Unknown Day
She kept hearing noises, scratchy, threatening noises, noises that told her she was about to be eaten alive by rats. She'd never had a fear of rats. Born and raised in New York City, she'd seen rats all of her life, in the halls of shitty apartments, eating out of the huge piles of trash on the street. As a toddler, her mother had delighted her friends with the tale that her daughter was so stupid she thought rats were cute.
But facing the frightening idea that she was left helpless and alone with rats, she developed a sudden and irreversible phobia of rats.
The never-ending terror that plagued her as she imagined sharp, dirty fangs pressing through her flesh wasn't even the biggest emotional problem she was having.
No, that was the hideous feeling of rejection. Rejection never felt good and Olivia had developed an over-cautious approach to avoiding it. Whenever she suspected it was coming, and it was always coming eventually, she ran first. Her dating history got worse and worse as time progressed because no matter how happy or promising the relationship seemed to be, she anticipated the impending pain of being rejected and she avoided it at all costs. And she was dumb enough to be proud in some respect, of the number of men out there who were completely baffled as to why she'd bailed on them. Because it was better to screw someone over before they had the chance to screw her over.
Yeah, a lot of her "relationships" didn't last beyond a first date. Which was fine, because one date sure as hell wasn't enough for her to get hurt.
Except that, despite her careful planning, she'd made tactical errors. Because she'd managed to get one-upped by Elliot. Hell, he'd banged her and dumped her before they even had a first date. She'd never expected anyone would be faster to scuttle a ship than her. Her thoughts, when she could think beyond the overwhelming pain of imaginary rat bites and overblown fear of impending rat consumption, centered around how she'd managed to screw up things with Elliot. She wanted to blame it on the fuck, but that had been all him. He'd thought of it, he'd started it, he'd taken what he'd wanted, and he'd left. No man would argue with that. So that couldn't have been it. And there clearly had to be something, since he'd obviously abandoned her to be gnawed to death by rodents rather than having to come to her aid.
It had to have been the kiss, she decided. The magical, glorious, searing kiss. The only one they'd ever shared. She'd been so blown away by it that she hadn't realized it was rejection worthy. Maybe that was the problem, maybe she'd been far too enthralled, far too eager. Maybe she just wasn't a good kisser. She wanted to wish it had never happened, so that she wouldn't know what it was like to have been dumped by the only man she'd ever loved, but she couldn't. She'd enjoyed it so much. She'd forever cherish that memory.
Even if forever was about to be brought on by a pack of rabid, plague-carrying rats.
And fuck, if being rejected by Elliot wasn't bad enough, she'd screwed up royally.
Because even her fucking kidnapper had dumped her. She hadn't realized it was possible to be so revolting as to be abandoned by some freak who'd gone to the trouble of kidnapping her in the first place. As much as she hated the disgusting, perverted slimeball who insisted on calling her Maggie while he was holding her, she didn't want to be the one left behind.
Maybe he'd found someone better. Someone who hadn't cried too much. Someone who hadn't disobeyed him. Someone who hadn't wet her pants.
Sniffling, Olivia thought about hitting the buzzer, trying to summon him. But she didn't. Because he'd always come when she'd done so and she knew he'd been gone too long and she didn't want to face the terrifying truth of knowing that he wasn't coming back. She dropped her head to her chest and sobbed, letting out a keening wail of despair as she choked on the rag in her mouth.
Day Two, cont'd
Elliot's comment the previous afternoon regarding her caffeine intake proved to be accurate. She tried to get some sleep, however, it was already well into the early morning and she knew she wouldn't be getting any decent rest. Mostly, she only rested physically, letting her eyes close and her body relax. She was back up a few minutes after five, pulling on a tee-shirt and shorts for a run.
She'd almost totally forgotten about the guests on her couch until she walked past. Eli was awake, squirming and wiggling. Elliot was still out cold, snoring lightly, so Olivia scooped the baby into her arms, shushing him and slinging the baby bag over her shoulder. Relocated to the kitchen, she fished a bottle out of the side pocket and found a can of formula inside. She read the directions, half to herself, half to Eli.
"Doesn't look so hard, think I can handle it?" She grinned when Eli bounced gleefully in her arms. She suspected he'd grown tired of being ignored by his sleeping father and had been moments away from waking him with a yell. An odd smell coming from the vicinity of her arm distracted her from Eli's breakfast and she turned on the baby with a quirked eyebrow. "Is that you, stinky boy?" She took his gurgle as a confession.
The baby bag was nothing if not complete and Olivia had no trouble finding the mat, the wipes, and the extra diapers. Knowing that Elliot was a light sleeper, she decided to stay in the kitchen, spreading the changing mat out on the floor. "I guess I can handle this, buddy." Leaning down, she laid him on his back and wasn't quite able to resist the urge to rub her nose playfully against his. "Don't tell you daddy if I fuck it up, ok?"
Eli waved his arms around, which she took as an agreement. No matter how much she wanted one, Olivia had very little experience with babies and absolutely none without a parent looking on. But she figured three-year-olds could handle changing their dolls' diapers, she could deal with one happy, cooperative baby.
Having no experience with babies, she was completely unprepared for the surprise waiting. The moment she pulled the tabs loose, Eli giggled, starting up a lovely fountain of pee which very nearly hit her right in the face.
Having very narrowly avoided that mishap, she chuckled at herself and the baby she strongly suspected was laughing at her. "Oh, yeah, kid, that's just charming." The rest of the job was straight forward, although as she attempted to secure the diaper, she realized keeping a baby still enough to fasten it securely was quite a bit more complicated than she'd first guessed.
Finally, she succeeded and lifted Eli back to her chest while she contemplated the diaper. "This is not staying in here." She quietly crept through the living room, silently begging Eli not to start crying while she made her way to the trash shoot.
Once that bit of work was accomplished, Eli was starting to fuss and squirm. Olivia hurried to prepare the bottle, gently rocking him to keep him quiet while it heated. "Shhh, honey, don't wake your daddy." Eli's hand smacked against her face and she happily blew a raspberry against it, not expecting the squeal of delight. "No, no, buddy, you have to be quiet. Your daddy is Mr. Grouchy pants when he doesn't get enough sleep." She adored the baby, especially the clear blue eyes he'd inherited from his father and the intense, fascinated way they locked on her whenever she spoke, another trait she'd seen before. "We don't want to talk to Mr. Grouchy pants, do we?" Eli slapped his pudgy hands together, trying to bounce in her arms, following the motion that nearly broke him free of Olivia's grasp with another string of excited and rather loud sounds. She shook her head, giggling along with Eli. "I think you're undermining my authority here." Eli continued to giggle and throw his arms around. "What are you so excited about anyway, buddy? The sun isn't up yet. Humans should be sleeping."
"Humans like Mr. Grouchy Pants?" The unexpected, gravelly voice startled her so much she nearly dropped the baby.
She turned around, feeling a blush burning her cheeks for being caught saying ridiculous things. She looked back at Eli. "So that's what's got you all happy, huh? You like Mr. Grouchy pants." Eli reached out for his father, transitioning happily into the arms of someone he recognized. But she couldn't stop herself from leaning in, bumping her nose against Eli's once again. "He does kind of grow on you, doesn't he?"
Eli's little hand reached out, twisting around a lock of her hair, and tried to pull it into his mouth. She turned her head, letting him win to alleviate the sharp pain from her scalp.
And in so doing, she realized that her face was actually in contact with Elliot's chest. His bare chest.
Where the hell had his shirt gone?
And, more importantly, Olivia wondered if he would know the difference between his son's drool that was in her hair and her own, which she suspected was trailing out of her mouth. She inhaled deeply, giving herself one long, delectable breath of his undeniably sexy scent. She cursed pheromones as she straightened up and her own body for reacting to them.
"Had I known you were going to try and kidnap my son, I would have given you a heads up about the hair pulling." Elliot's tone revealed the complete absence of Mr. Grouchy pants and Olivia hoped that had something to do with the fact that he'd discovered her caring for his youngest child. "Of course, I hadn't planned on a sleepover either."
Trying to avoid the discomfort of facing Elliot when she was still reeling from contact with his skin, she turned to the microwave to retrieve the warm bottle and tested it against her wrist. "I think that's ok."
Rather than pouring out some more, as she'd figured he'd do, Elliot quite unexpectedly ran his thumb over Olivia's wrist, rubbing the remainder of the formula from her skin. "Yeah, that's fine." Then he nonchalantly offered the bottle to Eli while Olivia tried to compose herself.
After the way he'd behaved for several months, she couldn't quite grasp the concept that he was coming on to her. But really, she couldn't find any other reason for him to touch her like that. Panic started to overwhelm her and she wanted to run. Luckily, she was dressed for it.
"I was going to go for a run and wake you when I got back."
He nodded, looking around the kitchen for something he couldn't find. "What time is it?"
She pointed at the microwave, displaying 5:20 in neon green lights. "Plenty early. I wouldn't have let you be late."
"Thanks for letting me stay. I don't know how I would have made it home last night." Although his words were directed at her, his face and voice were for Eli's benefit. He was cradled against his father's chest, sucking down his breakfast.
Olivia thought she might faint. She reached out to rest her hand on the counter just in case. Elliot's body was a sight to behold and she never missed a chance to drink it in, marveling at the product of his intense workouts. But there was something so much more powerful before her, his amazing, hard body, cuddling his son so gently. His normally sharp stare and hard features seemed to take on a tender quality, revealing his pure, unadulterated love for Eli.
For the briefest of moments, she allowed herself the indulgence of wondering what it would be like to live that life, to have Elliot as her husband, to love a precious baby with him, to share a bit of that phenomenal love she saw pouring out of the man she'd thought she knew so well. She'd come to terms with her desire for a child, accepted it as an instinct, but she'd never really wanted a husband, never thought she'd care to be so entangled with someone. It was hard at her age to understand she desperately wanted something she probably could have easily attained had she only realized it sooner.
Still somewhat shaky, Olivia decided she needed to get far, far away from her partner before she jumped him, baby and all. Being jumped by his partner was probably not a legitimate reason for the cradle to fall, she figured, certainly not in the eyes of the legal professionals Elliot would be facing in a few hours. "I should get going. You can let yourself out."
He moved in front of her, angling his head toward Eli. "Can I trouble you for some coffee? He likes to be held until he's done with breakfast."
"No problem." She hadn't thought her voice would give away her emotions so clearly and hated that the hoarse sound merited a concerned glance from Elliot. She faked a cough as she dumped the leftover from the night before and set a fresh pot brewing. It didn't take long, not with the way she removed the pot and put his mug directly under the filter. Her body and mind were threatening mutiny and she thought it would be best to get Elliot and Eli away from her before she decided to chain them up in her apartment and keep them as her own. Dumping in enough sugar to make taffy, she handed Elliot his mug and thought about telling him to take it with him.
But that would be rude, so she didn't say anything. He passed Eli to her as he took the mug, amusing her when he took one sip before reaching for more sugar. She concentrated on Eli, trying to focus on him rather than her newly rekindled desperation for a baby of her own. He finished before Elliot did, returning to his attempts to suck on her hair.
And then in a flash, before Olivia had a chance to recognize the distress on Eli's face, there was a burp and a stream of wet, sticky, disgusting smelling white ooze dripping down her shoulder.
"Ugh!" She stretched out her arms, instinctively keeping Eli from his own spit up, shaking her head at him while Elliot laughed. "Yup, we've got another charming Stabler here."
"Hey, I never puked on you." Elliot set his mug down, accepting Eli back into his arms as Olivia pulled her shirt over her head.
She heard his voice on her way to get another shirt, his goofy, baby talk voice, telling Eli that was exactly why Mr. Grouchy pants didn't wear shirts at breakfast time.
"You could have warned me." She wasn't really mad, in fact, she was slightly pleased she'd had the momentary chance to torture Elliot, if it had even worked, when she peeled her shirt off and stood before him in a sports bra. Although she hadn't gotten to enjoy it, she was hopeful that the shirtless pheromone tricked worked in reverse.
Elliot was settling Eli back in his carrier when she returned. She spotted his shirt lying across the back of the couch and handed it to him, taking the forgotten mug from the previous night from him in exchange. She dropped it in the sink, along with the new one, sighing as she glanced at the clock. Her run was getting cut short, but she wasn't too upset. Not as long as Elliot was in a decent mood.
Eli was tucked back in and Elliot's shirt was in place when he followed her. He set Eli on the counter, giving Olivia another chance to nuzzle him.
"Mr. Grouchy pants is stealing you, buddy. Tell him you want to stay here."
As if he understood, Eli reached out and made a grab for Olivia's hair.
Elliot smiled at her. "He likes you. You should see him when Maureen talks to him. He screams like he's being murdered."
She turned to touch Eli's soft skin one more time. "Maybe he remembers me. I was the first one to hold him."
"Could be. Kathy does like to remind me that, unlike me, you've actually witnessed the birth of one of my kids."
With her finger trapped in Eli's slobbery fist, Olivia laughed. "Mr. Grouchy pants a.k.a. Mr. Reliable."
"Hey, I was Mr. Reliable last night, wasn't I?"
She turned back to face him and he was right there, way too close, his fingers playing along her chin, gently brushing the sore flesh of her cheek. She couldn't breathe because she knew his shirt wasn't doing anything to muffle the scent, the one that threatened to make her turn into a puddle at his feet.
"How's it feeling?"
She tried to smile, wishing he would stop touching her so she could think. "Like I got punched in the face." She looked at the clock, no longer quite able to make sense of the numbers. "You should probably get moving, huh?"
"In a minute."
He was stalling. Obviously. Even if he had wanted coffee, the coffee was gone. He was still there. Eli was packed. Elliot was dressed. And yet, there he was, in her space, his fingers on her skin, his body so close to hers.
Where the hell had the jerk from the previous day gone?
She let out a shaky breath, finally meeting his eyes. She was shaking, she realized, and with his hand on her face, he had to know it. And then he stepped closer, his head leaning in the opposite direction, his chin jutting forward.
There was one heart-stopping moment as she recognized the choreography, the position of his head, the lowered gaze of his eyes, the motion of his other hand.
She could barely take in a breath before he connected with her, his face, his hand, his body, his lips, his tongue. He was taking advantage of her surprise, she knew. Normally a kiss, a first kiss, was light and hesitant, slow and careful, contact of just lips, maybe tongues, maybe hands. But his was not. His whole body was flush against hers, one hand holding her head in place, one holding her hips. His mouth was open, his lips demanding, his tongue certain. There was nothing unsure about his body language as he explored her mouth, stealing her breath, invading her space, branding her skin.
He'd wanted to do it for a long time. He'd had long enough to plan it, to know where exactly to put his hands, to be able to position himself so squarely in front of her, around her, inside her, that she would have no choice but to let him, to open herself up to him. The idea that he'd thought about it, that he wanted it enough to plan it, astounded her.
And she knew, from her undeniable, unavoidable, unquestionable response, that he was well aware of her feelings for him, the feelings she hadn't even realized until the previous night. It was scary to acknowledge that he knew her so well, that he could read her so easily. But it was comforting as well. Because he did know. Because he was kissing her anyway.
It made her love him even more.
