A/N: Random one shot
'Cause I want to live
And I want to love you the right way
And I want to fall asleep and then wake up with you beside me
I won't spend the rest of my life running from everything that's right
I want to live
(The Right Way – Ron Pope)
The rim shakes as the ball hits the backboard and bounces off. He cringes at how awful the shot was and it's followed by gruff laughter, "I see you still suck at basketball soldier" comes from behind him, the slight South Carolina drawl still hasn't fully dissipated despite the years away.
He turns and tosses the ball hard at the other man's chest watching him easily catch, lean back slightly and toss a perfect swoosh in, "Fuck off, Sergeant" he throws back as he walks to the side of the court to grab his bottle of water.
"That's Sergeant Major, sir" Jason Payne says following him to grab his own bottle before taking a long drag and then putting it down, "You know, I've been meaning to ask…how's, fine, Olivia?" he asks with that shit eating grin that reminds him of boot camp a hundred years ago.
"Still too good for you" he tells him raising his brow and staring him down.
The blonde laughs, "That's what you been saying for the ten years I've been begging you to hook me up" he tells him, "Is there anyone good enough for her? He finishes raising his eyebrows.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he can feel his eyebrows knit as he thinks of his partner, "No" he answers, grabbing the ball, "Now we gonna play or chat over tea?"
It's a defense mechanism. The last thing he wants to talk about is thinking of Olivia dating someone, the assholes she's been caught up with before have been anything but deserving, and he's not about to let his lothario ex-Sergeant get his hooks in her. He's protective, so what, that's how partners are.
"How long you and Kathy been divorced now" he throws out as they walk back onto the court.
Elliot dribbles before shooting, hitting his target this time, "Nine months, officially" he answers because it was six months before the paperwork was finally filed.
"And you haven't made a move"
This time his shot goes airborne, the words jarring him as he jumped to toss it, "ON WHO?" he asks turning to him.
His friend shakes his head, tilts it to the side, "Listen, you keep stalling, while you make up your mind, and that woman is going to get tired of waiting…she's gon find someone else, and your sorry ass is gon have to watch another man love her…that what you want?"
OoO
He's up until four on the lumpy mattress in the empty apartment, the words haunting him as he pictures her in that black dress she showed up in one night at the precinct, her skin glowing with another man's hand pressed against the small of her back.
Jumping off the bed, he goes into the bathroom, splashes water on his face, looking in the mirror and he sighs as he studies his reflection.
There's a part of him that is still too scared to admit Payne is right because he realizes that, nothing would ever be the same after. He pictures the questions in his children's eyes, Dickie already having question the extent of their relationship…he envisions telling Cragen, a new partner, a new unit. Everything would change, and, when he's feeling honest, change scares the shit out of him. He knew that's why he went back to Kathy, why he stayed because the fear of the unknown was greater than going through life, half living.
The thing that jumps out is that he never questions her…because there's a bigger part of him that already knows. They like to straddle the line, everyone questioning the impropriety of their relationships without realizing they never had to fuck around for it to be more than a partnership, because there are other ways to commit a sin.
OoO
His knuckles rap on the door and she swings it open, dressed in a pair of jeans with a pale blue sweater over. As soon as she sees him she groans, "Entire weekend off, I knew it was too good to be true" she remarks rolling her eyes as she widens the door for him to come in.
"No, no, it's not work" he says shuffling in, "Were you going out" he asks and suddenly feels heat prickle his skin looking at the way her hair curls around her face, wondering if he's already too fucking late.
"If you count a Saturday night standing pickup order from the Thai place down the street going out" she says with a chuckle, "You okay?"
He realizes his skin is flushed, his hands balled into fists at his sides, "Actually there's something" he starts but he's flailing because, fuck, he's never been very good at talking about his feelings without wanting to vomit, and not when it matters this much.
"You want some water?" she asks.
Turning to her, wide eyes, he licks his lips, a wry pained smile lifting one side of his mouth, "I want you"
Her eyes slowly blink as he mouth falls open, and she swallows hard, flailing for a moment, before she shakes her head, "What?" she asks and he knows she's pretending that he didn't just say that because, she's even better at running than he is.
"You" he says honestly, "I was at home in Queens in that shitty apartment, and all I could think was that I wanted to be with you"
She laughs nervously and he knows she's wringing her hands because she does that when something gets overwhelmed by something and she shakes her head, averting her eyes, "El" and then she tugs her lip between her teeth and he watches the confliction on her face.
It's all he can take and then he's walking towards her, his hands coming to her face gently and moving her gaze back to his, "I want you" he admits as honestly as he can, "I don't know how to do this…I've never…it's been a long time" he says laughing and then she's chuckling with him nervously.
Espresso eyes are darkened with the moisture of tears and she's shaking her head slowly his hands still cupping her face, "I don't" she starts but trails off.
"I want to take you out to dinner, and hold your hand in the fucking park and do all kinda cheesy shit we make fun of when we're on a stakeout and see stupid couples walking by" he says hoarsely, the emotion caught in his throat, "I don't know, I know it's crazy, and there is a million reasons it won't" he admits, "But there's one"
She leans in, pushing her lips against him, gratefully shutting him up and his hands come to her hair as their lips suckle and bite, the first kiss with a rhythm that makes him wonder how many times he's imagined this because with the excitement of the first time they've crossed the line is the rhythm that feels like they've been kissing every day, for a dozen years.
Their torsos are touching, her arms wrapped around him, gripping the light jacket that still wraps around his muscular body, and his hands are in her hair, then sliding down her back, touching her more in five minutes than he has in a decade of his palms aching for contact.
Somewhere in between the first kiss and the last, they're on the couch, her half pulled on his lap, his hands up her shirt, warm skin under his palms, like they're teenagers waiting for her mom to pull into the driveway, too excited to feel every inch than doing anything more.
When they part, her lips are bruised the color of vine ripened raspberries, skin flushed peach, "El"
He reaches up to push a piece of her hair behind her ear, smirking softly, "Let's not talk"
Nodding she leans in, her forehead against his, both of them unsure of what they're going to do but knowing that they've paved a trail that only moves forward.
"Thai food sounds good" he whispers.
Nodding she reluctantly pulls off his lap and he gets up, grabs her hand, pulls her back to him, "It's going to be okay" he whispers, kissing her forehead.
Even as the words come out, he's not sure he fully believes it but he'll keep saying it because he can longer imagine a life without her next to him…he's not sure he has a life at all if she's gone.
"Yeah, okay" she agrees but he knows she's even more afraid than he is because if it doesn't work…she doesn't know what else she has without him.
Grabbing her hand he squeezes one more time before letting her go and following her out of the apartment…for now, he'll hold the belief for the both of them.