Song: Colour Me In by Damien Rice.

Chapter 9- Olivia

Olivia watched as he picked at his noodles and egg roll. She couldn't believe she was still sitting in his apartment. She should have walked out of the front door instead of into his bathroom.

You do- have me.

She picked at her food and wondered how she could come up with a reason to leave. Part of her wished Cragen would call them in on a case.

"You wanna watch a movie?" he asked between a bite of eggroll, and she couldn't believe him. She shifted uncomfortably; she was too aware of the slickness between her legs that happened as a result of him resting his mouth on her neck. What was wrong with her? He was being vulnerable with her, and she couldn't get her mind out of the gutter.

He'd kissed her neck because he was trying desperately to hold onto something, not because he wanted her. If he wanted her, she would have been under him hours ago. He clearly didn't have a problem sleeping with Rebecca while his marriage certificate still stood.

Maybe he did want her, but it was complicated.

I know.

What did she know? That he had her so completely that she felt weird letting Trevor buy her dinner? That he had his fingers so deep in her back that she was letting her clock tick away while she waited for something, he could never give her? That she knew he wanted to fuck her six years ago, and he wanted to now, but he won't because of some dwindling notion of morality? She could guess for hours, but all she really knew was that she wanted to get home and be on her way towards forgetting with her vibrator between her legs.

"So no movie?" he repeated when he realized he wasn't getting a response from her. Damn him. She couldn't deny him.

"Sure," she said as she picked up more noodles with her chopsticks. Wasn't he sick of her yet? Did he really want her to stay, or did he just not want to face the empty walls around him?

"You want something more comfortable to wear?" he asked as he eyed her jeans, her belt, her badge and all of their boundaries.

"Sweats would be good," she said, and she couldn't believe either of them. Eight years of perfected boundaries, and they both seemed hell bent on simultaneously upholding them and destroying them.

"One sec," he said as he dusted his hands on a napkin and then disappeared into his bedroom. He emerged some moments later and she noticed he had changed into grey department sweats and a navy-blue t-shirt. She smiled at how different he looked like that. All his defenses were gone; he was just Elliot. The man who had leaned against her like he was clutching to her for direction. She wanted to give him the right answers, but she wasn't sure she had them.

"Here," he said as he extended a pile of clothes in her direction. She stood and went to change in the bathroom. When she'd hidden there earlier, she'd noticed the woman's body wash in his shower. It could be one of his daughters, or it was hers. Rebecca Hendrix. He was right; she really didn't like that woman. Anyone else would have irritated her less. She stripped off her clothes, letting them hit the cold tile of his bathroom floor.

She looked at her reflection and smirked at herself. She wondered if she walked out in nothing how he'd react. Would he curse her out for misreading him or cover her body with his hands? She didn't have the answer.

She pulled on the men's sweats and tightened the draw string as tight as it would go in hopes that they didn't slide down her hips. She pulled on the navy t-shirt with the marine's symbol on it. She wondered if he meant for them to match, or if he only wore navy and grey clothing outside of work.

She walked back into the living room to find him flipping through the on-demand movies.

"So I'm thinking scream or some horror classic in honor of the worst holiday," he said with his back still turned to her. He must have heard her footsteps.

"I love horror films."

"Of course you do," he laughed as he turned around to look at her. She could see the way he grinned at the sight of her in his oversized clothing.

"What's your favorite?" he asked as he tossed her the remote to let her decide.

"Carrie."

"Why," he laughed as he crossed the room and sat beside her on the couch. She could sense the lightness in him now. His mood had lifted, and his eyes were lighter. She was glad she had given into his movie request. She hated the thought of him trapped alone with his thoughts.

"I guess I relate to being the girl no one liked in high-school."

"I have a hard time believing people didn't like you."

"They didn't like that I would get invited to the college parties, and my mom would buy me burnetts."

"You sound like you were pretty cool to me."

"I guess."

"At least you weren't the kid who got a girl pregnant on his first go," he said as he cracked his knuckles in tune to his own self-deprecating joke.

"Oh Elliot," she laughed at his revelation. "It only takes once," she said through laughs that she couldn't hold back.

"Yeah I didn't get that memo. Three older brothers, and no one cared to warn me."

"Silence of the Lambs?" she asked as the remote clicked on the title.

"She kind of reminds me of you," he said as she leaned back on the couch and let his legs spread so they were invading her space.

"How so," she asked, not sure if she should take that as a compliment or not.

"Smart and intense," he smiled in her direction. She could tell he was still trying to make up for whatever damage he'd caused in the doorway.

"Let's watch Scream," she said in order to change the subject.

"You suck at taking a compliment."

"I'm not sure if intense is a compliment," she said as she pulled her feet under herself and tried to make herself comfortable with him so close.

"It's definitely a compliment," he mumbled more to himself than to her. She hit play on the movie, and as she did, she glanced at the time. It was getting late, and they were in very uncharted territory.

"Liv," he broke the silence of the opening sequence by beginning a question with her nickname. She thought it was funny how frequently he used it, she reserved 'El' for when she really wanted him to know she was speaking to him softly, but he used 'Liv' like it pained him to call her anything else.

"Yeah," she asked as she looked over at him. She was starting to feel tired, and she could tell he was too. Neither of them slept as much as they should. The job stole so many sleeping hours from them. Tomorrow they had to be in by 8 a.m., and she had no business still being at his apartment. They were playing with fire.

"Will you lean against me?"

"What?" she asked as she sat up straighter to make sure she'd heard him right.

"Will you come lay with me?" he clarified as he gestured to the spot beside him. She felt her cheeks warm at his suggestion.

"Elliot…," she began as she ran a tired hand over her face. The apartment had grown dark, and she could only make out his face from the light on the television and the end table lamp that had a dull bulb.

"I should probably be getting home."

"You can stay," he said in almost a whisper, and her head was reeling. He'd stopped anything from happening in the bathroom, and now he was asking her to stay. She didn't understand him sometimes. It had to be his move; she was in no position to do anything. Yet he was acting like he wanted her to tell him where they should take this.

She was so frustrated with him. She inhaled as she decided that she'd comply with what he asked, but she wouldn't put herself on the line only for him to shut it down. It was his move, and she knew she didn't have the will to deny whatever his call was. She took a moment of composure, and then she practically crawled the length of the couch until she'd positioned her back against his chest.

He was leaning back in the corner of the sectional sofa with his feet on the ground and knees apart. Her back rested against him and she let her legs stretch out on the length of the couch. She could feel his shallow breaths pushing into her back. She moved her body further into the corner, so all of her weight wasn't on him, but his arm came from around the back and pulled her tighter against him. They fit together easily.

"Who's Munch and who's Fin?" he asked against her hair. Translation: We shouldn't be doing this because Munch and Fin would never do this. Partners don't do this.

"You're Munch, and I'm definitely Fin," she laughed as she pictured their colleagues in their current position.

"See I think it would be the other way around."

"No, Fin would never cuddle Munch, but Munch would definitely cuddle Fin."

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"What?"

"Cuddling you," he clarified as he let the hand of the arm that he had around her, rest on her abdomen. It was frighteningly intimate, and she wasn't sure why he'd done it.

"I'm not sure, Elliot, is that what you want to be doing?" she asked as she reminded herself no to put herself out on the line. His move.

"I think so," he breathed out as he let his hand slip under her t-shirt, his t-shirt. His palm pressed into the bare skin of her lower belly and she couldn't help but feel a pang. She had no idea what he was doing. His actions didn't seem like they had an end goal and the touch was more protective than it was sexual. She'd never been so confused by a man in her life. She closed her eyes as she absorbed the feeling of his hand on such an intimate part of her.

Intimate but also not, it was just her stomach, he was making no moves for her breasts. How far could they push the innocence until it wasn't? She thought they were doing a better job than most people probably could.

"The date you had the night of Maria, who was it with," he asked as his other hand toyed with a piece of her hair in a manner that felt possessive. She wanted to smack him. He thought he had every right to her. And she had no right to him.

That case had torn out her heart and just hearing the child's name made her eyes flash with unpleasant memory, of the distress she had been in that entire night. Without him.

"How'd you know about that," she asked, knowing that he hadn't been on call that night. He had the night off because Cragen wanted him to 'de-stress.' He'd probably called Rebecca while she was fighting to find that child with nothing more than a poor telephone connection.

"Munch made sure to mention how gorgeous you looked, he said I was an unfortunate bastard for missing it."

"You guys talk about how gorgeous I look?" she laughed as she felt his hand draw circles on her belly. She loved the way it felt when he touched her.

"The whole department talks about how gorgeous you are," he said as he let his hand leave her hair and search out her hand. He grabbed at her fingertips.

"What do you think they say about us," she asked and then cursed herself because she was giving more than she should.

"I think they wonder why you stay with me," he said, and she heard the tone shift like a cold draft. He let his fingertips brush her ribcage.

"Do you know why I stay with you?" she whispered as she felt him rest his chin on her shoulder.

"No."

"If I were a victim, I'd want you to be the detective on my case."

"Liv…"

"You're the detective I would have wanted on my mom's case," she added, and she was afraid she'd said too much because he'd gone silent behind her. The screams from the movie invaded her ears.

"I stay with you because if one of my children were to be hurt, I'd want you to hold their hand through it," he said as he kissed the top of her head. A long silence passed between them as his hand continued to stroke her belly, his fingertips grazing over her navel every so often.

"Trevor Langan," she said, and then she felt his hand still on her skin. He didn't say anything.

"El?"

"I don't like that," he said, and she couldn't help herself from laughing. It was a soft laugh that emitted from where he was stroking her.

"Why not?"

"He's a defense attorney, Olivia," he said, and she could feel his fingers press into her waist.

"I'm aware," she said, and he was silent behind her. More moments passed before he spoke in a low voice,

"Do you let him touch you?" The question jarred her. Anything he had ever done before did not hold a candle to that question, not even turn around.

"I do," she said as she turned her body so she could face him. His hand fell away from her abdomen, and she instantly felt the loss.

"I don't know why I asked that," he said as he squeezed his tired eyes closed. She let her hand stroke his jaw, so much for his move.

"What I do in my personal time doesn't impact you," she said, and his eyes opened to her face. She was practically laying on top of him, her breasts and belly pressed to his chest.

"It does."

"It shouldn't."

"I'll let Rebecca know you think that in my next session with her," he said with a curve to his lips.

"I'm sorry it bothers you," she settled on, making it a point to ignore his low blow at her. He gave her a sad smile as he let his hands find her hair again.

"Are you dating him?"

"If I were dating him, do you think I'd be lying on top of you?" she asked as she let her head settle onto his shoulder and her arms encircle his upper body. He didn't say anything in response. Instead he pulled a throw blanket over their bodies and clicked off the movie they hadn't paid attention to at all. It was a silent way of saying you aren't going anywhere tonight.

"Night, El." she mumbled as she felt his body shift. He put his legs on the length of the couch and let them tangle in hers. He pulled her body higher onto him, so her hips rested on his abdomen.

"Night Liv," he murmured, and she felt herself fall into sleep easier than she had in months, maybe years.

A/N: Leave me some reviews! I love them! Thank you for reading.