Patience

by Jessa4865

When Elliot returns from his UC assignment, he discovers that something has changed.

Patience
Fleeterberry
Set post Season 24/3 finales

TW: Non-specific reference to WL arc.

***
"Said 'woman take it slow and things will be just fine'
You and I'll just use a little patience
Said 'sugar take the time cause the lights are shining bright'
You and I've got what it takes to make it"
-Patience, Guns 'N Roses
***

He can't wait. He can't. He simply cannot wait another minute. He's already waited for months and he struggled through his entire assignment and hard uncover work with his mind completely occupied by thoughts of her, of going home, of home being a person instead of a place for once, and he wants to do the work and make things right with Liv and he can't do that when he's not here. So now he's done with his case and Ayanna is satisfied that he's finished enough paperwork for the day and she turns him loose and he's back in his own clothes and has his real phone and he's driving his truck and he is free for the first time in six months to do whatever the fuck he wants. He's got an apartment to go to. He's got family to check on. He's got a new grandchild, a baby girl, and he can't wait to meet her even though he hadn't even known Maureen was pregnant again when he left.

But there's something else, something more important at the moment, and he can't wait and he can't be bothered to call or text a warning to her because she might be busy or mad or have a perfectly valid excuse to wave him off and he's not convinced he'll survive without seeing her right fucking now. As he drives, he remembers the last time he saw her, the way she smiled sadly at the idea that he was leaving, the way she tried to satisfy herself with the fact that he'd at least told her he was going undercover, the way she eagerly reached to open the present he'd bought her, the way she'd fought back a laugh when he'd opened the McCann's gift, the way she'd nervously asked what the compass meant.

He doesn't dare hope, at least he doesn't acknowledge that he's hoping, when he's hurrying through the hallway of her precinct, that she might be wearing it. He's rounding the corner and praying she's here because he needs to see her so very badly and then he's at the door of her office and he can see her through the glass and he thinks his heart actually stops. Everything stops, even time, everything frozen in this moment when he's seeing her for the first time in so long and she's so damn beautiful, even when she's frowning at some unhappy information on her computer and he wants to shove through the door and take her in his arms and kiss her like in some old fashioned movie and it's a long moment before he realizes that nothing else has stopped besides him. He's frozen, just staring at her, and he feels like maybe he's been frozen since he was last here in May because his world revolves around her now and nothing else matters.

He's trying to remember how to breathe as he stares and he sees a long gold chain around her neck but whatever it's holding is hidden behind the collar of her shirt and he can't for the life of him remember if the compass was on a long chain or a short one because he'd been too busy wondering if creating a custom pendant with diamonds to represent them and their children might be too obvious and he's well aware that Olivia is going to do whatever she wants because she's strong and it's certainly possible that if she decided to wear the damn thing she could have switched out the chain for a length that she liked better.

And still, his heart leaps at the idea that she might be wearing that necklace, his gift, on a random Thursday at work where she has absolutely no expectation of seeing him.

He's smiling as steps forward to knock on the door, knowing full well he's hidden from her sight in his current position and he wants to surprise her and he's giddy at the idea of her expression when she sees him and even if she's irritated and too busy to talk and even if she frowns and is pissed at him disappearing again or not calling first or whatever, he's still imagining that compass around her neck and he hears her invitation to enter and he steps through the door and he's finally in the same room as her and he's able to let out the breath he's been holding for six months.

She's shocked for a moment and her jaw drops open because apparently she was expecting someone, but it's him and he's absolutely amazed when he watches the slack-jawed shock morph into a wide smile because she's happy to see him and she's letting him see that. He's honestly surprised himself that she's not forcing her emotions off her face and staring at him blankly and he's trying to decide what to do or say and he's recognizing his utter failure to plan here but it doesn't matter because she's stepping around her desk and he's stepping closer and her arms are open and he's the one who's completely dumbfounded because Olivia Benson is greeting him with a goddamn hug and she's squeezing him tight and he'd have been happy with a smile and sarcastic remark.

His body responds automatically, his arms crushing her to him as his face presses into her hair and he realizes he's finally home where he belongs and he's still got some convincing to do because last time he checked, Olivia still wasn't quite there, but then again, she just decided to hug him of her own accord and maybe that means something.

He wants to hold on forever, relish the feel of her in his arms, and it's far too soon when her grip loosens and she pulls away, a smile still curving her lips. "Welcome back." The smile fades as she holds his eyes and he sees the moment the doubt creeps in. "Are you back?"

He grabs her hands as she starts to turn away, keeping her there in his space, inviting her to stay a less-than-professional distance from him. "Yeah, I'm home," he promises, hoping she understands he means with her.

She nods, her eyes dropping to their joined hands, and then she's taking a deep breath and backing up to let their hands separate. He assumes it's on purpose, that she's aware of the arrival of Fin, who snuck up behind Elliot while he was focused entirely on her. "Any luck?" She's addressing their friend like he didn't just walk in on something that Elliot hopes is far more than a friendly moment.

Fin is grinning and glancing between them and Elliot figures they're in agreement about that moment, but he finally turns his eyes back to Liv with a sour expression. "Hasn't been home or work. We're checking security cameras around the kid's school now."

She nods and Fin turns to leave, offering Elliot a smile. "Welcome back, Stabler." He pauses, his brow furrowing a bit. "You are back, right?"

He chuckles to hide how much he hates his reputation for bailing on his friends, even if he deserves it. "I'm back."

Fin's eyes dart to Liv for a second. "Good. Maybe you should stay this time." And then he's gone, leaving Elliot to stare at his partner and silently wish she would make that same request.

He'd do it. He'd stay. He'd quit his job, move into her apartment, be a househusband, whatever she wanted, anything at all, but he knows she's afraid to ask because she's afraid he'll say no. He's trying, interrupted by perpetual bullshit at work, to convince her of the truth, that he'll never refuse her, but it's hard to find a middle ground with her and them and their history of not saying anything and he's trying to start saying things, but he doesn't want to scare her and she almost always panics when he tries and so he's forcing himself to be patient.

He blinks and she's back at her desk, sitting in her chair with an ease that was lacking the last time he saw her, and he wants to ask about how her hip is feeling, but if there's one thing guaranteed to bring up her walls, it's implying that she's in any way weak, so he takes a seat in the chair facing her desk and he smiles as he stares and drinks in the contentedness he feels being near her. He's the weak one, they both know it, and he's not afraid to admit it. "I missed you."

She swallows hard and her eyes are suddenly locked on her desk and he wants to slap himself for pushing too hard, but fuck she just hugged him.

But fuck she just hugged him.

That's a hell of a lot more than he expected and deserved and he's going to take that priceless gift and be happy with it.

"How are the kids? You talk to your mom yet?" He recognizes that she might be changing the subject, but she's not inviting him to leave.

Although she might when he answers honestly. "Not yet. This is my first stop."

She takes another deep breath and holds it and he's practically counting with her as she releases it and he's not a bit surprised when she deflects the gravity of his admission, but again, still not an invitation to leave and he's not going to stop until she issues one.

"I talked to Kathleen back in August. Apparently Bernie decided to rescue some stray cats while Kathleen was at work." She shakes her head with a smile. "They were trying to get me to adopt them."

He can't help but snicker because while he knows she'd do just about anything to help his family, adopting a cat is on the other side of that line. "So does Kathleen have half a dozen cats now?"

"She has two." She rolls her eyes. "Maureen has three, Liz has one." And then there's a smirk on her face as she looks out into the bullpen. "Fin and Phoebe took one. Your mother should have been a lawyer. She's really convincing."

"And yet you don't have a cat?"

"She's not that convincing." She shrugs, a blush coming to her cheeks. "She almost had me, but I can barely handle feeding my child."

Elliot is shaking his head, chuckling at the idea of Olivia in crisis mode, trying to rehome Bernie's cats, and then he does the math, because his mother has done this for years and it usually takes her days to capture a single one. "Shit, how'd she rescue seven cats in one day?"

"She rescued one. Six surprise kittens arrived the next day, under Kathleen's bed." She looks at her phone for a minute, types a reply to something, and then looks back at him. "You should thank me. If you'd been here, you'd have seven cats in your apartment right now."

He shakes his head, remembering how he'd managed to raise five kids and only caved on one pet. "Nope, no way. Those cats would be on the street."

"Kathleen. Your mom." She finds his eyes and cocks an eyebrow. "Me." And then she waits while he feels the blush burning his cheeks.

"Yeah, I'd have seven cats right now, wouldn't I?"

There's a knock at the door while he's still reeling from the fact that she called him out on being a complete pushover with that trifecta. And really, he knows he's been successfully resisting the first two for years and he's wondering if she knows that as well and he's pretty damn sure she does. He's listening with half an ear while Fin is updating Liv on something while he's trying to convince himself that her teasing means something more than teasing, like she's maybe starting to admit she's important to him, and he knows he's reaching, but he swears he still feels that subtle difference in them that he'd felt in May. It hadn't been there in January, when he'd pushed and she'd retreated and they hadn't spoken for months. But something had changed by May and although they worked together as seamlessly as always, it had felt like something had finally shifted and it wasn't just work and she wasn't trying to pretend it was.

"I'm sorry, but I have to deal with this." She's standing and he knows he missed something, but there are several people hurrying from the squadroom and Liv is on her feet and she's grabbing her keys and he's reluctantly standing too and he wants to make the suggestion that they talk later, but before he can open his mouth, she leans forward to reach for her phone and the movement pulls the chain free of her blouse and he sees it, the compass swinging freely for a moment until she stands up and it nestles back into the folds of fabric in her shirt and he'd been trying to tell himself she was wearing it, but now he's seen it and he's sure she's realized in six months what the two larger and six smaller stones represent and she's still wearing it. She's accepted it.

They're family.

She's not denying it anymore, at least not to herself. His eyes pull off where the pendant is, climbing back to hers and the corners of her mouth turn up the slightest bit and he thinks maybe she's not denying it to him anymore either.

She's hurrying past him where he's once again stopped like he's frozen because he was desperate to see him and he's been with her for five minutes and it's not enough and he wants to scream at how unfair it is and he knows Olivia probably felt exactly like this when he announced he was leaving in May, but he manages to reach out and grab her hand, just for a quick squeeze, and he wants to tell her to be careful, but he's not sure he can speak past the lump in his throat and so he just nods at her because she already knows what he's thinking and she nods back because of course she does and she's already at the door of her office and he wishes he could have just a little more time with her, especially now that he knows the patience is paying off.

She turns back as she's snagging her coat. "Maybe we can get dinner later?"

He's shocked because he'd honestly expected a setback rather than progress during his absence, but he's not going to let her feel awkward or uncomfortable and so he's quick to agree. "I'll be home all night."

***
"I sit here on the stairs
Cause I'd rather be alone
If I can't have you right now, I'll wait dear"
-Patience, Guns 'N Roses
***

Normally, he might have taken up the kids on their suggestion of dinner and he definitely would have balked at the idea of waiting another day to meet his new granddaughter, but it's not normally. Today is the day Olivia Benson suggested a date of sorts and he's absolutely going to be ready to go whenever she calls, dressed reasonably for any type of food she'd like to get, and has already stopped at the grocery store to stock up on some basics in case she wants to stay in.

He's well aware that she was running off to work when they last spoke and he's sure if she has to work late, her son will be her first priority when she's done, but he's trying to convince himself that it's still a big fucking deal that she suggested spending time with him even if she has to cancel. But she hasn't canceled yet and he has time to do some cleaning, necessary after the place sat empty for half a year, and he's glad for the physical labor because it distracts him from the nerves that would otherwise set in if he had nothing to do besides sit around and contemplate the fact that he might actually finally really kinda have a date with Olivia. He's satisfied that the place is reasonably clean and he's staring at the weight bench he dragged into the living room before he left because he assumed it would get stolen if he left it in the garden, but if he moves it, he's going to need a shower and he's absolutely terrified he'll miss her call if he takes a shower.

Time drags on after he settles on the couch and stares at the bench and continuously reassesses if he should move it now or later and he feels guilty when he decides to cook the frozen pizza he picked up at the store. He'd been so excited to get done with his debriefing that he'd skipped lunch and then he was high on life following the visit with Liv, so by eight, he's starving and he tells himself it's the thought that counts because she wanted to see him and she got stuck working and she's not going to be mad that he had dinner when she wasn't able to make the loose plan she'd suggested.

He's halfway through the pizza and he's sure he could eat the whole thing and still be hungry and he's trying to decide between eating the rest of it or saving it for Liv should she eventually call. By nine, the pizza is gone, the plate is washed, and he's wondering if he should just workout since dinner is obviously not happening and she's probably too tired by now to remember she'd made plans on the spur of the moment.

He's wondering if he should text, check in and see if she's ok, but he's afraid to crowd her because he thinks maybe she's already panicking and backpedaling over the invitation or maybe she'd meant later as in some point in the future rather than tonight. He's so focused on convincing himself not to be let down that he nearly jumps out of his skin when there's a knock on his door.

He tries to tell himself not to smile quite so hard as he's pulling it open, but he just can't seem to help it. She's here. It's late and she probably either already grabbed something for dinner or is too tired to eat, but she's fucking here and he can't wipe the smile off his face as he meets her eyes.

"Sorry I'm so late." She bites her lip and in contrast to the way he's smiling, her lips are twisted into a frown as she shrugs. "I should have called first, I didn't realize how late it was getting and I didn't want to cancel without-"

He cuts her off with a finger to her lips, only realizing when he feels the familiar tingle of electricity between them that his action was extremely bold and probably too forward and possibly unwelcome, and he's swallowing hard as he drops his hand back to his side and then steps back to allow her entrance. "I'm glad you're here. Everything ok with work?" He assumes it was something awful because it's always something awful in her department and he hates that he was sitting here feeling excited while she was dealing with absolute crap.

"Yeah, it's fine. McGrath is on my last nerve, you know?" And he does know because he's met the man. She shrugs out of her coat and he hangs it on the hook while she sets her bag and badge and weapon on the table by the door, nodding at the latter. "Ok to leave this out?"

He knows she's checking to make sure no one will have access to a police-issue because he has a huge family and grandchildren and a mother who's known to act irrationally, but he hears something else and his happy smile shifts into a smirk as he looks at her. "We're alone."

Her heavy sigh tells him that she was only asking about safety, as does the way she turns away and walks toward the kitchen. "Fin grabbed me dinner already, I hope you didn't wait."

Honestly, he did wait for a while and even though he ate the whole pizza, he can't deny he would have eaten more if he hadn't been waiting for her to show up, but he was waiting for her not necessarily for dinner. "Figured you were busy."

She meets his eyes and he can feel her guilt. "You've met my boss."

He wants to reach for her, offer her physical comfort after a long day, but he doesn't want to push and so he has to do something with his hands and starts digging around in the cabinet for the microwave popcorn he hopes isn't too stale, except it's from before he left and so it's probably much older than he wants to think about. "We could watch a movie."

She nods and heads for the living room, making herself comfortable on the couch and clicking through the channels. He wonders what has changed, why her attitude towards him seems so different, but then he remembers that night in January, when he'd tried to kiss her, and rather than the awkward, hurt moment he usually gets stuck on when she backed away from him, he recalls something else, her words, what she'd actually told him. I want to. I'm not ready for this.

Maybe she'd been expecting him to push, to argue, but he'd backed off. He'd done it out of embarrassment, but he thinks it might have been the right thing for the wrong reason. Maybe giving her almost a year to think was what she needed. She wasn't ready then, but maybe she's ready now. He's so distracted he manages to overcook the popcorn and it's the last bag, so he dumps it into a bowl and hopes she doesn't care and he's assuming, like his invitation to watch a movie, that it's really just an excuse, a crutch, something they can use to pretend if admitting they just want to spend time together is too much.

He settles next to her on the couch and he gives her more space than he necessarily wants to because she's pulled the throw around her shoulders and she's tucked herself completely into it and he assumes it's a request for distance and he reminds himself that letting her come around to this on her own terms appears to be working, even if it wasn't so much a plan as an accident and he's going to have to keep letting her make all the decisions because she never agrees when he makes them.

The movie is sci-fi horror, which isn't really his thing, but he's not about to argue and he's glad she doesn't comment on the burned popcorn, and by the time the alien creature has started plucking out people's eyes, he thinks Liv has shifted closer to him on her own. He's glad he's not hungry, because the movie is cheesy, but gory enough to turn his hardened stomach and by the time one of the four leads has had her eyes plucked out, the popcorn bowl is on the coffee table and she's definitely shifted closer because she's brushing his arm every time she shifts under her blanket. Under normal circumstances, he'd be bored to tears with the movie and would have gone to sleep long ago, except she seems mesmerized by the nonsense on the screen. So mesmerized that he starts to wonder if she's asleep with her eyes open.

He turns toward her, giving up any pretense of paying attention to the movie, staring unabashedly at her for long enough to determine that she's paying absolutely no attention to him. He tries not to be insulted. "Are you watching this?"

She jerks at his voice, her eyes darting around the room as though she's confused for a moment where she is, before she looks back at the TV, winces as one of the remaining leads meets a very unpleasant demise, and then turns to him. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"So you were ignoring me and the movie. Want to talk about whatever it is?" He's trying to read her body language because he's always been able to tell what she was thinking that way, but she's hidden herself under the blanket and her relaxed expression belies the way she was so completely lost in thought that she didn't see what she was staring at. He's not sure how to interpret the way she shifts her whole body to face him, her thoughts a complete mystery to him, she looks peaceful or maybe sad and he fears this conversation is going to end badly and he almost wishes he hadn't said anything.

She reaches out from under her blanket, her fingers warm when they touch his cheek, running along the stubble that's grown back since his morning shave. "I missed you too, El."

He can't quite understand what she means to tell him because he assumes there's more to her words than their face value and he's surprised she's revealing that much verbally since so much of their relationship has been silence and stares and assumptions. He decides to follow her lead, admitting something he's trying to pretend has nothing to do with her. "I told Bell this was it. I'm not doing any more of these long term assignments."

"Good. I want you here." He doesn't even have time to contemplate what she just admitted because her fingers are still on his cheek and she's leaning closer or he's leaning closer or maybe both of them are, but rather than the last time they were this close, her eyes are fixed on his and she's not hesitant or upset or shaking.

And also unlike the last time, she doesn't dodge at the last minute, probably because she's the instigator this time, and her lips finally press against his just as his eyes flutter closed. He wants to go slow and savor the moment, but he also wants to devour her and he's truly shocked this is happening now because it feels so sudden except it's not sudden at all and he can't believe that she kissed him and somehow it's his hands that are shaking as she moves closer and he's not thinking anymore because there's nothing but feeling when he touches her and that's always been the case but it's moreso now and he couldn't hold back if he wanted to because she's holding him and kissing him and pulling him and he's not even sure when it happened, but she's lying back on the couch and he's leaning over her and his shirt is unbuttoned and hers is untucked and her hands are fumbling with the button of his jeans.

Somehow it seeps through the fog in his head that this appears to actually be happening rather than some extremely realistic daydream he's been known to have in her presence and he's out of the moment then, feeling like this is all wrong because they're twisted together on the couch after they didn't have time to have dinner and they haven't seen each other in months and he wants this, but he also desperately wants to avoid fucking this up and he needs to know what has changed besides what he's just assumed has changed. He pulls back from her fevered kisses and while he's trying to get her attention, her mouth is sliding down his neck and he knows he only has a second before he's lost completely to the sensations of her fingers moving on to his zipper. He grabs her wrists and pulls them up above her head, aiming to keep himself under control, but she fights him, her arms yanking hard and fast, and he wasn't holding her tightly so it takes nothing to break his grip. He sees the flash then, a warning of something he doesn't want to know, fear in her eyes that only lasts a second until she finds his stare and he sees her recognize him and he wonders who she was afraid of in that moment.

He's frozen again, hovering over her, watching her face as she presses her eyes closed and gathers her thoughts and her hands rest against his chest and he's glad she's not pushing him away and she seems content where she is but he doesn't know if he should stay there or move because he's honestly not sure what is happening right now.

Her eyes open again and meet his and then her hand is sliding to his neck and she's lifting her head to kiss him again and he can't, at least not until he knows what's going on. He pulls back and she gets the message, her head falling back on the couch and he's once again struck by how ridiculous it is that they're grown fucking adults and they were about to have sex on a couch and he wants to talk to her.

"Liv," he starts to speak but he doesn't have a single fucking clue what he means to ask and he's relieved when she doesn't make him try to figure something out.

"Just don't hold my wrists like that." She explains, as though that's enough, and instead of trying to kiss him again, her hands are moving over his chest, her fingers brushing the skin down to his stomach and he wants to get lost in the feeling of her cool hands caressing his body, in the idea that Liv is touching him like that, but he wants to ask too and he knows he should and he also knows enough from her momentary panic that he understands he doesn't really want to know.

It's enough confusion for him to pull away, to sit up, to relinquish exactly what he's wanted for so damn long. He's panicking himself now, wondering what and when and how bad and if Noah was involved and fearing something happened since May that wouldn't have happened if he'd been here where he belongs and he's already blaming himself because he should have refused this last UC stint and Olivia suffered because he hadn't. But she's sitting up beside him, her body so close he knows their little interlude here has eliminated whatever modicum of personal space they'd ever maintained and he wants to be glad about that, but he's too busy hating himself for letting her get hurt again.

And she seems to understand that, her hands reaching for him, one gripping his arm, the other guiding his cheek to face her. "It's not you. It wasn't you."

He swallows and looks down, ashamed and guilty, and he's trying to hide the tears that are about to spill but his gaze falls on her hand where it's still pressed against his face. He reaches up to touch it, his instinct to squeeze it tightly, but he's scared now, worried, gun-shy, and so his touch is featherlight to avoid upsetting her. "Something happened."

She trying to meet his eyes and he's trying to not meet hers because he wants to not know what he already knows, but she's Olivia and she's his kryptonite and he can't deny her and so his eyes find hers and both of her hands are cupping his cheeks and she's not hiding from him for the first time in a very long time. "Yes, but it was a long time ago and I'm ok."

He can't look away now as he's searching her eyes, trying to comprehend what she's telling him, thinking maybe he can forgive himself for not being there, except he can't because a long time ago means the first time he left her, not the second or third, and that does nothing to make him feel better because he's starting to get it now, the thoughts processing rapid fire through his consciousness as he understands it finally, why she was so different when he returned from Italy, why she has been hiding from him, why she deflected his invitations, why she'd been so upset when he'd tried to kiss her in January, why she hadn't been ready for something he knows she's wanted for decades.

He wants to crawl into a bottle and choke on his guilt and hate himself for not being there because he knows she wanted her partner a long time ago and he wasn't there and she missed him then and that's why it's so hard for her to open up now. He wants to berate himself for his flippant comment about the Christmas gift, that was really about them, when he'd declared he could always fix things because fucking hell, he can't fix leaving her back then and he can't fix what happened to her and everything is so fucking broken and it has been for years and he had no idea.

And still, she's holding his eyes and he's trapped by her stare and he can't look away and he can't get up and he can't tear through his apartment kicking and punching and screaming and she's making him take this news she's just dropped on him like a fucking grown up and he tries to breathe and he tries to think about what he can do besides throwing a damn tantrum and he finally realizes she's not dumping this on him, she's sharing with him. She's revealing something she doesn't have to, something she's managed to keep from him for the years he's been back, and she doesn't need his anger and guilt, she just needs him to know not to hold her hands over her head and as much as he feels his world has collapsed in the last few moments, nothing has changed in hers.

She's still there, sitting so close, her hands holding his face, her eyes locked on his, her breath falling on his lips. Her eyes are searching now, moving over his face and then climbing back to his and he knows she can read him as easily as he thought he could read her and she nods because she knows he understands and her hands slide to the back of his head and he realizes as her lips press against his that she still wants this, even if he's more of a colossal fuck up than he'd ever known. She's waited all the years they've known each other, most of their relationship determined by his decisions - his marriage, his children, his departure, his return - and he decides it's time to let her call the shots.

As much as his mind is in turmoil, his body is still well aware that this is his chance with her and he'd like to be ashamed of how quickly the physical rush takes over, but it's Olivia and he's been so damn in love with her for so fucking many years that he doesn't put up a fight when she stands and takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom. All he can do is hope he's not making a mistake as he lets her push him down on the bed.

***
"Was a time when I wasn't sure
But you set my mind at ease
There is no doubt you're in my heart now"
-Patience, Guns 'N Roses
***

He wakes up in the middle of the night, a smile on his face, a warm peace in his chest as he rolls onto his side, his arms reaching sleepily, his hands finding nothing but cold, empty sheets. He sits up, checking around the room as though maybe it's not true, praying the door to the connected bathroom will be closed and he'll hear the water running and she'll come padding back to bed in a moment, but the door is wide open and she's not there and her clothes aren't on the floor where he dropped them and for a moment he's telling himself the whole thing was a dream. Except it wasn't and he knows that.

It was a mistake and he knows that too.

He's an idiot. A complete fucking idiot. He flops back onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process the rollercoaster of a day, and he blames himself because he's learned over and over again his entire life that his strongest skill is fucking everything up. He should have stopped her, insisted they wait, ask her to explain why she'd had such a change of heart, but he wanted to believe she was ok like she'd said and he wanted them too much to be rational and now he's managed to destroy something that should have been wonderful.

He thinks about calling her. He wonders if he should apologize or pretend he thinks her absence was about work. He suspects he should just leave her the fuck alone until she contacts him this time. The thought sends a tear sliding down the side of his face and he knows there are more to come if he allows it and he won't allow it because he brought this misery on himself. He's not getting back to sleep tonight, leaving him with two options - workout until he's tired, or more likely he has to go to work, or he can drink himself into a stupor until he decides to call out sick from the hangover. He's supposed to have dinner with Maureen and meet his two-week-old granddaughter and he doesn't want to drive out to her house with a hangover, so he decides he should workout. That decision lasts as long as it takes for him to sit up and swing his feet onto the floor. He's got no energy, his sour mood and broken heart sapping all the strength from him, and he thinks maybe he could just take a shower and go back to bed, but a shower feels like a terrible amount of work for some reason. He pulls on his boxers instead and heads for the living room, hoping that staring at the weight bench will make him feel more like doing something.

He's trying to remember where he left his phone as he opens the bedroom door, clinging desperately to the hope that there's a message from Liv, explaining that she had to get home to Noah or she had some emergency at work or any excuse at all, and he's two steps into the living room when he sees her, the outline of her body sitting on the weight bench, her attention focused on the completely dilapidated terrace that his mother had attempted to tame when she'd lived there.

His heart is pounding in his chest as he stares, trying to reconcile this unexpected boon with the self-flagellation he'd been performing. It hadn't occurred to him that she might simply be in the next room, wearing his discarded shirt, watching the rain drip down the glass. He shakes his head and blinks to make sure he's not imagining the beautiful sight of her face as she turns to look at him.

Her lips curl into a soft smile. "Hey."

He decides as he approaches her that he must be hallucinating and he doesn't care. He doesn't mind it one bit. He's going to go with it, accept it, and once his delusion disappears, he'll worry about which parts were real and which were imaginary. "I thought you left."

"No, no, I wouldn't- not-" Her eyes looked pained, hurt, at his statement, an unintentional accusation, but as always, she pushes her own feelings aside and he sees it then, her lead tilting, her pupils wide in the low light, her empathy, when she realizes he was hurt by her actions. She stands then, reaching for his hand, her fingers lacing with his. "I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake you."

He loves that she didn't leave. He loves that she reached for him. He loves the soft feel of her fingers threaded between his. He loves that this is the first time they've talked since they made love. But it's not enough and he's afraid nothing will ever be enough and he can't be so far away from her and he may need to hold her forever because he can't give up what he's only just found and even if it's not real, it's everything. He'd told her she meant the world to him and she does, but being close to her is the whole universe.

He shifts toward her, only releasing her hand when he can pull her into his arms, marveling at how natural it feels to have her arms settle around his waist, her head tucking against his shoulder, his hands rubbing along her back.

"You can always wake me." He says it like there's going to be a lot of these nights, where they go to bed together and so many that one or both of them is bound to be upset and unable to sleep at some point and will need the comfort of the other's company and he wants, hopes, believes, knows it's true because this is happening. As far as he's concerned, they're together now and they're always going to be together and they will spend every night together and there will never be another moment when they exist as separate people. Even if it's just a dream, it's the best one he's ever had.

"You've been working for six months straight, El, you needed the rest."

He takes a deep breath and silently acknowledges that she's right about him being tired because UC work takes it out of him, but there's another fact that he thinks she should hear because he wants to tell her what has always been true. "I need you more."

Her hands tighten in response, her fingers gripping his skin and he knows she needed to hear that even if she doesn't admit it because it only takes a moment for her body to relax, her touch lightening as her body sags into his. Not only had she needed to hear it, she needed to believe it, and he thinks she does because she is the strongest person he's ever known and she's allowing him to see her soft and gentle and without the armor she uses to face the world on her own and she's letting him hold her while she's vulnerable, not because she needs him to protect her, but because she trusts him to support her when she wants a break.

He's content to stay here forever, with his world safely snuggled in his arms, but he worries that she was out here for a reason, that her inability to sleep stemmed from a bad thing rather than just having a lot on her mind. He tucks his mouth down to her ear, his voice a gentle whisper, his arms holding her tight to remind her that she's safe with him. "Want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" She doesn't move, doesn't tense, and he decides that means she's honestly unsure rather than trying to deflect.

"Whatever has you up in the middle of the night." Any other time, his inquiry would be more pointed, he'd take the bull by the horns and demand to know more about why he shouldn't grab her wrists when both of them know full well that he'd never try to hurt her, but it's not any other time and they're not in the suits for work with their badges and guns at their hips and they're not in an office with a bulletin board covered with awful pictures of horrid crimes that they're trying to solve. It's now when they're holding each other in the middle of the night in his darkened living room with a pair of boxers and a half unbuttoned shirt between them.

"It's not what you think." She pulls back a little, but her hands remain pressed into his back, her eyes searching for his. "I will tell you about that, but not tonight, ok?"

It strikes him as strange that she's still trying to reassure him even while she's referring to something he's sure she doesn't want to think about or relive or mention, but that's Olivia and that's what makes her her. She puts everyone else first, no matter the cost, and it's part of what made him fall in love with her but he still wishes she'd stop worrying about other people and put herself first, be a little greedy once in a while, and then he thinks that maybe she did exactly that tonight, maybe reaching for him and letting them happen was her way of finally taking what she wanted.

He moves one hand to her cheek, his thumb stroking across her skin, and his heart skips a beat when she leans into it, letting him see that she really does want this too. "You're ok?" He's not even sure exactly what he's asking because there's so much that has happened tonight and in the past and he's going to let her decide what she wants to reveal and what she wants to hide and what he deserves to know and he trusts her so he knows she'll make the right choices.

"Thank you for not asking."

Their eyes are locked together again and he isn't sure what she's talking about and this, he thinks, must be the real test of how well he can read her because there are so many possibilities and he sorts through them and discounts her change of heart about them and even about whatever happened to her and he has a flash of memory, from a few hours earlier, when she was straddling him and gripping his head while his face was pressed to her chest and his lips traced the chain holding the compass around her neck and his tongue found a scar, a cluster of four circles on her breast, and he pulled away in surprise but her head was thrown back while she rode him and he wasn't sure because he'd never seen her breast uncovered before and he suspected it was part of the reason why she was on top and she seemed perfectly fine with the way things were and so he'd dropped his mouth back to her nipple and hadn't let the thought cross his mind again. He knows that's it, that as unaware as she'd seemed, she'd known exactly what he'd found and what he'd thought and he's proud of himself for finally making the right choice where his relationship with her was concerned. Asking would have ruined the moment and the mood and probably sent her running from his apartment.

"The only thing I care about is that you're ok and you're here." His hand drops to her waist, pulling her body back against his, but his eyes hold hers and he swears their bond doubles in strength when they both recognize that time and distance and misunderstandings will never sever this thing between them because they can still have conversations without words after everything that's happened.

"I'm fine." She smiles at him, a sigh escaping as she leans her head on his shoulder again. "I'm good." Her hands flatten against his skin, her nails digging in the slightest bit like she's checking to make sure this is real. "I'm great, actually."

"Me too."

"And thank you for waiting," she whispers against his skin and he realizes he did it again, he made the right choice with her, by backing off when she'd rebuffed him in January, and it doesn't matter if he did it more out of embarrassment than understanding, because it was still the right thing and she's ready now and that's what's important.

"I told you I'm not doing any more of these jobs, Liv," he breathes life into the words, the truth, and he wishes they could have been here sooner, but he's at least glad they're here now where he can admit that he's choosing her over his career and not worry that she's going to take his confession badly. "But I didn't tell you why."

"Because you want to be here," she tells him what he hasn't yet told her and he realizes that she might have been waiting for him to understand and the mutual understanding is important to her or maybe she needed him to choose her and she somehow knew he had and that's why she's ready now. "With me."

"With you." Maybe she's sure, maybe she's not, but he can't take the chance that she needs the reassurance and he's happy to offer it. "I'm not leaving you again."

He presses a kiss onto her forehead and then reaches back to take her hand, threading their fingers together again because he needs some contact if he's going to step away from her and he needs to see her face right now, so he moves, her eyes meeting his as she processes the idea he's pulling away, but he has to because he's been away for so damn long and he'll never have enough time to stare in her eyes and he needs to say it right now more than he needs to breathe. "I love you. I always have."

"I know." She nods and he feels it before she says it. "I love you too."

He squeezes her hand to tell her he knows. He's always known. And he's glad they're here now, where they can say it and they can reach for each other when they want to and they can kiss and cuddle and be. "Let's go back to bed."

She grins at him, her eyebrow raised at his unplanned double entendre, and he knows she's fine with either interpretation. "Good idea."

And then he pulls, leading her by the hand, back towards the bedroom, but it's only a few steps before she's directly beside him, right at his side and matching his stride the way she always has, exactly where he's always wanted her, their bodies crowding through the doorway together the way they always will.