationship with Olivia is a relationship with her traumatic past. Doesn't Elliot have enough emotional baggage in his life? Why would he want more? She looks older now, rounder at the hips and more little wrinkles around her eyes. Olivia knows herself to be a beautiful woman, but Elliot has only gotten sexier, stronger, more solid in his arms and somehow even more handsome in his face. She saw Flutura and Angela Wheatley. He could get whoever he wanted. Why in the hell would he choose her?

You and I have talked a lot about what you want, what you need. I'd like you to start thinking about something else. What you deserve. You deserve happiness, Olivia Benson.

They've reached Noah's friend's home and she pulls off to the side, turns on the blinkers and gets out of the car. After saying goodbye to her boy and watching him walk up the stoop, "I love you mom!" He yells as he goes inside. She blows him a kiss and looks down at herself. She's wearing a loose white jumpsuit. The fabric is thin, almost thin enough to see right through. The tank top straps rest loosely over her, now dried, bathing suit covered chest. Her toes are painted a light blue that she can see peeking out of her flip flops. She has not an ounce of makeup on her face, and she smells like sunscreen. She looks at her reflection through the menu and pulls her hair into a low bun, some strands framing her face. She looks a mess, but she doesn't want to go home. She knows if she goes home and showers, she'll talk herself out of seeing him before she even tries to get back into the car.

Taking a deep breath, she decides to ignore her self-deprecating thoughts. The universe has given her this beautiful day, she's not going to let herself ruin it.

You deserve happiness, Olivia Benson.

"Finally. Can be there in 35 minutes?" She hits send before she can talk herself out of it and his response is immediate.

"I'll be in the garden," he says. When she pulls back out onto the road, the butterflies continue their dance.

When he hears the gate to his patio open, he stands up from his seat a little too quickly to greet her. His leg has been bouncing with nervous excitement for the past hour. He's missed her something fierce. The delicate dance they've been doing is coming to a head. She was using his undercover status as a reason to hold him at a distance, and he understands. Really, he does. He's a lucky son of a bitch that she's decided to give him any of her time at all after everything he's put her through.

But he is so tired of their restrained dance. He is tired of holding back words and touches. And he thinks that if he doesn't make a move soon, like today, he will combust. If he doesn't make a move soon, he's going to lose her. Losing her is not an option.

When he finally gets to see her, he damn near swallows his tongue. She's equal parts utterly adorable and dangerously sexy dressed in white. Her flowy outfit fits her like a glove around her breasts, where he can see a hint of cleavage that leaves his pants feeling a little too tight. Her hair is pulled back in a messy, low bun at the back of her neck and the loose strands around her face have his fingers twitching. She's the prettiest woman he's ever seen with her sun kissed skin and the freckles on her face. She has the slightest bit of sunburn on her shoulders and her nose and he feels a massive grin takeover his face at the sight of her.

She must take the smile on his face as amusement rather than admiration because then she's gesturing toward herself and saying, "Noah and I had a beach day… I just dropped him off at a friend's for a sleepover and came right here."

She looks shy, which is not an adjective he would've thought to use in describing captain Benson. But this Olivia, Saturday evening, off-the-job, childless Olivia Benson appears shy, like she isn't sure of her place here with him.

"You look sun kissed, Liv." He's busying his hands with pouring them both a glass of wine when he tests the waters with, "maybe next time, I'll get invited to the Benson beach day." He smirks at her and he's desperate to break the tension. He can feel her nerves rolling off of her in waves.

"Liv…" He holds both glasses of wine in his hands and nods toward the two seats off to the corner of the garden. "It's okay, come sit…"

The incoming thunderstorms can be felt in the air. The humidity is thick, even with the breeze bristling the leaves on the trees and Olivia's hair. The sky is almost fully covered in gray clouds, but it hasn't started raining yet. Just the faint sound of thunder still off into the distance. She gives him a soft smile and sits down beside him, takes her glass of wine out of his hand.

"So…" she starts, takes a sip. "The op is officially over. What's next?" She's leaned back in her chair, head resting against the back of it. She's looking at him and he knows she's asked him a question, but he is insanely distracted by those freckles, her soft lips, the scent of her that the breeze keeps bringing to his nose. A mixture of sunscreen and whatever shampoo she last used.

"Elliot?"

Coughing, he brings himself back to the moment. "No more undercover jobs. That's first." He takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair, too.

"I want to be more present. I need to be at home. Here with Eli and mama." He takes a sip and looks her directly in her eyes.

"That's good, El… that's really good." She utters softly and then they sit in the peaceful quiet of the garden for a few moments. He's eager to breach the topic of them but he knows her. And if he pushes too hard, she will withdrawal. He's really just happy she's here.

He opens his mouth to speak but she's already talking- "I had an appointment with my therapist a few weeks back…" She says it so quietly that the summer breeze almost swallows her voice whole. She's looking around the garden, not at him.

"Yeah?"

"I've been… having a hard time. Sleeping and uh… having some anxiousness. You know?"

Elliot nearly freezes in his chair in shock of her open honesty. So much of their reunion has been about him. He's been waiting patiently, or impatiently, for her to share because despite her you haven't ask me one question about what has happened to me accusation, she's been a locked-up diary on the highest shelf. His instinct is to turn to her, grab her hand in his, and ask her what's wrong. He wants to tell her to sleep next to him. He can scare her demons away.

But he just lets out a humorless chuckle and adds, "Mmm, yeah… I'm familiar with that concept." He dares to meet her eyes over a sip of his wine and can see the battle to share more or shut up going on in her head.

"I've uh…" She turns her gaze away from him and toward the dark gray sky. "There's been a lot of change this past year. Obviously with you being back, but… Barba and I haven't been speaking since everything with Wheatley and then Burton…" She stops abruptly and takes a generous gulp of wine.

"My therapist thinks I have intimacy issues." She drops the heavy statement between them.

"What?" That's ridiculous, he thinks. Liv is the very definition of intimacy walking around on two legs. In the entire time he's known her she's been a force of warmth, security, kindness, soft touches, and aching selflessness.

"He's right. I've always only let the men in my life get so close. I'm sure we could do a Benson family assessment that points directly to my absent violent father." She lets out a chuckle and takes another sip of wine before standing up.

Liv walks over to the open wine bottle and slowly pours another glass.

"But you, and Rafa, and Burton… you were all really pivotal men in my life and you all…" She lingers off.

"Liv you can say it. Don't hold back on account of my feelings."

"No, El… I didn't come here for that. I-"

The fact that she's still standing while he's seated won't do. He joins her over by the open bottle of wine when he feels a raindrop on his head.

"My therapist thinks my idealized relationship with you is hanging over me, preventing me from experiencing true intimacy with anyone else… that I need to see whether something more is… here, or move on."

The words 'move on' leaving her mouth in reference to him scare the shit out of Elliot and he doesn't know how to say the right thing here.

"Your therapist is a quack." He deadpans and she huffs out a stunning laugh and shakes her head.

"He also said that I deserve to be happy." She adds quietly like a closing argument, and he won't argue with that one.

He wants to quarrel with her about their 'idealized relationship' because nothing about them is perfect. Nothing about them has ever been faultless or ideal. What he and Liv have has forever been a beautifully painful destruction. The word soulmate comes up his throat, but he swallows it down. Slow raindrops begin dropping around them, not enough to actually get wet but enough to notice. The sudden growling of thunder sounds like it's getting closer.

The moment feels critical. Like her being here, at his home, in the rain, looking as beautiful as she does is a moment that will be written in stone. One he will never forget- a moment that changes everything.

"You're beautiful." The compliment leaves his lips before he can stop himself and her eyes go wide with surprise. She's looking at him with that same tentative, but hopeful, expression she had when he asked her and Noah over for Christmas and he's desperate to reach, hold, grab, anything that gets his hands on her.

"Elliot," she starts but-

"What I'm trying to say here, Liv… is that I don't want you to find intimacy with anyone else." He smirks at her, puts his wine glass down on the tall table next to them and continues.

"No more pricks, Liv. They don't deserve you. Your therapist was right about two things." He's being a pompous asshole right now, but he thinks she loves this side of him. He thinks his Liv likes when he's a lovesick tool, greedy and deeply in-love with her.

He grabs ahold of the fingers on her right hand and squeezes them in his own.

"The first is that you deserve to be happy. More than anyone else I know. And the second… is that you should see if there's more… here. With me." Now or never.

"I want to be the only lucky son of a bitch that gets to hold you. I want to be a steady presence in Noah's life." He steps further into her personal space and takes her wine glass out of her hand to join his on the table. "Tell me you want that too."

Elliot thinks his heart has stopped beating in his chest, simultaneously petrified she'll walk away and thrilled at the anticipation that she does want this too. They gaze at each other in expectancy, and he can read so many of her feelings just by looking into her eyes- elation, panic, doubt, distrust, hope, joy, to name a few. And then she's leaping up toward him and wrapping her arms around his neck, merging her lips to his.

Elliot doesn't miss a beat, leans down into her, and holds her securely to him. She kisses how she lives- passionately, confidently, and filled with resilience. He gives her what she gives him- bravery, desire, love.

His hands are cradling her face when the rain falls with a vengeance. And of fucking course their first kiss would be in the pouring rain. How else would they do it? He and Liv? Always a beautifully painful destruction. A flash of lightning and a loud crash of thunder has them pulling away all cheeky grins and swollen lips.

He doesn't let go of her hand as he pops the cork back into the bottle and holds it under his bicep. She grabs her glass, and he pulls her toward the back door.

"El."

Turning to look at her, he's forever struck like lightning at how fortunate he is. What kind of luck is it that this bold and gorgeous woman has forgiven him, has opened herself up to him again despite all of his faults.

"I do…" She's getting all wet, "want that too." She says and the blush that rises to her cheeks has her freckles popping even more. Screw it, he thinks. They're already wet. He bites at his lip as he lowers the bottle of wine and their glasses onto the ground and wraps his arms around her hips. He lifts her up off her feet and kisses her again. He kisses her with the force of a million apologies, a million more promises for what's to come.

Olivia Benson deserves happiness and he's more than willing to give her everything and then some.