While watching SVU recently, Mousie and I were complaining about the fact that SVU seems hell-bent on ignoring Olivia's serious relationship with Brian Cassidy, despite the fact that it was (arguably) more serious than Ed Tucker.
There is some smut at the end of this so if that's not your thing, feel free to skip, and you won't miss anything important.
He's determined to have a nice evening out tonight with Olivia, one that doesn't involve takeout or shoveling Noah's cereal into their mouth for a late, exhausted dinner like they've been doing for the last few weeks. It helps that they live together now, and even a little time together is better than no time at all.
But they're both going stir crazy, anxious for a night away from their respective precincts and children and all the other bullshit.
They have a reservation at a nice little French bistro, the romantic kind with flickering candles, white tablecloths, and names on the menu he's sure to butcher. Elliot likes to think he's become a little more cultured since his time spent living in Europe — Liv loves to make fun of his coffee snobbery — but he still feels slightly out of place at restaurants like these. Like someone's going to take one look at him and ask him what the hell he's doing there, despite the very nice three-piece blue suit he has on right now. The one his partner says brings out the color in his eyes.
But if there's anyone who deserves to be wined and dined, his comfort be damned, it's his girl.
He has to head to their date straight from the precinct and receives a breathless, apologetic call from her just as he pulls up alongside the restaurant.
"I'm so sorry. I got tied up, but I'm probably going to be another 30 minutes so I can shower quick and change my clothes. The restaurant said they can hold our reservation til then. Think you can entertain yourself for half an hour and stay out of trouble?"
He grins. "Eh, I make no promises," he says before reassuring her that it's fine, he'll duck into the pub next door for a drink and catch a bit of the game that's on tonight.
Thirty minutes, not the end of the world. They're going to have a nice evening out tonight.
Once inside, Elliot settles down onto a barstool, grateful that it's not overly packed in here tonight. The Mets are on, and he honestly can't remember the last time he sat down to watch a ball game.
He lifts two fingers and flags the bartender down for a Guinness just as the Mets hit a foul ball, much to the angry jeers of the rowdy men crowding the end of the bar. Elliot shakes his head, amused, when out of the corner of his eye, he catches one of them sidling away from the ruckus, having had enough.
Elliot squints. Wait -
"Holy shit. Stabler?"
Elliot meets a pair of vaguely familiar brown eyes and a full head of graying hair. It takes him a few seconds to clock that the man in front of him — practically a stranger of 27 years at this point — is none other than Brian Cassidy.
He looks a lot rougher around the edges now, no longer the young and green detective Elliot once knew him as, but it's definitely him.
"Brian Cassidy," Elliot says with an incredulous smile, "How the hell you been, man?" He gets up from his seat and pulls the former SVU detective into a loose hug, clapping him on the back.
"Eh, can't complain much," Cassidy replies. "How you doing, Stabler?"
"Pretty good, myself." Elliot gestures for him to sit down next to him, which he does, wincing a bit as he settles in.
"You okay?" Elliot asks, concerned.
"Bad knee." Brian grimaces. "Got shot on the job last year and my leg hasn't been the same since."
"Shit. You still on the job?"
The other man shakes his head regretfully. "Collecting disability now, probably for the rest of my life."
"I'm sorry, man, that's rough." The bartender sets a glass down in front of him, and Elliot lifts it in thanks.
"It is what it is," Cassidy says, but there's a forlornness in his tone that makes Elliot empathize with him. Disability would be a hell of a way to leave the force. Elliot can't imagine having the choice taken away from him like that. Honestly, it's one of the reasons he's worked as hard as he has to be in even better shape than he was during his time at SVU. The more he can prolong his body falling apart on him, the better.
Cassidy takes a long swig of his beer. "You been back about five years now, right? Buddy of mine said you landed in OC."
Elliot nods. "Yeah, I've been working on a task force there for awhile now, since I came back."
"Good gig?"
"Some long undercover stints sometimes, but I've got a great team. I'm happy there."
"And, uh, Liv? How's she doin'?" Cassidy asks, looking a little too casual.
Elliot looks down at his beer, smiling. "Still got a contact with the NYPD grapevine?"
"Nah. Heard you came back and figured it was only a matter of time, you know? Though I was real sorry to hear about your wife."
"Appreciate that," he replies sincerely. "Liv's good, too. She's busy running the squad at SVU, rarely slows down."
"Yeah, slowin' down was never Liv's MO." He clears his throat. "But you always just deal with it, because Liv…well, you can't help but stand in her sunshine, even if you know it's just for a little while."
Elliot nods, though he's a little confused. The man's not wrong but Elliot finds it a little odd that he seems to still be carrying a small torch for Olivia, despite the short-lived and casual nature of their dynamic…27 years ago. Though he's sure pretty much every man who's ever stepped foot in her path probably carries a torch for her. Tough not to.
"I always knew it was gonna be you, and I hated you a little bit back then," Cassidy admits. "Even after you left, you just always felt like the third person in our relationship. And she never talked about you during those two years, not once. One time I tried to ask her what happened and she just…shut down." He takes a sip of his beer, wincing. "Wasn't sure she'd even come home that night."
Elliot's stunned into silence. Liv and Cassidy? He knows she'd had a couple of casual relationships when he was gone, but she only ever mentioned Ed Tucker as being truly serious.
Wasn't sure she'd even come home that night. Did they live together?
Fucking hell.
He's dying to know more, but doesn't want to let on that Liv never mentioned this relationship to him. He likes the guy and doesn't want to insult him — even if Elliot is also currently brimming with jealousy over the fact that this man seems to have shared a whole-ass apartment with Olivia Benson. He really thought he was the first to claim that honor, but guess not.
"I'm glad she had you," Elliot says carefully — and it's true. He's glad someone had Liv's back while he was gone.
"I always wondered where we'd be, you know, if she'd been pregnant like she thought." Brian smiles, a little sad as he picks at the label on his beer. "Don't get it twisted, I still don't want kids, but having a little family with Olivia Benson? Sounds kinda nice."
Elliot nearly falls off his chair. A pregnancy scare? Jesus Christ.
He nods politely, quietly gritting his teeth while he checks his phone. He still has about 10 minutes until Olivia gets there.
Cassidy reads his silence incorrectly, nudging him. "I'm sorry, man. You don't want to hear this. I'm happy for you two, really. You've both been through hell and back, and you deserve to be happy."
Elliot waves him off. "It's fine, really." It's absolutely not fine, but it's not Cassidy's fault and he appreciates his comment all the same. "Out of curiosity, when was the last time you saw Liv?"
Cassidy rubs his chin in thought. "It's been awhile, probably 6-7 years since that trial. She tell you about that?"
He feels okay being honest about this part and shakes his head.
"Nah, it's not important," Cassidy brushes it off. "Old baseball coach of mine got busted for pedophilia. Case kinda fell apart until Liv convinced me to testify."
Elliot's heart sinks into his stomach, thinking of the young detective he knew back then trying to wade through the worst of humanity at SVU while keeping his own dark secret. Explains at least some of the reasons why he couldn't cut at the squad for very long.
"I'm sorry," Elliot says sincerely.
Cassidy nods, gets a distant, faraway look in his eye as his gaze travels to the television. The silence between them is long, heavy.
"Mets really suck this year, huh?" Cassidy observes, his voice a little weak, a little broken. He swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.
"That they do." Elliot rests a hand on Cassidy's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "That they do."
There's no more talk of Liv then, or of the darkness that haunts them both sometimes, as they cheers to the game and bitch about the weather.
Until, that is, when Olivia Benson walks in dressed to the fucking nines looking like sex on a stick and just slightly this side of annoyed. Elliot frowns, confused about why she didn't just meet him at the restaurant, when he checks his phone and realizes it's five minutes past their new reservation time and he's got a missed text from her from 10 minutes ago.
"Sorry, I missed your text," he explains before she can open her mouth, "and we got caught up - " he gestures to the man sitting next to him, partially obstructed from her view.
On cue, Cassidy ducks his head around. "Good to see you, Liv." He grins, taking her in for a beat too long that has Elliot gripping his beer glass too tightly. "Ya haven't changed a bit."
"Bri - uh," she stammers, "Cassidy!" Liv, rightfully, looks taken off guard as her eyes flit between them before she gives Cassidy a friendly hug.
"It's been awhile this time," she says fondly, cocking her head. "You look good."
"I look like hell," he counters, "but you've gotten better at lying."
He's joking (maybe? Elliot is new to this dynamic), but it doesn't stop Olivia from stiffening slightly beside him. If Cassidy notices, he doesn't say anything.
Now officially on the other side of annoyed, Olivia turns to him, expectant. "You ready? We'll miss our reservation."
Oh, but Elliot's not done here. "It'll keep for another five minutes. Why don't you sit down, catch up with Bri for a few minutes, baby?"
They were supposed to have a nice evening out tonight, her eyes tell him. But for him, the night's already been ruined. He shrugs, feeling petty.
Olivia's gaze narrows like she wants to murder him and won't hesitate doing it in front of a crowded bar, but he knows he's got her — she's the one in trouble, not him.
Despite the "you've gotten better at lying" comment — which he still doesn't really understand, but assumes he probably never will — Liv and Cassidy are pretty friendly for the few minutes they linger, fond even. And there's something else there, too, that he can't quite put his finger on.
But then he hears Cassidy ask Liv how she's really doing, his voice low and hushed, sympathetic — and it hits him.
A few months into their relationship, Liv had finally told him what had happened to her when he was gone, the horror and trauma she'd been through at the hands of a psychopath. She mentioned a boyfriend she'd been seeing at the time, and all this time he assumed it was Ed Tucker, that she just didn't want to bring his name up again (after how poorly he took it when she mentioned his full name the first time).
But now it's all clicking together like a puzzle in his brain, the largest piece being the fact that they seemed to have moved in together, even though they were only together for a couple years. Very un-Olivia Benson like, his little commitment phobe.
Cassidy was there through it all, and it knocks him on his ass like a sucker punch.
Elliot shakes Cassidy's hand when they leave — it was good to see you, man — but remains quiet as they duck into the restaurant to have dinner. Liv doesn't say anything or call him out on it, but he can see the concern flickering in her eyes the longer he goes without speaking more than he needs to.
He does feel bad — he didn't want to ruin this night they've been waiting weeks for, but he's completely thrown that Olivia never mentioned such a pillar in her life during that time. A man she almost had a child with. Especially since the two of them seem to still be on friendly terms with each other, despite the time that's passed and whatever else has transpired between them.
The weight of it hangs over the entire dinner and he watches Olivia slowly shift from concerned to frustrated, though she still doesn't say anything. But he knows if he keeps this up that it's only a matter of time before she calls him on his bullshit.
She's got a right to feel pissed, too, he knows. He hates that she didn't tell him, but he also doesn't have much of a leg to stand on after abandoning her for a fucking decade, and she deserves a nice night out too —
But it's all just a mess inside his head.
God, she's never met a more infuriating man in her entire life than Elliot Stabler.
She rushed out of the precinct during a semi-active case, threw on her best dress and a smudge of red lipstick for this?
Elliot continues his wordless streak on the ride back to their place, remains quiet even as they step through the door of their empty apartment, the one she'd been looking forward to coming home to all day — until now.
The worst part, though, is that he doesn't look angry, jealous, or any of the other thousand annoying emotions she's used to getting from him when it comes to other men and relationships in her life.
Instead, he looks…disappointed. Sad, even.
Which is worse. And she understands — but she wishes they could've just talked it out instead of doing this brooding sulking thing he seems to love so much. Some things never change.
So yeah, she's pissed, too.
Olivia throws her purse onto the table — thanking god they have the place to themselves tonight in case they have to go multiple rounds in the boxing ring — and pours them two glasses of wine.
"You ever going to say anything, or are you just going to keep giving me the silent treatment?" she asks, thrusting his glass into his chest, the wine sloshing dangerously. It'd serve him right, she thinks, stepping away.
Elliot chuckles mirthlessly. "You know, speaking of silence - "
"Oh screw you, Elliot - "
She can actually see the exact moment his sadness morphs into anger. His spine goes ramrod straight, the vein in his neck pulsing, jaw clenched so hard it could break teeth. Yeah, she can still push his buttons like nobody else.
"I've been back 5 years, Olivia, and you never said a damn word. I just sat there nodding like an absolute idiot, pretending I had a clue about anything he said."
She spins around on her heel, getting in his face. "I'm not going to stand here and listen to you lecture me about staying quiet," she bristles, shoving a finger into his chest, "You really want to play that game? 'Cause I can guarantee you won't win."
"This is not about me," he shouts, startling her a little. But no, they need to have it out. Maybe it's a little fucked up, but it's what they do best, the only way they can move forward. "Stop deflecting - "
"You ruined our entire night and for what? A little jealousy over an ex-boyfriend," she fires back, slamming back a long sip of her wine.
"Olivia - " he breaks off, shaking his head. Her eyes fall to the clench of his fists at his side and it really takes her back to another time. It's been a long time since they've had a fight like this.
"Look, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, all right - "
"Yeah, ya sound sorry." Elliot waves a hand and stalks off, setting his wine glass on the counter, untouched. He plants himself in front of the sink with his back turned, gripping the countertop so tightly that his knuckles are white.
"You're still such a son of a bitch, you know that?" she hisses.
"Yeah, what else is new, baby?" And it boils her blood, the way he takes his term of endearment for her and twists it all up into an argument, tainting it.
"God, does anything ever change with you? You're still the same jealous bastard you always were."
He laughs loudly, but it's empty and hollow. Unnerving. " I haven't changed? Yeah, that's real rich coming from you, Olivia."
It's cold then, awkward, and she can cut the silence with a fucking knife. "You know, Elliot, I've put up with a lot of your jealous bullshit over the years. Brian was there for me, okay? He was there for me when you weren't - "
"Goddammit, Olivia." Elliot turns around so fast that it gives her whiplash. "This isn't about Cassidy. This is about you shutting me out. You and I live together for Christ's sake, and you're still keeping things from me." He pauses, collecting himself a bit as he settles. "This is about the fact that you don't trust me."
She scoffs in disbelief. "I don't tell you about one part of my life and now I don't trust you? Are you kidding me?"
"Don't downplay it, Olivia," he shakes his head, "Don't do that. You lived with him, you almost had kids with him. I know you moved in with him after - " he breaks off, doesn't finish as he deflates a little. Trying to be mindful of the territory he's usually so careful not to step into. "I did the math and filled in the blanks. I'm right, aren't I?"
She swallows roughly, a lump forming in her throat. "Yes."
It's quiet for a minute then as they take a beat. She sucks in a long, slow breath, closing her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, concerned. She hears him take a couple of shuffling steps toward her. "Is this triggering you?"
"No," she reassures him, opening her eyes. "I'm okay."
Relieved, he nods, scratching at his beard. He opens his mouth again, but closes it. Stuck on what he wants to say. "I'm not jealous, Liv. Or - you know, maybe I am a little bit. Who wouldn't be? He got to shack up with the girl of my dreams before I did." She softens a little bit at that.
Elliot's resigned as he collapses onto a barstool. "And I know, I know that's my fault, but I'm just…upset that you kept it from me. It seems like he was a really important person in your life when you needed someone, and I just wish you'd told me about him."
Olivia sighs and sets her wine glass down before she closes the distance between them. "Things with Brian were complicated, Elliot."
He throws her a knowing look. "Complicated like you and I were complicated?"
"I'm not sure anything was as complicated as you and me," she says dryly, laying her hands on his shoulders as she steps between his legs. His broad hands settle at her hips as he looks up at her with his bright blue eyes, patient and listening as he waits for her to go on.
"I loved Brian, I did. I wasn't in love with him, but I loved him. We had some good times together, and for the most part, he was good to me." She shrugs. "But El, he's also tangled up in my head with some bad shit that happened when you were gone. Not just Lewis, but other stuff, too, after we broke up. And most of that isn't his fault, but it's just…a lot to dredge up."
She slides her hands up to brace his neck gently, swiping her thumbs along his jaw. "But I should've told you, and I'm sorry that I didn't. I never wanted to hurt you."
His intense gaze searches her face, and with anyone else, she would shrink away from it, how exposed and vulnerable he makes her feel. "You trust me, Liv?"
Oh, she loves him so much.
"Yeah," she manages, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "More than anyone in this world, Elliot."
"Good." His eyes crinkle with a small smile as he fully lays his armor down, his body sagging a little with relief. "I'm sorry date night was ruined."
His fingers smooth over the silky fabric at her hips as his eyes fall to her cleavage before trailing down to her hips and thighs. "I didn't even tell you how incredible you look tonight."
She smiles, leaning down to touch his forehead with hers. "No, you didn't."
"Maybe I can make it up to you?" he suggests throatily, his hands sliding around to squeeze her ass.
Her breath catches as her fingernails scrape against the fabric at his shoulders. "What'd you have in mind, detective?"
"Let me show you, Cap'n," he growls.
Olivia's right, he decides, he is a son of a bitch. The luckiest son of a bitch on the planet, he thinks as his tongue slides into her warm mouth, fumbling around for the zipper on her dress so he can get her tits free. They're in the middle of the goddamn kitchen with all the lights on ready to devour each other.
"I know it's a little fucked up," he mumbles at her lips, "but you're so sexy when you fight with me, Liv."
"Thank God," she moans. "I feel the same." She wraps a hand around his wrist and drags it through the slit in her dress, up and under the lip of her underwear where she's hot and waiting for him. "See?" she goads through heavy-lidded eyes.
"Fuck," he groans. "You're so wet." Screw the bedroom, he wants to lay her down on the counter and have her here, just like this. Elliot reaches for the hem of her dress and hikes it up, gathering it in his fist before he lifts her easily onto the edge of the island. She squeaks into his mouth, unprepared, and it makes him smile.
"Here?" she asks, a little unconvinced.
He pulls the straps of her dress down, freeing her perfect tits into his hands. "Unless you don't want to," he replies, thumbing her nipples.
"No, no, 's good," she says breathlessly, clamping down on her lower lip, one of her hands reaching around to the back of his neck.
"Good, because I think you're going to like my vision." Elliot flicks his tongue out to lick at her nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, groaning into her tits.
"Oh yeah?" she gasps, her nails digging into his skin, marking her territory. "What's that?"
He lets go of her nipple, brushes his beard gently against the other one in that way he knows she loves, relishing the shudder that echoes through her body. "Laying you down right here and eating you out," he murmurs, nipping softly at the skin of her breast.
"Fuck."
"Yeah, maybe we'll do that afterwards, too," he chuckles.
Elliot suckles at her breasts, savoring her sighs of encouragement until she can't take anymore, begging him for more, her hands clenched tightly at his shoulders.
"Can you lean back for me, baby? Be careful," he says softly, his hands firmly supporting her back as she heeds his request. "That's it, good girl."
He drops to his knees — which are definitely going to kill him tomorrow — and reaches for her golden thick thighs, gently tugging her legs toward him before he opens her up.
"Tap my shoulders if you get uncomfortable or need to stop," he says, recalling the times Olivia was so eager and worked up that her thighs crushed his ears and muffled his hearing.
Zero complaints from him.
He teases her first, which may be risking his life considering how desperate she'd been a minute earlier — but he can't help himself. He licks her inner thigh, connecting her freckles and smirking at the way it makes her jerk, before he sucks the delicate skin there.
"Elliot," she growls impatiently, slapping the edge of the island.
"Okay, okay," he laughs, removing his lips from her leg. Olivia opens her legs wider and he receives the message loud and clear, parting her lips before his tongue finally finds her. She lets out a low cry, keyed up from all the teasing, hands grappling for the edge of the island as she tries to steady herself.
Elliot groans into her sex, hands gripping her thighs tightly, licking her thoroughly. Shit, she's so perfect and wet . He slides two fingers inside her to join his mouth and then he hears her whimper, keening, before her thighs are clamping around his head, and he gets lost in the feel of her on his tongue.
He can tell she's close by the way she rocks against his fingers and mouth, trying to pull him even deeper.
"Come for me, baby. I wanna feel you." Elliot buries his face into her, pumping his fingers harder, sucking her clit into his mouth, and it's quick then, her back snapping as she sobs out, her orgasm crashes through her. Fuck, he loves her so much.
When she's done, he kisses her thigh and rests his cheek there, his thumbs brushing soothing circles on her skin as he waits for her to come down.
Olivia sighs, boneless and sated, and he gets up from his spot on the floor to where her head rests. Cheeks flushed and still breathing a little heavy, she smiles up at him. "Hi."
"Hi." He chuckles.
"Come here." She gestures, tugging at his hand so she can pull him into her for a soft kiss. "I love you."
Elliot grins, never gets tired of hearing those words cross her lips. "I love you, too."
When she claims his mouth again, her kiss is deep and thorough as she moans around his tongue. When he pulls back, he finds her eyes black as night, waiting for him. His groin tightens even more.
Olivia smirks. "Drop your pants, detective," she orders, her voice thick and raspy in that way that makes his toes curl inside his shoes.
"Yes, Captain."
When she comes again a short while later, he thinks to himself that maybe they salvaged their nice evening out after all.
I've got some more SVU stories on AO3, but eventually I'll get around to cross-posting them here. Love to hear from you!
-Liv