A/N: This chapter is set around the events of the episode 'Web' (7x21).
Songs: Easier by Masionair and Move Together by James Bay.
Chapter 18- Elliot
Friday Midday / 2 Days Later
Working a case solo made him realize how much he had taken for granted. He kept thinking about angles of the case he wanted to discuss. He kept turning to find his passenger seat empty. He was hitting every red light from the school to the stationhouse. He realized the car smelled different, the vents weren't wafting her shampoo or the perfume she dabbed on her pulse points. It felt empty. When he sat at his desk and worked on his reports, he'd look up and across at her desk. He realized he'd lost his focal point. Paperwork seemed harder to do. He needed the background noise of her fingertips pounding relentlessly on her keyboard to pull him into his own focus.
He'd gone to Computer Crimes the day before, the day after their phone call. He tried not to let his eyes linger as she helped them with their case. He couldn't help but notice the joy that lifted in her eyes, when she got a window into their world again. She looked like she always did, her hair and makeup and her necklace. He couldn't see her scar. It was healing nicely. He wanted her to rise to her feet so he could see if she had her holster on her hip. He wanted her to meet him at eye level and remind him that she was still the woman he'd known for so long. He hadn't spoken to her since the phone call, and he hoped they were still on for whatever he had suggested for Friday.
"See ya."
"Okay."
She had nodded as she spoke the single syllable. He had to force himself to pull away from her energy, because he couldn't have anyone catch him lingering too long. Fin had already grilled him on their car ride to New Jersey the day before.
He sat at the light and thought about how he was supposed to see her tonight. He'd told her he wanted to see her. He did. But he was nervous. Maybe she was right, what would they talk about without the job?
He wanted to show up dressed decent, make reservations, and take her somewhere nice. Was that what his intention was? To take her on some kind of date? He had no idea what she was expecting of him, all she'd said was alright, like it was the furthest thing from alright. He said he'd come over, but they hadn't set a time. He couldn't text her casually and ask, it was all too touchy. He didn't even know if she actually wanted to see him.
I realized I need you too.
She'd told him a lot with those words, but he didn't know what to make of them. What did she need from him? Need and Olivia didn't correlate in his brain. She'd never needed anyone as long as he'd known her. He'd watched her turn down so many men who wanted to give her everything. She didn't even take more than a day off work when her mother died.
Should he bring her flowers? What would that say? Here Liv, sorry all I'm capable of is ruining our partnership and fingering you against your doorway? Fuck.
She'd probably laugh in his face if he brought her flowers. He didn't even know what kind of flowers she liked. He laughed out loud in the empty car. Olivia wasn't Kathy, the last thing she'd want is him trying to romance her. The entire thought felt ridiculous.
Olivia. She was so whole. She didn't need anything from anyone. She dated, but she didn't date. She never had expectations of the men. She took what she wanted from them and left the rest. He'd been watching her do it for years. He didn't understand at first because he'd go home with flowers and pitiful apologies. He'd do the dishes and mow the lawn, so his wife knew he cared. Kathy always wanted more from him. There was always another project, another test for him to pass in order to prove that he loved his wife. Olivia did everything for herself.
He knew she would laugh at flowers. No conventions would help him out of this mess. Olivia probably wanted him to throw her down on her kitchen counter and make her body tremble. That's what he wanted to do, but he was so ruled by conventions that the carnal side of him had to hide. His wife would never let him do something like that; they were only intimate in bed when the kids had long been asleep, the lights were off, and the comforter was covering their bodies.
He knew Olivia knew what she wanted. There wouldn't be any reassurances needed. No, do you think I'm pretty still? Or, was I good? Or, can you be gentle? She knew what she was doing. She wasn't gentle, and she knew she was good. He was sure of this because he saw the looks she gave the pathetic men that fell at her feet asking to take her on a real date.
So was that his plan? Show up at her apartment, barge through her door and bend her over every surface in her apartment? He slammed the brake at another light as he gripped the steering wheel. He knew that's how it would be. He'd known that from the minute he shook her hand for the first time. If ever given the chance, he'd met his match. There was no side of himself he'd have to hold back with her.
The papers will be signed first. And then what? They could burn each other down with their insatiable appetites? They could do whatever they damned pleased because there would be no wife and no partnership anymore. They'd both have nothing. How many times between her legs would it take him to fall at her feet and beg for a real date? Would she show him the door? Stomp on his flowers and tell him that she doesn't want anything more, that they were better as partners.
Did he want more? He hadn't even split from the first wife yet, how could he begin to think about a second? Then he laughed out loud again, Olivia would kill him before she'd let him marry her. Marry her. What would that look like? He thought about his life, his marriage with Kathy, and he couldn't for the life of him picture Olivia in that type of world. She'd die of boredom after one week.
Olivia was desire, she was strength, she was independence, she would never be somebody's wife. So no flowers, no dinner reservations. She needed him to make it clear that he intended to finish what he'd started in her doorway, on multiple occasions, and she didn't really give a damn about his marriage certificate.
Then his eyes landed on the glove box. He popped it open to find her most recent romance novel. She'd told him a long time ago that she read them because reading anything dark wasn't fun with their work. She couldn't read classics because her mother had been a literature professor, and anything else was too involved to read on car trips when he would disturb her peace with pestering questions. He looked at the book. It sat nestled in one of her scarves. The cover had an airbrushed man holding flowers. Fuck.
Maybe he didn't know the first thing about what Olivia Benson actually needed from him.
Friday Night / 7:00 p.m.
He stood at her doorway and knocked three times. She opened the door. She was wearing her work clothes still; so was he.
"Hey," she said as she leaned against the door.
"It's Friday…"
"It is…" she said as she pulled her weight off the door and let it fall all the way open. "Come in," she said, and he watched as her eyes fell to his lips.
"No, grab your coat, I made us reservations at that sushi bar you've talked about."
"You hate raw fish," she said as she studied him with a peculiar look on her face.
"They have teriyaki chicken," he shrugged, and she laughed as she grabbed her coat. Her laugh hit his chest; he'd missed hearing it.
He watched as she ate with her chopsticks. She'd barely spoken to him on the drive to the restaurant. They hadn't had much of a chance to talk between ordering drinks and then food. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but he didn't know where to start. Work.
"How's Computer Crimes?"
"It's better than I expected. I've never felt so rested," she said as she looked at him.
"You like who you're working with?"
"They're not you," she said in that breathy tone that had him grasping for his water glass.
"Fin's driving me crazy."
"I'm sure the feeling is mutual."
"Yeah," he sighed. There was maybe twelve inches of table between them, but he'd never felt farther from her.
"We can talk about Teddy if you need," she offered. She must have been able to see the weight of the case on his shoulders; Teddy was the name of his current victim turned perpetrator.
"We're not even working together, and you manage to bring it up," he said as he shook his head at her, but a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"I just know the kids get to you," she sighed, and he wanted to hug her, bury his face in her neck and thank her for being who she was.
"It's the worst thing, when they can't beat the cycle," he said as he pushed his food around with his fork.
"I know, El," she said, and he knew they were both thinking about their childhoods. Was he repeating the cycle of being an angry and absent father?
"You miss it? You seem like you miss it," he said as he let his foot find hers underneath the table.
"I do. I want to help. I've got all this free time now, and I feel like I'm wasting it,"
"It's alright to spend time on yourself," he said as she let her foot tangle with his.
"I did- I went shopping, watched my favorite movies, I've finished three books, I organized my cd collection in alphabetical order, I painted my bathroom…" she trailed off into small laughs.
"What color?"
"Red, it looks horrible," she said as she ate a piece of sushi.
"What'd you go shopping for?"
"Bought some new shirts, needed more casual stuff since I haven't been in court, spent an obscene amount of money on a pair of heels I'll probably never wear, bought some new candles, and some bath salts…"
"Make sure you blow your candles out," he said out of habit. His daughters always lit candles in their bedrooms, and he worried one day it would burn the house down. She lived alone, and he didn't want her to forget. If he could be with her all the time, he'd make sure to blow her candles out.
"Yeah, I'll make sure to keep that in mind," she said with an eye roll.
"You take a lot of baths?"
"Elliot, what is this?" she laughed as she shook her head.
"I'm just making conversation, you know, what normal people talk about."
"I like baths. I got rose petal bath salts on sale. I was excited," she shrugged, and he could see that she was trying not to smile at the absurdity of this conversation.
"You like roses?"
"I like the color red," she said as she reached for her drink and took a long sip while she kept her eyes on him.
"You think you'll come back?" he asked in almost a whisper, and he knew he was disturbing the flow they had begun to establish.
"Don't tempt me," she said, and he knew that meant she was itching to leave Computer Crimes.
"I want you to come back."
"If I come back, we can't do this," she said as she set her glass down on the circle table, and then she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her foot from him. He hooked his foot around her ankle and tugged it back towards him, causing her to come forward in her chair.
"What is this?" he asked because he needed her to tell him, he needed to know what she wanted, what she needed.
"I don't know, Elliot, I was following your lead."
"I like doing this."
"Me too," she admitted, but he felt from her tone of voice that they could be in an interrogation room, rather than an upscale sushi bar that was bound to strain his wallet.
"You could wear those heels sometime."
"I could," she agreed through tight lips, and he began to feel lightheaded.
"I miss work," she added.
"I know you do. I shoulda been the one to leave. That's always how I envisioned it happening."
"So you always thought this would happen?" she asked as she leaned across the table, her ankle still caught in his.
"Didn't you?"
"No!" she said as her eyes flashed at him. "You were married, Elliot!"
"Famous last words," he sighed through a scratchy throat. She shook her head at him and yanked her foot back to her territory.
"Do you want me to come back to work, or do you want me to wear the heels?" she asked, her voice low and firm. Do you want me as your partner, or do you want me as more?
"Both," he said with a sad smile. He knew what she was going to say next.
"You can't have both."
"What are your Saturday plans?" he asked as he walked behind her on the stairs that lead to her doorway.
"Might get lunch with my friend from college."
"You have friends?" he laughed from behind her. She turned around and glared at him.
"A few," she shrugged. "And who are you to judge? I've never heard you mention any friends."
"I'm not everyone's cup of tea," he joked as they made it to her doorway.
"Elliot, why are you following me up?" he couldn't tell if she was frustrated, tired, or intrigued.
"I just wanted to make sure you got inside," Blink your lights when you get inside. He'd been wanting to follow her up for so many years.
"Right," she said as she turned to face him. He stepped forward, reaching for her hands. He let his thumbs roll over her knuckles.
"I shouldn't have been so angry," he said as he pulled her closer to him. Her eyes fell to their feet; his eyes fell to her necklace and breasts.
"I should have told you," she responded.
"Well, we're even then," he smiled as he lifted her chin with his fingertips and placed a kiss on her mouth. He felt her inhale against his lips, and he took the chance to deepen the kiss. He dropped her hands and she moved them around his neck. He circled her lower back and pulled her against him. He broke the kiss, letting his hands find her neck and her face. He ran his fingers through her hair and forced her to look up at him.
"Invite me in."
"No," she said as she let her thumbs press into and drag up on the column at the back of his neck. The pads of her thumbs were working through all the tension he carried there. The pressure was sending shock waves down his body. She knew how to touch him in such unexpected places.
"Why not?"
"I'm not sure I'm ready to let go of my partner yet," she said, and it gave him hope that she could come back to Special Victims. He wanted her back.
"No one has to know. Now that we know, I don't think something like Gitano would happen again," he said as he let his hand slip under her shirt and up the plane of her back. Her skin was warm against the palm of his hand. Now that we know. If he was being honest with himself, he'd known it long before Gitano played on their weaknesses, but Gitano had made him face it in a way he wasn't prepared for.
"You made such a big deal about the papers, Elliot."
"I know," he said, and he didn't know where his resolve went. Perhaps it began to evaporate when she'd gotten on her knees and showed him everything he'd been missing. He leaned in and kissed her again as his fingers clawed at her back.
"I won't let you regret me," she said as she pulled out of his embrace.
"Liv…" he began because he didn't want her to think that's how he'd feel about her for a minute, but she cut him off.
"I couldn't take it," she said in a small voice as she unlocked her door, slipped inside, and left him standing there. He watched the door shut as her words lingered with him. His body ached for her, his heart ached for her, his mind ached. He clenched his fists as he descended the stairs. He'd never regret her.