Summary: Elliot has to return to work immediately after Christmas and then one horrid crime scene shakes him to his core. He turns to the only person who can understand and comfort him.

AN: Sorry it took so long to update. I could offer a million excuses (work, holidays, etc) that are all true. But I also really just struggled with this chapter. I wanted it to feel real and authentic. I'm still not sure I hit all the right notes, but I hope you enjoyed it.

And this story is near it's end. I think there will only be one more chapter. Thank you so much for reading!

Please note the rating increase.

Elliot had to return to work in the days after Christmas before New Years. And work he did. It frustrated him to no end. But organized criminals didn't take off much time for the holidays so neither did his unit. They were working on insights to a new suspect and by Wednesday that week he had put in back-to-back 14-hour days. He'd barely had time to text Olivia each day, let alone actually think about what had happened on Christmas—her surprise kiss and finally telling him that she was ready to date. He was tempted to ask her out at that moment but opted for tasting her again. He didn't regret his choice, but he really wished he had the time to plan a date.

He's currently at his desk trying to work through security footage late that night when an emergency call to rush to a crime scene comes through. Apparently, a hit had been ordered on a high up "accountant" who oversaw keeping track of laundered money, but who had been skimming off the top to pay his own debts.

The hired gun apparently had no qualms with taking his innocent family with him.

Elliot arrived on scene with Jamie around 10:50 p.m. Bell had beaten him there, coming from her place, and Jet and Reyes were following behind them, also coming from the OC headquarters.

He patted the younger detective on the back as they walked up to the house, "I don't know what kind of horrors you've witnessed on the job, but make sure you don't puke your holiday leftovers on this scene. Hold it in, okay?"

Elliot's warning had the tone of a joke, but they both knew he was serious. The call had enough description that they knew they were walking into a bloodbath, and it involved at least one child.

"Alright Officers, what do we—" Elliot starts to ask, but his voice disappears when he sees him .

It's a young boy, no older than 8 with brown curly hair that's fanned out over a pool of blood. He's dressed in his flannel pajamas, but he has on a coat and bright white sneakers with a lime green sole covering his feet instead of slippers.

And suddenly, it's Noah .

Noah is dead on the floor.

It's Noah's blood slowly staining the carpet.

Oh god! No! It can't be him!

Elliot runs out of the house as fast as his feet will carry him. He catches his elbow on a doorway and nearly flattens one of the responding local officers.

Jamie and Ayanna share questioning looks before they both run after him.

"Elliot!" Ayanna shouts as she gives chase. "Elliot!"

Elliot refuses to slow down until he makes it to his car. He yells over his shoulder as he yanks open the door e and slides into the seat, "I've gotta go…I've gotta check on him...I can't…I can't…"

Ayanna sees the frightened and panicked look on Elliot's face and knows he's experiencing something right now. She's not sure what, but she knows that whatever it is, it's more important than this crime scene. Detective Whelan is standing just a few feet behind her and both Jet and Reyes are en route.

It's not even twenty minutes later when Elliot pulls up in front of her building. Despite his frantic state he knows he has to notify Olivia that he's here. She would kill him if he just pounded on her door at this time of night. He also knows that he would completely terrify Noah.

If he's there.

Of course he's there.

I just need to see him. I have to make sure.

He calls her over and over and over again until she finally picks up.

Her voice is groggy with sleep, "Elliot, do you know what time it is?"

"Let me in, Liv," Elliot demands without offering any explanation.

She can tell from his voice that something's the matter, but she's going to need more. She needs to know why he's here, at her place at nearly midnight. "What's going on?"

"You need to let me in," he growls and punches the wall of the elevator, desperate and unable to explain.

"Elliot, is everything alright?"

"Just be ready to open your goddamn door!" He's yelling in the elevator. She can hear his voice echo slightly and the ding of the elevator as it reaches her floor in the background.

She would refuse his demands if she couldn't hear the fear in his voice. She can tell that he's not high like he was while he was undercover. No. He's distraught .

"I'm coming El," she promises, trying to ease his panic. "I'll be there in just a second."

She's tugging on her robe with one hand as she juggles her phone and trying to unlock the chain on her front door with her other.

"Where's Noah? He's here, right?" Elliot asks as soon as he crosses the threshold, ready to march through her apartment to her son.

Olivia stops him with her body, standing directly in front of him, making herself broad and steady so he has no choice but to stop. "Elliot, tell me what's going on right now ."

Elliot tries to push past her. "He's in his room?"

But she doesn't allow it. She pushes back on his chest with a straight arm, ready to completely block him if he doesn't answer her.

He looks at her, almost furious that she's standing between him and Noah, unwittingly stopping him from his mission to make sure that boy is safe and sound.

"Damnit Elliot! You answer me right now!" She commands in a rough whisper when he doesn't answer, placing a hand on his face, yanking it so he's forced to look at her, to hear her.

Her tone sinks through his mania. She is serious, like a lioness protecting her cub.

"I have to see him, Liv. I need to make sure he's alright," his voice falls as he answers, though he's still breathing heavily through his nose. The images of the young boy on the floor flashing through his mind.

"Is he in danger?" she asks clearly, almost punctuating each word.

"No…no," Elliot shakes his head, his eyes still wide on hers, hoping that she can see that he's telling the truth. "I promise that I'll explain. But I just need to see him first."

She believes him. She has no idea what's going on in his head, but Olivia believes that Noah's not in any danger at this moment. She steps aside and lets Elliot pass her. He rushes down the hall, taking only a second to calm himself before he quietly opens Noah's door.

She watches from the doorway as he bends over and gently tugs Noah's blanket down and brushes away a ring of curls so he can see the boy's entire face.

Only then does the tension leave Elliot's body. He looks at Noah for a solid minute, taking in every inch of the boy's face. He's asleep. Peaceful. And snoring slightly, in the way that children do in deep sleep.

Finally, Elliot kneels on the floor next to Noah's bed, his head bowed, and palms pressed together. Olivia can tell that he's praying over her son at that moment. Begging his God to watch over Noah, to protect him and guard him.

She realizes what probably happened tonight. It has happened to her hundreds of times.

Noah, seemingly sensing the change in his room, opens an eye and croaks sleepily, "Elliot, is that you?"

"Hey bud," Elliot answers him quietly, pressing a soft hand to Noah's chest, feeling his heartbeat.

"What are you doing here?" Noah asks, as he starts to sit.

Elliot stops his movements with his hand on Noah's chest. "I was just in the neighborhood, and I wanted to stop by and peek in on you. I've missed you lately."

Noah eyes Elliot skeptically. He recognizes the emotions on Elliot's face. He's seen them on his mom's face countless times. It's a look of tense relief, like they have a million thoughts in their head, but they are also really happy to see him. His mom won't always tell him what's wrong, but she will always give him an extra tight hug, squeezing him for longer than normal. He wonders if Elliot needs the same thing.

"Did you want a hug?" Noah asks from his back, still being held down, though he lifts his arms towards Elliot.

"Yea, that's exactly what I want." Elliot answers back quietly as he leans in and embraces the small boy, almost lifting him completely out of his bed as he holds him tightly to his chest.

"Thank you," he whispers before he lets go, laying him back down and ruffling Noah's curls. "Now go back to sleep, I'm sorry I woke you."

Elliot stands and walks toward the door, his entire body sagging, exhausted from the emotional ride it has just been on.

"Will you be here when I get up?" Noah asks just as Elliot steps into the hall. Elliot looks to Olivia, knowing the answer is really her call. She shrugs and nods.

"Yea bud, I'll be here."

When he finally joins her in the hall and shuts Noah's door, Olivia wraps him in a tight hug and he nuzzles into her neck, letting her warm sleepy scent soothe him. They stand there for a while, just holding each other, before Olivia pulls back.

"Are you ready to tell me what happened?"

His eyes go to his hands, and he notices the blood. He doesn't recall getting blood on his hands or even touching anything at the crime scene. Maybe it's his own blood. He doesn't recall hitting anything, but he can see that his knuckles on his right hand are split.

"Elliot…El," she calls to him, waiting for him to look at her. His eyes are glassy. Now that his panic and fear are gone, fatigue and relief and sadness are starting to settle in and it's overwhelming.

"How about you take a shower? I think washing this day off of you…along with your panic sweats," Olivia tries to joke but it falls on deaf ears, "will make you feel better."

He nods, but she's not sure he actually heard what she said.

Taking him by the forearm, she guides him into the bathroom. He stands quietly in front of the door while she pulls out a clean towel and washcloth, turns on the shower, and adds a couple drops of oil for a relaxing scent.

When she turns back to him, he's still standing there, watching her, waiting for her cue. She recognizes this comatose-like state, having been in it before. She knows his body feels heavy and his head is probably pounding or completely empty.

She steps up to him and pushes his coat to the floor, then his jacket. He doesn't move to help her. His eyes just follow her hands, giving her the silent consent, she needs to continue. Piece by piece his clothing falls to a pile on the floor. Normally she'd fold them and sit them on the sink counter, but they are already wrinkled from his long day and his shirt is soaked with sweat. It all needs to be washed. Soon he's standing in front of her in nothing but a pair of navy boxer briefs.

"Can you?" Olivia nods towards the shower, asking that he can take it from here, that he doesn't need her help to clean up. She would if he needed her to. But she thinks if he takes a couple deep breaths, he can handle showering.

Elliot's voice is rough and scratchy when he tells her, "Yea, I got it."

Olivia runs her hands over his chest, warming his goose-pimpled skin. "I'll grab you some clothes. There is soap in there. Take your time, okay?"

He nods again and finally takes a step towards the shower. He waits for her to leave before he drops his briefs and steps under the hot water. It feels too hot at first, but then it feels pacifying and, eventually, reinvigorating.

He's able to dissect his thoughts in the steam and soothing scent of the oils.

That boy was not Noah, he tells himself. Noah is safe. He's asleep in his bed and he's safe.

With that thought he grabs the washcloth that Olivia set on the shower ledge for him and begins to wash. It stings his knuckles, but he continues. He can't name the scent, but it smells good, it complements the scent of the oil he saw her drop into the shower when she turned on the water. Grinning softly, he makes a note to tease her about her essential oils later. For now, he will enjoy how the smells make him feel, how it's unique but also so essentially her , and how the water relaxes his tense muscles.

He doesn't waste much more time in the shower once he's clean. He dries off the best he can in the shower after he flips the tap, then steps out with the fluffy towel wrapped around his waist.

"El?" Olivia's voice comes through the door.

He realizes that she must have been waiting outside the door to hear the water turn off.

"Yea?" he calls back.

"I have some clothes here for you, sweats and a t-shirt. Even some socks if you want."

He pulls the door open, allowing some of the heat and humidity to escape. "Thank you," he says as he takes the clothes.

"Are you hungry? I can scrounge something up for you?"

"Nah, I don't think I can eat," he answers, shaking his head. He pats the clothes in his hands, "I–I'll be right out."

"Take your time," she tells him again.

When he opens the door and steps in the dark hallway, he notices that the kitchen and living room are also dark. He follows the only bit of light he sees, which is a thin line coming from the direction of her bedroom. The door is cracked, and it looks as if a small table lamp is on.

He raps his knuckles on the door as he opens it a little wider. "Olivia?"

"Come on in, El," she answers from her bed. She's resting against the headboard, her head tilted with her eyes focused on her phone.

"I got a message from Ayanna, telling me that you ran out of a crime scene, and asking if you are alright. What happened?"

"Yea, I just…I saw…" he shakes his head and clears his throat, trying to find the words to explain his alarm.

She knows what he saw. She's seen it… Noah , countless times when she's reported to a crime scene with a young boy. It used to happen frequently, several times a year, and it still happens from time to time. When she was younger and his partner, she'd see his children. A blonde pre-teen girl or an ornery looking boy at a scene, and they all became his brood, their faces passing through her thoughts and her heart would wrench. She wouldn't breathe properly until he'd say something off hand, mentioning that they were alright. She never told him then, feeling it wasn't her place to care so much about his family. But she did. And she knows that he cares about hers.

"What was it? His hair? Or maybe his new coat?" Olivia asks, trying to find the exact trigger.

His eyes widen then furrow with the realization that she knows exactly what he saw. What his mind saw because Noah was absolutely not there on that floor. He just saw Noah in his bed, sleeping soundly. He'd hugged him and promised him that he would be there for breakfast.

Reading his face, she confirms. "It's happened to me before. Especially when Noah was a toddler. Every child under the age of three was him. I saw his face flash in my mind, every time. And at least three times I ran from a room so fast, barely containing my lunch."

"Shoes," Elliot whispers, looking at the floor. "It was his shoes. You know the ones with the bright green on them? And curls, the boy had curls…well, wavy hair and it was the wrong shade…but he had on those damn sneakers."

She nods, waiting for him to go on, but he doesn't. "Are you okay now?"

He inhales deeply and takes an assessment of his body. He's still a little shaky and his muscles ache and are heavy, but mentally, he's doing better. "I think so."

"Then get into bed. You need sleep," she tells him as she nods at the other side of the bed and turns to reach for the light, flipping the switch.

Elliot had assumed that she'd send him on his way after they'd talked or that'd at least sleep on the couch. But he doesn't waste a second. He walks to the far side of the bed and slides under the covers, not letting any anxiety or second guessing hold him back.

He wants to be here, in this bed with her. And she apparently does as well, or she wouldn't have asked him to join her. Olivia's sanctuary and if she felt that he was a threat to that, she'd call his Sergeant and have her haul his ass out of here like she did once before.

Olivia's not used to the way the bed dips with the weight of a second body or to the heat that builds quickly under the blankets. She's definitely not used to his hand holding hers, flat against the mattress. His thumb rubs over the knuckle of her pinkie, wishing that he could tug her into his body and hold her tight.

She can still feel the tension he's holding. Worried that she's pushed him too far, she asks, "Is this too much? Do you want to go to the couch?"

"No, this is good…I just, uh—" he swallows, nervous that maybe he will be the one pushing too far with his next request. He's not really sure where the boundaries are currently, and she might not be comfortable with what he wants. "Can I…can I hold you?"

" Oh ."

"I'm sorry if that's—" he backtracks immediately, his body stiffens even more and he pulls his hands from hers, resting it on his own chest.

"No, El. It's fine," she answers, trying her best to convince him with her voice that this was okay. It was too dark for him to see her face, at least right now. Although she was surprised by his request, she wasn't put off by it or upset.

Olivia had taken the time while he was in the shower to decide how she was going to handle him this evening. She wanted him to stay, both selfishly to have him near to her and to keep an eye on him, not trusting his mental state to get home and be alone all night. And she knew and accepted that sleeping in the same bed would come with a level of intimacy created by the proximity that they'd never shared before. She'd resolved to allow herself to be vulnerable with Elliot as they moved forward in their relationship.

"I didn't mean to—"

"El, stop," she whispers as she starts to turn to her side, facing away from him.

He stops her, a hand on her hip, thumbing over the soft, worn cotton of her sleep pants. "Actually, uh…can you face me? I want to see you." His voice is quiet but strong despite the apprehension in his gut.

She smiles and rolls towards him. He's already on his side, one arm lifted creating space for her. She tucks herself in against his chest. He's solid and warm, but he doesn't quite smell like himself right now. Not after using her soap, the oils in the shower, and wearing an old shirt she'd kept tucked deep in her dresser. It's an odd combination for him. But there is comfort in his embrace. There has always been comfort in his arms, even when there shouldn't have been.

Gently she lays her arm in the junction between his shoulder and neck, cupping the back of head at the base. Taking her movements as a sign that she's okay with this closeness, he nudges her legs with his knee, sliding his knee just over hers, fully intertwining the lower halves of their bodies.

Elliot tucks his head down so he can see her face in the darkness and whispers due to their closeness. "Thank you for letting me in tonight. I know that I was a little, uh, unreasonable earlier. I'm sorry if I frightened you or Noah."

She snorts at his description. He was outright inconsolable. "You don't have to thank me."

"Yes, I do," he argues. "I've missed you, Liv."

She grins, "Me too."

"Christmas was so good. I really enjoyed it. I'm sorry that I've been so busy."

"I understand, El. I know how our work can get," Olivia assures him, scratching her nails at the base of his skull.

He inhales deeply, relaxing in her touch. "I'm glad to be here with you now."

He leans down and kisses the soft skin of her temple at the edge of her hairline, planning to hug her close and succumb to sleep. But when he pulls back, he sees her eyes flutter closed and her lips parted to let a small breath pass. So he leans in again and covers her mouth gently, trying to catch her exhale and hoping that she's okay with his kiss.

His lips are soft and timid. He's not sure if he's crossing a boundary. Even though they've kissed before, that doesn't mean it's okay to kiss her now, wrapped up in her bed, and after he's had some sort of emotional turmoil.

But she reaches up, cupping his cheek, his two-day old stubble prickly against her palm, and opens her mouth to him slightly. She's ready to comfort him, soothe the ache in his chest with her touch and love. This is all she's ever really wanted to be able to do. To be the one to provide him with safety and security, returning the favor after all these years.

He had been her home, the one person with whom she'd always felt loved and cared for and by. And she'd been homesick for a decade. Desperate to feel like she belonged anywhere, but never feeling quite settled since he'd left her. No matter where she had been or who she had been with, something was always missing. A deep ache in her soul was ever present.

As much as her kisses were comforting him, grounding him, reminding him that she was there and safe and that they were okay, they were repairing her, too. His presence and touch of his lips filled her body with warmth and promise. It was all she'd craved and she's not going to deprive herself any longer.

The warm breath from his nose mixes with hers and she tilts her head, the best she can in this position, and opens her mouth wider to him. Letting him take from her what he needs from her. And what she needs to give to him.

A groan rumbles in his chest and the timidness leaves his body. Elliot's hands tug her impossibly closer before diving in her hair, tangling, and down to her hip, squeezing forcing her supple body to meld against his. His tongue and lips are demanding, sweeping through her mouth, and sucking on her lips, nibbling when he dares.

He knows that tonight's probably not the night. But he can't help himself. Not when she tastes this good and feels this soft and pliant in his arms. Not when one of her small moans works its way to his ears. And not when her touch is energizing his body and her kisses are renewing his spirit.

Elliot slides his hand under her top, his warm palm runs up her back and rests between her shoulder blades, and his leg rises to press his thigh against her core. He knows that she has to be able to feel him growing against her stomach, but he wants her to know. He wants her to feel what she does to him, what she has always done to him. He wants her to know that he wants her now and always.

She hums into his mouth, deepening the kiss with the new pressure of his body, letting her hips shift subtly against his thigh. Her hands clutch at his back, and he can feel her nails digging into his skin through the soft t-shirt he's wearing.

He wants his shirt off so bad. He wants to feel her hand on his back, her nails rake over his skin. He wants so much more. He needs to feel her skin on his, her body under his, her body, wet and warm, around him. He's never needed anything more.

He mutters a quick, "this okay?" against her cheek when he moves to kiss her neck. It was only days ago when she said that she was ready to date, and she kissed him for the first time. They hadn't talked about it since. And even though she seems enthusiastic right now, he wants to make sure that she's fully on board. That she's not going to regret this tomorrow. He doesn't think he could handle the heartbreak if she pushed him away after they shared this . And as much as he wants to feel her pressed directly against him, under him, panting and crying his name, he wants to make sure she's ready to be there. If she wants to stop, he needs to know now.

"Hmmmm ," she hums again, her head tossed back to give him access.

He lifts up, waiting for her to look at him. Missing his hot breath scratching scruff on her skin, she tips her head back down. "Wha–"

"Is this…I mean," he tries to ask, his voice rough. He shakes his head, trying to gather his words. "Are we good here? I mean…to keep going?"

She cocks her head and eyes him, reading his entire expression and taking in the seriousness in his tone. She thinks for a moment, really considers what they are about to do. She wants this. She's wanted it for ages. But since he's been back and they've been on this particular journey together, she's been ready to move forward for a couple of weeks. Their kiss on Christmas only served to light a fire in her core, spike her desire for him. She is ready to have this with him, to finally be home and hopefully to be his home right now.

"Yes," she answers simply.

He scans her eyes, able to see them in the darkness. "Are you sure? I—I don't want to push you."

She creates a little distance between them, putting her hand on his pec, rubbing soothingly. "You aren't, El. I want this. I want you," she says looking at his chest before lifting her face to see him, making sure that despite his evening, he's in a good place. "Do you…is this…You've had a rough night."

"I didn't come here tonight for this," he assures her unnecessarily. She knows exactly why he came here. Elliot showed up at her door tonight because he couldn't help himself; he was consumed by fear and anxiety. He had one thought on his mind, and it was to see Noah, not trick Olivia into bed. But he can't, even for one second, let her think that he's here for anything more than she's willing to give.

"I know," she whispers.

He grins nervously, boyish but apprehensive, before he admits, "Yea, I want to."

She kisses him this time. It's a delicate peck, then another, then another, and then they are not so delicate.

The air heats between them again, this time without restraint.

She'd always thought it would be more awkward, less smooth. She assumed they'd make it back to one of their apartments after a date, the air would grow unbearably tense neither one unsure of how to initiate the next step. And once they make it to the bedroom, they'd have several misfires; teeth could clash; noses would bump; he'd grasp too hard and make some stupid comment about her breasts (she knows he's a tit guy).

But none of that happens.

They move in sync, as if this is the 100th time they've done this. Their bodies and lips meld together. Their clothes slowly melt away, again falling to the floor piece by piece, until she's flat on her back in only her underwear and he's nestled between her thighs completely nude. They'd snuck quick glances at each other as they'd undressed, but tonight is not a night for a playful examination of each other's bodies. It's about connection and love.

Elliot knows exactly how and where to touch her. He kisses down her neck and sternum, using the right scratch of his stubble to cause goosebumps on her skin. He works her breasts with the right pressure, squeezing and kissing and sucking, drawing on her nipples with his lips until they are wet and pebbled under his tongue.

Olivia knows just the right way to hold him, gripping his back and shoulders, holding him to her and shifting him from one breast to the other. She whispers much needed assurances in the dark, letting him know that he is what she wants and needs and that he feels good.

Eventually it's too much.

"Now," she calls to him, pulling at his upper back, guiding his lips back to hers.

"Now?" he asks against her mouth.

"Yes, now."

He pushes at her panties, getting them to her knees before he pulls away to yank them all the way down and toss them to the pile next to the bed. Elliot's back on her before her panties hit the floor. His knees digging into the mattress between her legs, one elbow on the bed next to her side and one hand at the base of his erection, sliding himself along her center to slick himself up. He nips at her neck, scraping his teeth down the sensitive skin before kissing her again.

Olivia gasps at feeling him on her so intimately for the first time, overwhelmed by the weight of him. With her eyes closed, she feels him place his tip at her entrance, pushing in just enough to get her attention.

"Look at me," he commands quietly, his blue eyes dark on hers.

When she does, he slides in, slowly and deliberately, as if he would miss out on the best feeling in the world if he didn't log how every centimeter of her body feels around him.

Her jaw drops at the stretch. She's aroused and wet, though probably not as wet as she could be given their lack of foreplay. She usually wants hands and mouths in the mix and at least one orgasm under belt before she gets this far. But tonight, she doesn't want to wait, not any longer. So, she'd take the small sting that she knows will subside in a moment to feel this, just as it is right now. She trusts that her body can catch up and she looks forward to testing his other skills another night.

" Oh god , you feel…so good," he grunts quietly as his eyes are pulled closed by the pleasure.

He lowers to his elbows, removing all space between them and begins to rock, moving subtly so he stays fully inside her. Her breath catches at the full feeling of him inside her, the feeling of them together. She feels complete. This is where she was always supposed to, and her body and soul knew it. Tears begin to prick her eyes and she inhales sharply, trying to will them away.

Elliot halts his movements and lifts his head when he feels a cool tear hit his skin.

"Liv?"

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to force the rest of them away. She doesn't want him to get the wrong idea.

It's too late for that though. "Liv?" he asks again, fear building in his chest at the realization that she's crying and he's afraid that he's hurting her or has pushed her too far too fast. He wipes a tear off her cheek. "Do you want to stop?"

Olivia shakes her head again. "No, please don't," she holds him tight, her hands on his low back. "Happy tears, I promise. This is… everything ."

He smiles softly and leans down, whispering, " You're everything," before he kisses her, using his soft lips to distract her as he begins to move again.

He stays like that, covering her completely, his mouth on hers, moving languidly with longer and longer strokes.

She can't believe how good he feels like this. She's assumed that he'd speed up or even lever up to his knees so he could move more freely, but he stays laid out over her, his body pressing her into the mattress, moving his hips at the same measured pace, filling her deeply over and over again, grinding his pubic bone against her clit.

He's content to take his time, slowly loving her. Despite his fatigue from the long day and upsetting evening, he is comforted by her body, her warm and soft body underneath his. He doesn't want an inch between them this first time. He moves slowly and purposefuly for as long as he can stand it.

Eventually he digs one hand under her ass, squeezing her and pulling her hips even closer so he can thrust a little deeper and harder, bringing them closer. The other glides up her arm, flattening it up straight over her head, intertwining their fingers. He nuzzles his chin and jaw into her neck again, letting his warm breath wash over the sensitive skin and muttering sweet nothings into her ear. He tells her how perfect she is; how much he's missed her; and how good she feels.

It's so sensual and overwhelming. She feels her pleasure building and building in her core. When it's almost too much she lets him know. "El…don't stop, I'm…"

"God, please …for me…" he answers in awe that he's brought her here, that she's about to come for him, because of him.

"Yes, for you…with you…"

He keeps his movements the same but finds her lips again, kissing her deeply, pulling her pleasure to the surface. She has to turn her head to catch her breath and moan a soft "Oh god, El," when a surge hits her, then another, and then another, crashing over her again and again.

When the clutch of her around him becomes too much he spills into her with a jerk and quiet grunt of her name.

Olivia lets him roll away, flip over onto his back. He pulls at her, and she snuggles into his side as their heart beats return to normal.

He doesn't mean to, but he yawns, long and deep. His eyes widen when his jaw finally closes, afraid that she might take his exhaustion as an insult.

" Yea ," she agrees as her own chest expands when she duplicates his yawn. "It's late. I'll be right back. Do you need anything?" she asks as she pats his chest and rolls out of the bed.

"No, I don't need anything."

When she returns five minutes later after cleaning up and getting a glass of water, he's snoring, curled on his side in the middle of her bed.

Elliot is the first to wake in the morning. It's still early and he's not refreshed. He could sleep for several days. He's tempted to stay in bed with Olivia, who is curled on her side with her hair falling over her face, and try to convince her into lazy morning lovemaking. But his bladder is putting up a noticeable fight. And he isn't sure how early Noah got up in the morning.

He stops in the bathroom, and after he relieves himself, he looks in the mirror. He's surprised how rough he looks. His eyes are bloodshot with dark circles resting beneath them. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to scrub away the tiredness with no luck. Elliot digs through her cabinet for an extra toothbrush, and whispers a quiet thank God , when he sees one. He'd hate to have to bypass good-morning kisses due to his horrid morning breath.

Once he's done brushing his teeth and splashing his face with cold water, he pads to the kitchen to start coffee. Leaning back against the counter he ruminates on the previous night as the machine brews.

The night took such an unpredictable turn. He was working another late night, desperate to go home and maybe share a few texts or a short call with Olivia. He'd been missing her so much since Christmas. All he wanted to do was take her out for dinner and kiss her a bit more. And then, when he saw that small boy in the house, he had one singular thought: get to Noah .

After he confirmed that the boy was safe and in his bed, his entire body was done. He wanted to collapse and sleep and sleep. But Olivia was there, directing him to the shower. She'd always known what he'd needed. She knew when he needed tough words and when he needed soft hands.

And when he was in her bed, cuddled against her, it happened. It's not how he'd pictured their first time. But he wouldn't take it back. It was soft and quiet and easy. It was perfect and what he needed. Now he just needs to know if Olivia agrees.

Noah's voice pulls him from his thoughts.

"Morning Elliot," the boy greets sleepily, his fists rubbing his eyes as he steps into the kitchen.

"Mornin' bud," Elliot returns.

"You're actually here," he says surprised.

"I told you I would be."

"Are you gonna eat breakfast with me?"

"Sure am," Elliot nods. "What do you want?"

"Uh, I usually eat cereal," Noah tells him, pointing to the boxes of cereal on top of the fridge. "And then I watch tv or play my Switch until mom gets up."

"Cereal and cartoons it is," Elliot grins and claps his hands, and starts looking in the cupboards for bowls.

Elliot and Noah are on the couch in no time. They have bowls overflowing with fruit loops on the coffee table next to a cup of coffee for Elliot and a small glass of orange juice for Noah.

" Argyou and mamawm dawing ?" Noah asks through a mouthful of cereal.

"Chew, swallow, then ask," Elliot directs as he sips from his steaming mug.

Noah nods and finishes his bite before asking again. "Are you and my mom dating?"

Elliot's eyes furrow, thinking of the right response. Technically he and Olivia are not dating, but they will be soon, and last night they engaged in some very serious dating behavior. Not that he would share that with Noah. "It's, uh, complicated."

"That's what she said," Noah says with a shrug and takes another bite of his breakfast.

"Really?"

"Yea, after Christmas I asked her if you guys were boyfriend-girlfriend, and she said that it's complicated because you were friends and you were gone for so long."

"That's all true, bud. I know it's not a satisfying answer, but a lot of the time, things are more complicated than we want them to be."

Turning to face Elliot, Noah asks him directly, "Do you want to be my mom's boyfriend?"

Knowing that he and Olivia are on the verge of dating, Elliot figures an honest answer wouldn't be the wrong one. "Yes."

"I knew it!" Noah shouts and jumps up, nearly toppling his cereal bowl.

Elliot chuckles at Noah's reaction and in mild relief, "I guess you are okay with that?"

"Oh yea!"

Elliot opens his mouth to say that he's glad Noah approves but his phone starts ringing. He can hear it coming from Olivia's room. By the time he gets to her room, Olivia's sitting up with his phone in her hand. Unlike Elliot, she had been able to get her pajamas back on before she went to sleep last night. But her hair is properly mussed, and her face is still sleepy.

"It was Bell," she tells him, her voice thick with sleep.

"Shit." He knows that he left his squad hanging last night and if Bell's calling him before 8:00 a.m., then they are still underwater.

"It's okay El."

"I wanted to talk to you, eat breakfast together and …"

"I know," she assures him, taking her own phone off its charger, making sure she doesn't have any missed calls.

"Are we okay?" he asks, eyes wide, nervous about her answer.

"Yes, we are good," she nods and then points to his phone. "Now call your boss back."

He nods and steps into the hallway to call Bell. A few minutes later he's back in her room, looking around at the floor. "Where are my clothes?"

She stands from the bed, walking towards him. "Still in the bathroom. Just go home and change, they were wrinkled and soaked in sweat. I'll get them washed and back to you."

"You don't have…"

"Elliot-" she interrupts, putting her hands on his shoulders. "You need to get going."

"Maybe you can wash them and keep them here? That way I have a set of clothes here?" He proposes, making it clear that he expects to spend many more nights here, with her.

She smiles and nods. "Good plan."

He leans in and kisses her sweetly. "I've got to go, but uh…I want to talk about this, all of this as soon as I can."

"We will."