Chapter One

The tip of a pointed stiletto brushed the hem of expensive Italian tailoring, running its velour higher and higher up a muscular calf. Deep brown eyes (darker than he could ever remember) watched him carefully over their owner's Cabernet Sauvignon and poorly concealed smile and Elliot Stabler gave himself a mental slap over ever being nervous about this.

Olivia had finally said yes to his request for a date, on the condition that it was just the two of them.

He'd been keen to involve Noah in whatever this was, more for his own curiosity than anything else. It had been a year since he had returned to New York City, but he still hadn't found the courage to ask about Noah and his father (presumably 'Ed', the one who had died). He wanted to get to know the boy, to find out everything he had missed in the years he had ghosted her. More than that, he wanted to make sure there had been moments of happiness in those 10 years.

But when Olivia Benson had requested it be just the two of them, to allow him to "wine and dine" her? How on Earth could he refuse.

He had picked her up in his truck, adorned in his navy suit and bright blue tie - the one he knew she loved so much. He'd stopped at a flower stall earlier, picking up the bright pink dahlias Kathleen had remembered Olivia used to love so much ("'Livia won't like red roses, dad"), wrapped in brown paper and tied simply with a little piece of string.

Knocking on her front door, he had been shocked at the sight which met his eyes.

While Olivia had aged since he first met her (she had been 31, and he was 32) she had only gotten more breathtaking as her curves filled out and those little lines appeared at the corners of her eyes. Tonight was no exception.

Her hair was highlighted these days, and longer too, falling in soft curls just above the swell of her breasts. Her makeup was light and dewy, with eyes surrounded by light brown shadow and her lips only partially covered by a clear gloss. Her nails were freshly manicured and her long, tanned legs looked particularly long in baby pink stilettos which brought her to approximately his height.

Her dress made his mouth dry, with the way the black silk fabric clung to her curves and the little dip in front showing a generous amount of cleavage. He followed the line of the long silver chain down to her breasts with a little schoolboy grin.

When his eyes met hers once more, he saw his grin matched (though she didn't comment on his staring) and followed her into the apartment.

Now, sitting in the dull light and trendy music of an upscale (and overpriced) bistro, his eyes followed her every move.

As she sliced off a slither of steak and popped it into her mouth, he watched her glossy lips move with each chew. Her steak order of medium-well was offensive, but the way she made each action beautiful more than made up for it.

"How are the kids? How's Bernie?" She had asked, and somehow he loved her all the more for it. He took a sip of his own wine (why was his mouth so dry?) and looked back at her once more.

"They're very excited, come to mention it. Especially, Katie - she's always loved you."

Olivia's face reddened, though she had always known of the ways in which Kathleen idolised her. It was somewhat mutual though, for Olivia couldn't be more proud of how far the young woman had come. From the girl with a poorly managed mental health condition, who was arrested and acted out - to now a young woman who gave selflessly to her family and had made a life for herself in the wake of her mother's violent death.

"She has always been my favourite Stabler, but don't tell the rest of them."

"Oh, I think they know."

Olivia took one of the fries they had ordered and resumed the path of her stiletto up the curve of his calves, watching in satisfaction as he choked on the bite of his own steak (how horrible his rare New York strip steak looked). Reaching across the table, his hand settled on top of hers.

"I was going to ask you how Noah's dancing is going, but I'm finding it really difficult to concentrate when your feet are doing that?"

"Would you like me to stop?"

Elliot chuckled, "God no."

Their hands remained entwined as they finished off their dinner and drained their wine, only separating when Elliot had finally acquired the check. His hand grazed her lower back as he led her out of the restaurant and kept her upright as she tried to walk in her heels. Much as he was a big fan of Olivia in any heels, he was more concerned with the stability of her ankle (it wasn't so long ago it had been fractured in the accident, after all).

And as she slid into the passenger seat, he smiled at the ease with which she browsed his Spotify (settling on Fleetwood Mac) and took hold of his hand once more in the console.

Olivia Benson was good at a lot of things, but God, singing really wasn't one of them. As she sang the opening verse of Dreams, her voice was in a completely different key than Stevie Nicks - but his heart had never felt more full than in this moment. In contrast to the Olivia who had been playing footsie with him at the bistro, this version of her was decidedly more wholesome.

It was with that thought that he only squeezed her hand tighter, giving her a countdown just before the chorus. And when she inevitably still missed the beat, they dissolved into a fit of laughter that was almost distracting from the road in front of him.

He loved this woman, so much.

"So, are you coming in?" she asked, turning to him as he shut the engine off. "I have a very nice bottle of scotch upstairs."

Elliot grinned, "Well, how could I possibly say no to a very nice bottle of scotch?"