Elliot's been saying and doing all the right things since their night of Chinese food and scary movies. He's really trying to regain her trust and she's working on letting go of any residual negative feelings she has for him.
In spending the last two weeks with him Olivia's recognized that things are different. She enjoys time with him without the pretense of a case.
Without the job or familial obligations coming between them, being with him is easy. Not that she's with him. But…things are good.
Her stitches come out today and he's volunteered to drive her to the hospital for the procedure. Olivia insisted that it wasn't going to take long and that she'd be fine alone. Elliot reminded her that she was consistently at his hospital visits, so she gave in.
He said he wants to do something with her afterwards, something she's never done before. As many ways as there are to take that, Olivia doesn't think he means anything sexual by it. They've never exactly worked that way. But she's feeling a shift between them. If he initiated an intimate relationship with her, Olivia hasn't thought far ahead enough that she'd know what she'd do.
The idea unnerves her a bit so she tries to think of something else. It's Friday so she's lucky to have gotten her hair appointment and mani/pedi out of the way yesterday.
Grocery shopping had immediately followed because she managed to knock all the dust off the one cookbook she does own to find something doable.
Olivia has to admit. The time she's been off work has not been bad. She feels rested, her mood is positive more often than not and she hasn't hated reconnecting with her former partner. The time away from SVU has been just the renewal she needed.
The next time she takes a vacation, she's thinking no one will have to force her. It damned sure won't require her being shot before hand.
She knows that cooking is not something she makes a habit of doing but she wants to reward Elliot for sitting through her afternoon appointment. That and it's been awhile since she's had anyone to cook for.
Olivia marinated four chicken breasts in olive oil and various spices before putting them into the refrigerator last night. The rest of the meal won't take that long to prepare.
She's looking forward to surprising him. He doesn't realize that not having the time to cook and not being able to cook are two different things.
Olivia is also happy to be getting back to work on Monday. She's missed wearing her badge and the weight of her gun on her hip. She also misses her coworkers, the terrible coffee and just being in the squad room.
What she isn't excited for is the return to her hectic schedule. Olivia and Elliot are just getting reacquainted and she's afraid of what that'll mean for them. Even if she and Elliot just end up as they were, Olivia's happy to have him in her life again.
After blow drying her hair, applying make-up and getting dressed she takes out the chicken she'd left to marinate overnight. She hopes that it turns out as well as the recipe pictures looked.
A couple of hours later and her honey Dijon chicken smells wonderful. She'll reheat it later when she's making the asparagus and seasoned rice to go along with it.
When she hears two knocks on the door she looks at her watch. It's 12:30pm and he's right on time.
"Hey," she says opening the door to let him in. Olivia returns to the kitchen to put the chicken in the refrigerator until later.
"Hey yourself," he tells her, following her inside. "What smells so good," he asks, on her heels as she returns to the kitchen.
Elliot tries to open the fridge but Olivia steps in front of it stopping him.
"You'll find out later," she tells him. "If you're good," she adds, mocking him.
He raises an eyebrow at her knowing Olivia's making fun of him.
"Ha, ha," Elliot says. "I'm hungry," he whines.
She shakes her head at his pitiful antics, as she grabs her bag and heads for the door.
"Come on you big baby before you make me late," she tells him. "It's not my fault you didn't eat first."
It takes all of ten minutes to remove her stitches after her name is called. Prior to that Elliot had been sitting beside Olivia in the waiting room, fidgeting like a 6 year-old.
She doesn't understand how he could sit in a car for hours without moving after drinking multiple cups of coffee, but a fifteen minute wait in the doctor's office killed him?
His face lit up like a fireworks display when she returned to the lobby.
"Ready," he asks, standing up.
"Yeah," she says, approaching him. "Maybe I'll show you my cool new scar later," she adds as they board the elevator.
"Really," he asks, giving her a mischievous grin.
"Down boy," she tells him, shaking her head. "It's not that exciting."
When they hit the ground floor they quickly find his sedan and he unsecures the alarm from his keychain.
"Because I was such a good girl and didn't cry," Olivia mocks, getting into the car. "What exactly do I get," she asks.
"First we're gonna stop for food because I'm nearly weak from hunger," he responds, starting the engine. "The rest is a surprise."
"I'm a cop remember," she says. "I don't like surprises."
"We'll just see about that," he answers, pulling away from the curb.
Several hours later after two hotdogs and two three lap races on a mini Grand Prix track, their stomachs lead them back to Olivia's apartment.
"Oh, quit pouting," she tells him, trying and failing to hold back her laughter as she opens the door.
"You let me take the wheel most of the time when we were partners," he reasons. "I didn't know you could even drive like that," he says, hanging his jacket on a coat hook.
"Sometimes I feel the need-the need for speed," she says, laughing as she lays her three replica NASCAR checkered flags on the coffee table.
"Did you really just quote Top Gun Liv," he asks, resting on her sofa.
"Hey it fits," she answers, entering the kitchen to turn on the oven.
"I think he gave you the faster car because he has a little crush on you," he excuses.
Olivia washes her hands, puts the chicken in the oven and puts a pot of water on the stove to boil.
"Never took you for a sore loser before Elliot," she tells him from the kitchen.
"I've been jealous, overprotective and downright surly," he begins. "What part of me being a sore loser is shocking?"
Olivia stops and thinks for two seconds before shrugging her shoulders. The man has a valid point.
"Why don't you make yourself useful and find some music I can listen to while I'm cooking," she says as she peeks her head out at him.
Elliot gets up looking for a radio before he realizes it was right in front of him. She has an mp3 player docked into a small boombox.
When he turns it on he peruses her musical selections for a minute. Some of it he's aware of from her tastes in radio stations from long stakeouts, others he senses have been added by someone other than Olivia.
Then he finds it.
Norah Jones, Come Away With Me. The unassuming stereo is surprisingly good at filling the room with clear, crisp sound.
Olivia has played that song a million times. It's one of her absolute favorites. It gives her a slow, flirtatious smile and makes her think of making love as a rainstorm rages outside her window. The melody inspires visions of carefree Saturdays walking in the park and lazy Sundays in bed. She's always loved it.
After a couple of songs, the seasoned rice is finished so she turns it down to a low simmer. The asparagus bakes slowly along with the reheating of the chicken.
When Olivia enters the living room to check on Elliot he's standing near her window looking out at the rain that's quietly begun to fall. Darkness has blanketed the city and the water is reflecting off the streetlights. He seems to be lost in thought but one side of his mouth is turned up in a grin.
"What's so amusing," she asks, coming to stand behind him.
"Nothing, just," he begins, pausing to think. "Happy," he adds, turning to face her.
His smile is infectious. He takes the step towards her closing the distance between them and places both hands on her waist.
"Dance with me," he says, beginning to sway back and forth.
Olivia hesitates a moment before putting her arms around his shoulders. She told someone once a long time ago that she didn't dance. Perhaps she was just waiting for the right song or the right partner.
Elliot pulls her closer.
"Is this okay," he whispers into her ear.
In response to his words she holds tighter to him, placing her forehead on his shoulder. When the music stops he continues to sway.
"El the food," she tells him, pulling away.
Olivia feels it again…that shift. No one has ever doubted their chemistry. But acting on it was never an option for them before. There was always an obstacle.
But with those obstacles gone she's allowing herself to feel what's always been there. The fact that it's more than just physical attraction is scaring her.
To know Elliot the cop, the partner, the friend has been different than what he's shared with her over the time they've spent reconnecting.
This man is more open. He says what he's feeling and he's unselfish. This Elliot isn't afraid to touch her, doesn't worry about what everyone else thinks and puts Olivia and her needs first. Yet, still she waits for something to go wrong.
He follows her back to the kitchen, planting himself on a stool to watch her work.
"I can't believe you actually cooked," he pokes.
"Yeah well I don't often get the opportunity or the desire to," she tells him. "It doesn't mean I'm incapable."
"I can see that," he says, not hiding the fact that he's watching her.
She has no response for it so she just smiles and continues working. Olivia isn't yet used to Elliot looking at her so unguarded.
She prepares two plates of food and grabs a bottle of Chardonnay. She pours while he takes his first bites.
"Oh that's good Liv," he says, smiling around his fork. "You should definitely turn that thing on more often," he adds, pointing to her oven.
She laughs sitting down next to him. Olivia's pleased with the way the food turned out; she'll definitely make the recipe again.
"There's more if you want it," she tells him after they've finished.
"I'm full but thank you," he answers. "And since you cooked, I'll clean up," he tells her, clearing the plates from the counter. "Why don't you take the wine into the living room and find something else to listen to," he suggests.
Olivia agrees and watches from the sofa. Elliot moves around her kitchen like he's at home, loading her dishwasher, wiping down the counters and putting away the food.
She guesses she has Kathy to thank for that. The man is well trained.
Olivia scrolls through her mp3 player; looking for something they can listen to when her fingers hit play of their own accord.
Leela James, When You Love Somebody.
It's a little bluesy, a little soulful. Melinda exposed it to her to it last year and it immediately gelled.
Elliot leans against the kitchen counter listening to the lyrics of the song. He watches as Olivia takes slow steps to the same spot at her window that he was drawn to. She uses her finger to trace a single drop of rain as it streams down the glass.
He has to wonder what she must be thinking in choosing the music. Or, more importantly who she's thinking of.
He approaches her from behind just as the song finishes, putting his hand on the small of her back.
"So, that song-"
"Yeah," she says, responding to his unanswered question. "I heard it in Melinda's lab shortly after you put your papers in," she rasps and it feels like a confession.
Elliot turns her away from the window so he can see her face.
She forgot that the music also reminds her of his swift exit from her life and that the result from the memory is often an emotional one.
Olivia is glassy eyed and looks down, embarrassed about getting weepy over a song. Elliot tips her chin up with his index finger so that she's staring into his eyes. Then he takes the pads of his thumbs and catches the tears as they fall, wiping them away.
"Olivia," he says, with a voice breaking like it did in the hospital. "I'm sorry for ever hurting you," he manages. "For every time and in every way I've done that," he adds.
He cradles her face in his hands slowly placing tender kisses to her forehead and both cheeks and repeating 'I'm sorry' before each one. He hesitates before lowering his mouth to hers, giving her time to pull away or think better of it.
Elliot's lips just cover hers initially, testing their boundaries. When she doesn't object he slides his lips over hers, suckling on her bottom lip before stealing into her mouth.
She finds herself placing her hands on his back, pulling him towards her as she did while they were dancing. The feel of his body against hers, his unique scent and the way he's tenderly kissing her is vastly putting the idea of simple friendship out of Olivia's mind.
Elliot moves his hands from her face to thread them through her hair. As they break to breathe, he trails small kisses along her jaw before pulling back.
"I think I should go now," he tells her, removing his hands from her altogether. "I can't promise to behave myself," he says, stuffing his fingers into his front pockets for emphasis.
Olivia smiles at the gesture. She puts one hand on her hip and the other to her lips, smiling in disbelief. If he kept kissing her like that, she's surprised to find she doesn't think she could control herself either.
"I'll walk you out then," she tells him.
Elliot grabs his jacket from a nearby coat hook when they take the short trip to her front door.
"Thanks for dinner," he says. "It was really good," he adds, putting on his jacket.
"Thank you for coming with me today," Olivia tells him. "And for taking me to the track," she adds. "I had a lot of fun."
"You're welcome," he says, standing awkwardly at her front door.
"This is kind of weird huh," she comments, grinning.
"Yeah it is," he returns, smiling along with her. "But I really want to kiss you goodnight Liv," he admits, being serious again.
Olivia takes a step towards him, putting her arms around his neck.
"I'm not stopping you," she tells him.
Elliot wastes no time leaning down, covering his lips with hers again. He feels Olivia step into him, getting impossibly closer.
She's kissing him this time, exploring his mouth learning how he tastes. Her hands move to the front of his chest feeling the taut muscles beneath the thin t-shirt he wears. Before she realizes what she's doing her hands are smoothing his jacket over his shoulders and down his arms letting it fall to the floor.
His mouth on her skin is dangerous. Elliot kisses fire from her collar bone to a small spot below her ear and she wants more. She needs to touch him. Olivia steals her hands beneath the shirt, exploring his expansive chest with her fingertips. She finds herself up against her front door as they discover one another.
Elliot's hands smooth up her abdomen until she feels him palming her breasts beneath her shirt. When he swipes a thumb over an erect nipple, she fails to stifle a moan. When he does it again, she doesn't bother trying.
She pushes away from the door, grasping his face and attacking his lips again. Elliot holds onto her waist before moving his hands south over her ass.
"El wait," she says, breathlessly.
He immediately stops, taking his hands off her.
"I'm sorry-I got carried away-we're going too fast," he babbles.
Olivia steps towards him, placing her hands against his chest.
"It's not-It's not too fast El," she says, grinning.
"Then what's wrong," he asks, concern lacing his voice.
To Olivia it's just one more reason why she feels like she's not about to make a mistake with him.
"I'll be right back," she tells him. "Don't go anywhere," she orders, offering him a flirtatious grin as she walks away.
Elliot nods as he watches her enter her bedroom. He returns to his spot at the window, staring down at the street below. The foul weather has people hurrying along to their respective places. He can see multicolored umbrellas moving about like large mushrooms. The yellow cabs are a contrast to the gray pavement they drive on.
When she enters her bedroom Olivia doesn't hesitate. She goes straight to the top drawer of her dresser, pulling out one of the purchases she made the day Elliot found her in Greenwich Village.
She goes to the bathroom to freshen up a bit, touch up her make-up and reapply her lip gloss.
Elliot turns when he hears Olivia return from her bedroom. He puts one hand on his hip and the other he rubs his chin with as if in deep thought. Elliot quirks one side of his mouth up into a devilish grin. He moistens then bites his bottom lip as he eyes her from her pedicured toes to her tanned legs to her smiling face.
Olivia is wearing a deep purple silk robe with lavender lace designs on the shoulders. It stops just before her knees and if Elliot's current expression is any indication of how he feels with it on, Olivia can't wait to see his face once he sees what's underneath.
She has one hand on her hip and the other is playing with the belt that's holding the robe closed.
"You ready to see my cool new scar?"
Alrighty people. It's that time again. Do I really have to beg every single time I post a new chapter? I do? Okay then. Please, please, please review and do so with something other than, "more please" or "loved it" or my personal favorite "update soon". Thank you...carry on...lol.