Olivia and Elliot try their own luck at conversation.
NOTES: Obviously, I don't own them. And I have no stake in Billy's Coffee Shop, it's only ad plot here is that it's near Police Plaza. I'm trying to get you chapters as quickly as I can think em, promise!
Chapter Text
You up?
And of course, he is, and of course she knows he's awake. It's almost a game after all these years, and both their batting average is phenomenal. If she's ever been asleep, she's never told him so. The only times he's called and gotten her deliciously seductive half asleep, "Benson" have been when they've caught cases, and in that situation, he was also asleep when the shrill ringtone woke him. Asleep enough, he always wagered, that thinking her voice being seductive was a trick from his half-asleep mind, an easy way to play it off.
He's not sure how to answer, and he was almost expecting this text message weeks ago when he sent Cassidy home with a bruised face. He'd circled the precinct that day hoping to catch her before she went home. He ended up driving back to his apartment after two circles. This wasn't who he was, and it sure as hell wasn't someone he wanted to become. He went back to his place to regroup, to evaluate the situation.
And now here he was, almost three weeks later at 2 am with a cryptic text from Olivia. To any other person, this wouldn't have been a big deal. Two words, and a simple yes or no reply with no weight behind it. This wasn't any other person though, and these words, like the thread that held behind it was heavy. He willed himself to keep her text thread in his phone, despite the hurt it caused him to see her grey bubbles flooding in. Hours turned to days, which turned to weeks until one day the messages stopped coming in. The only reason he kept this thread alive, kept her memory so fresh in her hurt, was to remind himself that this was toxic. He had to fix who he was, before he could move forward with what he wanted. He needed to be in a place where Olivia and Elliot existed together because of want, and not just need.
He closes his eyes and drags his hand over his face, sighing heavily. He types in yes and lets it linger before he turns his phone around and closes his eyes.
I can see your bubbles, that's how iPhones work you know.
He chuckles, and it's light and airy and he instantly misses this, misses them. He hits send and waits for her reply. He stares at his screen, knots in his stomach. He awaits her reply, watches for those bubbles. Five, ten, twenty minutes pass and no reply, no attempt at it either. Suddenly he finds his eyes heavy and tries to open them. He fell asleep, and 2 am turned into 4, and he looks around for his phone. Upside down, across his pillow, he launches at it and turns it around, checking for her reply. None, his stomach turns, and his heart begins to hurt. He unlocks his phone, in case his phone made a mistake, or he fell asleep as the alert came through. He sees their thread, no reply on her end and out comes a breath he was keeping, a sharp almost painful exhale. He doesn't understand what's happened, and he doesn't know if he should try again.
He gets up, walks into his bathroom and runs the water in the sink. He wishes this wasn't so hard, so heavy and intense. He wishes he could just text her, and she could just reply. He runs the water over his face and dries off. And he turns off the light, he stands in his bedroom. He isn't sure what to do, what to say. He's so tired of this, of questioning every move, of rethinking every word, examining every outcome, and always coming back full circle in distress. He thought leaving the precinct would help, that somehow his departure would begin some sort of magical healing. Instead he found himself cooped up with most of his kids gone, and his heart hurt when he realized that Eli would be the only one of his children who had a father full time.
He sees the light on his phone and walks over to it. As he dips himself into the bed, he opens the message and feels a hitch in his breathing.
Billy's Bakery, 6am.
He was nervous, and began getting ready as soon as he replied, I'll be there. He tried on three different shirt and jean combinations before he realized that he needed to stop by the PI office at noon. As he stood before his full-length mirror, he chuckled at himself, in his darkest and most fitted suit. All this fuss to see her, who had he become? He grabbed his keys and made his way out the door, it was a quick drive, the coffee shop was a few blocks from the precinct and even with traffic it would be less than half an hour.
He found parking almost immediately and took it as a sign of good luck. Maybe things were turning around, and even if he wasn't where he wanted to be with himself, maybe she would be open to growing with him from here on.
As soon as he walked into the coffee shop he saw her and gave her a small smile. She looked at him and gave him this goofy grin that he'd never seen before. As he reached her table, he gave a Hello that was more whisper than an actual greeting. She put her hand across the table, and he took it as he sat.
I ordered you a coffee. You still take it the same way?
Of course, she would be fine, of course she wouldn't let on that they hadn't seen or spoken to each other in years. That's probably why she picked such an open place to meet him, she had changed but he still knew the core of her.
Yeah, uh same way. Cassidy huh? I thought uh, I thought that was in the past.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. He didn't know where that came from, and he could tell his face had turned to pure panic. To the outsider, it wouldn't have been a change, but this was Liv and she could read him like no one else ever could. Fuck. He noticed a hitch in her breathing, but her eyes remained on him, unmoving. He felt his stomach drop, he couldn't gage her, couldn't read her expression.
Yeah, Brian. He's been there for me through a lot. I think, I think I wasn't ready before for what he offered. I'm in a different…she moves both her hands and gestures at the length of the table, pulling away their from only means on physical contact, space. Different part of my life, and It's a part that is ready for what he is, what he offers.
She is so open with him, despite the time and the heaviness of the situation. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, they call her name up front and she gets out of her seat and makes her way over. He's thankful for the break in conversation, if you could call this a conversation he thinks. He's in uncharted territory and this isn't going the way he'd hoped. He's not sure where he thought this conversation would go, but this sure as hell wasn't it. She comes back, drop his coffee in front of him and sits back down, he looks her dead on and once again can't quite make sense of the expression on her face. She drinks her coffee and looks out the window and the people passing by, she doesn't push or pry, she gives him time. It's a welcomed distraction to watch the people walking, and he can't help but be in awe of her. He's the one who pushed her out, who gave her no closure and yet here she is, willing and waiting for him to talk. She's a far better person than he ever was, he's always thought that about her. He's always wanted her to know but couldn't find the right words in the messiness that was their relationship.
I didn't mean to jump on you like that. I'm not exactly sure where it came from.
She nods but doesn't look at him.
I've missed you Liv, and I know I did everything wrong but if you just….he chuckles and it's heavy and gross, it fits the mood perfectly, I'm just sorry. I want you to know that.
She nods, slower this time as if soaking up the words he's throwing in her direction. He sees her sigh, quiet but long. He can tell now, by the way her throat is getting stuck, that she's trying not to cry, but he still can't quite make out her expression. He wants to keep talking, hoping that maybe if he says enough she'll realize that he's trying to open up more, trying to be a better person. Trying to step out of this toxic bubble they built where it was hidden words and meaningful glances, and when it became too much it was angry words and unspoken apologies.
How are the kids?
Of course, she would choose neutral ground, something easy to try and keep it light. This is the same reason she's chosen to see him during a busy hour in a busy coffee shop. She's still not quite looking at him, she's looking past him and over his shoulder now and he grins thinking that the open and close of the door must be so interesting it's gotten her gazed fixated on it. He wants to make a joke about it, wants to keep it light. He doesn't though, he keeps the joke to himself.
Everyone is good. They're all in school, adults just doing their own thing. For so long I worried about how they would turn out, but they're all in school and living good lives. Even Dickie, well Richard now, he's in school and he's doing great. I try and see them for dinner once a week to make sure everyone's on track. To keep us close. He feels like he's rambling, even though the sentences are short, and she's still nodding so very slowly. Her phone vibrates, and she glances at it, he sees her eyes narrow and he sees the change in her breathing. He knows what's coming next, and knows she's still married to the job. He wants to keep talking, keep her there but it would be of no use.
I've gotta go. It's, well you know, work.
She gets up, and he follows her, and suddenly the sound of the chairs moving back is harsh and cold. He steps aside, and he isn't sure if he should hug her or just move aside. As she puts her chair in, and steps to the side of the table he finds himself stepping forward and embracing her. He feels her fall into him for a split second, and feels the change in her breathing, the small gasp that her mouth betrays her in. He's suddenly lost in her scent and doesn't have time to adjust to the change as she hardens, straightens herself and pushes away from him with a louder than needed clearing of her throat. He goes to say something, but she's already around him and out the door before he can even begin to breathe again. .fuck.