There are many sentences that scare the shit out of him – I'm sorry, there was nothing we could do; It's your son; Dad, I hate you; I want a divorce; I'm pregnant; Liv's in computer crimes, you needed a break from each other; It's just too complicated… And now he could add another one to the list – I'm hit.
His blood ran cold when he heard her say these words. It had been good, they were working together, remembering the old times, making jokes, sharing meals… She was laughing and then the next minute there was a crazy gunman trying to take them out and he couldn't see anything. She was by his side.
"I can't see."
"I can."
*Bang* *Bang*
She was on the ground next to him, her hands guiding his gun and her head next to his. Had they been anywhere else – literally anywhere else – he would've remembered to savor the moment. Of course he'd dreamt of lying next to her, but never like that on the floor of some diner in Ohio.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah."
"You get hit?"
"I'm hit."
That terrified him more than it should. Olivia has been on the job for 30 years, from patrol officer to detective to eventually Captain. They'd had their moments of severe danger, his body has been pierced by bullets plenty, but Olivia had been spared. To his knowledge, this was the first bullet to ever puncture her body.
Maybe that was the reason why it was so terrifying. That, and the fact that he couldn't see.
From the moment she said that she was hit, his only priority was to get her out of the diner and into the closest hospital – there was no way that he was gonna lose her. He jumped up, helped her and without letting go of her hand, he guided it around his shoulder and the next moment his left arm was around her waist and his right below her knees. It was only then that he remembered that his vision was blurry at best and he couldn't navigate her safely out of the diner. She must've remembered before he did – something about their brains working as one – and was guiding him around the dead man and the desks in the diner.
He'd imagined picking her up and carrying her through the living room into their bedroom so many times. He's held her a few times – once he almost picked her up, when she had the flu and refused to get to bed. Sometimes he wished that he'd just done it, other times he grinned at the memory of trying to convince her that she needed to sleep, while she was stubbornly refusing to move from her couch.
There were FBI agents greeting him outside, insisting that they would take Olivia to a hospital, but Elliot didn't trust any of them with the precious Captain in his arms. Once outside his vision was coming back and he wished he'd had a warning before he glanced at her and he was met with the most perfect pair of breasts any woman could have and they were right there in front of him, prominently pushed up in that white shirt she was wearing and it took him a second to remember what he was doing and not just lower his head in between them. It wasn't the time to admire her tits, there would hopefully be a time for that. But not yet.
It took Elliot most of his willpower to look at anything else – like the carpark in front of him and focus on the FBI car he was gonna take.
As he walked towards the car, barking at the agents to get him the keys, his vision was becoming clearer and clearer, a memory from a lifetime ago entered his mind. He remembered waking up in the hospital with blurred vision and while he could hear Olivia's voice, he couldn't see her. That terrified him – for a moment he thought that the last memory of her he was gonna have was her walking back to the car beside him in her blue shirt and black jacket with her hair short in a bob. She was a force back then, she's even more of one now.
"You're gonna be okay."
He whispered as he lowered her into the passenger seat of the car, he held the headrest of the seat while he pushed it lover so Olivia would be more comfortable.
"I don't think it's too bad."
"I'll take a look, that okay?"
"Okay."
She grunted, when he pulled up her blood soaked white t-shirt and exposed her golden skin. The blood was slowly bubbling through the bullet shaped hole and turning her shirt into maroon, she'd have to throw the shirt away, the soaked blood wouldn't come out in a wash and the shirt had a small 5mm size hole in it. She wasn't bleeding heavily, but enough to make his blood pressure jump.
He pressed down on the wound. She groaned. Her fingers wrapped around his forearm, then squeezed so tight that he might bruise, but it was nothing compared to the hole just above her hipbone. Her face was paler than normal.
Elliot kept the pressure on the wound and she held his forearm with groans escaping from her lips. He was suddenly scared. He hadn't been to church for awhile, but out there in the parking lot, he turned to his god and prayed for Olivia to survive. She couldn't die before he had a chance to make her happy. He willed her not to die without giving them a chance.
He whispered how she was going to be okay, hoping that was the truth.
An agent appeared and handed Elliot the keys. In the other hand he held an evidence bag. It took Elliot a second to figure out what that was for. He had almost yelled at the guy for wanting Olivia's shirt for evidence, before he remembered that he had fired his weapon.
Elliot removed his hands from Olivia, blood started flowing again after he removed his palms. He took her left hand – not the one still wrapped around his forearm – and pressed down on her wound. She did as she was told, in the process she let go of him.
"Keep the pressure on."
Without any hesitation he took his gun, unarmed it and placed the gun and his clip with one bullet missing in the evidence bag. Elliot suddenly remembered the Chicago musical he went to see with Lizzie after he moved back to NY – and the song We Both Reached for the Gun. Well, both he and Olivia had reached for his gun this time. Except there would be no trial this time, it was a good shooting with plenty of witnesses.
He looked around and saw the agents, some observing Elliot, others trying to secure the scene and start rolling out the tape while ushering people to talk to other agents and give their statements. That was FBI's business, not Elliots.
With keys in his hand, his vision mostly returned, he closed the passenger door, rounded the car and took off with lights flashing and every traffic rule ignored.
He glanced over at Olivia, who had the sense to take out her phone and look up instructions on how to get to a hospital – there was an urgent care center nearby and that's where she started guiding him.
"It's gonna be okay. You'll be fine."
He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.
"Yeah."
He reached over to her and took her right hand in hers, almost like she'd done a few years back, when they were looking for Eli. Her hand was warm, her fingers fit into his like they were always meant to be there.
"How far?"
"7 minutes."
Elliot got there in four.
The car was forgottenly parked on the sidewalk in front of the hospital. He'd been in a rush to get her out of the car, lift her back into his arms and get her inside. She was so beautiful. She fit so right into his arms. She was also bleeding.
"You're gonna be okay."
Him walking into the registration desk with Olivia in his arms and her white shirt now covered in maroon blood patterns was enough to warrant a nurse to rush there with a wheelchair and get a doctor. And then she was taken away behind the doors with signs banning him from entering.
Elliot tossed the keys to an orderly who dared to make a comment about his parallel parking skills – the car was parked perfectly between the wheelchair access ramp and parallel to the doors. It was no longer his problem, it wasn't even his car.
And then he waited.
And waited some more.
He texted Fin that he was in the hospital, but no update yet. And then he texted Amanda.
Ayanna called. She spoke something about the guy, who tried to kill them, but Elliot wasn't really listening. The case was no longer the first thing in his mind, Olivia was. Unfortunately, there had been no update since she was wheeled away.
So he decided to go to the front desk to ask questions. It was probably a bit ironic, but in a moment like that he remembered that same night they were looking for Eli and how she managed the nurse – opposite to his natural reaction of barging down and demanding answers – and chose to try that approach. He'd do anything for her.
He put his hands on the desk and politely asked for an update on Olivia – the woman with the gunshot wound. It was a different girl at the desk now. It felt like she was typing as slowly as humanly possible while pretending to listen to Elliot and ignore the urgency of his request.
Another nurse came – thankfully the same one who saw Elliot walk through the doors with Olivia in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world and asking for help.
"Sir, your wife was taken to surgery to remove the bullet. They will assess and repair the damage, it's hard to say how long it's gonna be, but I can assure you that she's in good hands. If you'd like to, you can bring her some comfortable clothes to change into after."
Elliot noticed the gold wedding band on his finger. He cursed in his head. Kathy would be turning around in her grave if she knew someone presumed Olivia was Elliot's wife from a wedding ring Kathy had given him.
It felt right though. Olivia as a wife. Olivia as his wife.
He didn't bother to correct the nurse, he could pretend now and one day he would hopefully be her husband for real. Besides, the nurses were more likely to hand him information about Olivia if they thought he was her husband. Yeah, he was gonna not correct them and pretend.
He gave his number to the nurse, who promised to call if there's any update while he was gone, then decided to go back to the hotel and grab Olivia some fresh clothes like the nurse had suggested. He managed to talk himself into getting Olivia's personal items from the nurses, he grabbed the keycard to her hotel room and left the rest in the plastic bag for Olivia to collect when she opened her eyes.
xx
He didn't quite know what to expect in her room. They'd shared dinner the night before in his room, she saw the way he lived, but he had yet to see hers. It wasn't the way he thought he'd enter her room – he'd imagined almost falling through the door while kissing her and running his fingers through her hair the night before. This was quite a different scenario.
It was tidy. Her blazer and a few work shirts were neatly hanging by the closet. Her workpants tossed over the back of the chair to avoid wrinkles. Her suitcase was half-open with her small packing cube of underwear poking out suspiciously. He didn't want to look – that's not the way he wanted to see her underwear for the first time so he willed himself not to look.
Yet he did.
It looked like she had packed a few pairs of regular bikinis made out of some soft silky and probably expensive material, some G-strings and at least a pair of something black and lacy was poking out. And for a moment he thought that the black and lacy might've because of him – he'd thought about it, maybe she had too?
He didn't go there though.
Elliot thought about taking the whole suitcase, but then he thought that would be overkill. He saw a handbag at the table next to a pair of flat sneakers she had taken. It had been awhile since he'd seen her wear anything but heels. He was glad to know she still owned comfortable shoes.
Another look around the room and he found a pair of black stretchy sweatpants neatly on the chair next to the bed. He grabbed them with a black cotton shirt, which had been folded on the chair underneath the pants. Next he took the whole small packing cube of her underwear and shoved that into the small handbag. He finished by putting her shoes in plastic bag to avoid dirtying the clothes and put them on top, hiding the packing cube with underwear.
He was about to leave happy with the clothes he found and stop himself from invading into her privacy too much, he stepped into the bathroom. Her toiletries were neatly on the cupboard – a hundred tiny travel sized skin care products were lined up. He found her make-up bag and put all different face creams and whatever else she had brought in there with her toothbrush and toothpaste.
Last item he picked was her phone charger from the table and he was out.
One glance at himself and he realized he needed to change. His shirt and jeans were stained with blood. He'd washed his hands already.
A quick stop in his room, a 5-minute shower and clean clothes later he was ready to leave. As an afterthought he took one of the T-shirts he had packed and put that into the bag for Olivia in case she needed another shirt. Or if she wanted to wear something of his. If questioned, he could pretend that it got there by accident.
Xx
It took a few hours of waiting before she was out of surgery. He was on a coffee number 5 already by that time.
"She's out of surgery. Everything went well, we removed the bullet and pieces of shrapnel. The bullet ended in her intestines and nicked her uterus, but we were able to repair the damage. We're expecting her to make a full recovery and should be ready to go home in a couple of days," the doctor said, he looked tired, but offered Elliot a smile.
"She's gonna be okay?"
The doctor nodded, then gave Elliot the room number where they had taken Olivia, and after that Elliot didn't really care anymore. He was on the run.
She looked pale in the white hospital gown. There were tubes going to her vein and a heart monitor attached to her chest. She was still so beautiful.
Elliot waited in the chair by her bedside for 76 minutes until she woke up, during which he updated Ayanna, Fin and Rollins. Noah was yet to be notified.
Olivia opened her eyes with a groan and then winced, her face grimacing. Elliot made his presence known as not to startle her, he stood from the chair and closed the distance to the bed.
"I was shot," she said, her voice coarse. She cleared her throat. Her hands moved to the place on her hip, which was covered with white bandages.
"You're supposed to duck," he said with a smile. He'd spent the past 76 minutes thinking of what to say to her, when she woke up. It was between asking her how she was and telling her that he loved her, but when she opened her eyes he was reminded of all the times he'd been in the hospital bed and she was waiting.
"You're supposed to leave," she replied, remembering the same exchange from when he'd been undercover as TSA agent and got shot twice.
He sat at her bedside, he wanted to pull her into his arms, but he resisted. Not yet. It was time for baby steps with her not gigantic leaps.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I got shot."
He chuckled.
"How would you know?"
There was a hint of tease in his voice accompanied by his signature boyish grin.
"I worked with you long enough."
"That checks out."
She exhaled, checked her bandage again – Elliot couldn't turn away. He wanted to cover her injury with his palm and heal her, he wished he could've taken that bullet for her. Most of all he wished he could hold her and keep her safe.
She laughed.
Elliot looked at her with questions in his eyes, she just shook her head and kept laughing. She pulled the blankets over her injury.
"Of course, I was with you when I got shot. There was no other chance."
Elliot chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. He wanted to say something about them being good partners or something about them working well together, but he couldn't think of anything. And her getting shot the one time they work together could probably hold some deeper meaning if one wanted to make it like that.
"Some thirty years on the job – on the patrol, as a detective – I've been shot at so many times, I've taken the shot… But I've never been shot. Until now as a captain when I'm chained to my desk, I work a case with you and the second I leave my desk and my precinct, I get shot," she said with laugh, there was no accusation in her voice.
Elliot laughed with her. "I guess I'm a magnet for dangerous."
"And it has nothing to do with you looking for dangerous?"
Now there was accusation in her voice, hidden behind hints of teasing.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"You came to me with this case."
She tilted her head. He was right.
He moved his hand until he found hers. Her hand looked so small when he ran his thumb over the back of her hand.
"I'm glad you're okay."
"I'm a survivor." And that in more ways than he knew. Yet. "With you I'm much more used to be on the other side of the bed."
"Same."
They laughed.
"I couldn't see anything. I heard that shot and I couldn't see." What he meant to say was that he was terrified. He was scared out of his mind at the thought of Olivia being shot and him losing her again. He couldn't lose her.
She pressed her lips together, tilted her head and looked at him with the same big eyes full of compassion like he had been the one who got shot.
Elliot was about to say something, when her phone started ringing on the bedside table inside a plastic bag with her personal belongings. They looked at the screen, where they saw Noah's smiling face.
"We haven't told him yet. Carisi knows, we put off telling Noah until we knew more…" he answered the question she was yet to ask.
Olivia nodded.
"It's okay, he's a cop's son. He's had some exposure to this before," Olivia said absentmindedly. It almost sounded like he is used to this. No son should live like that with normalization that occasionally their mom gets hurt badly enough to go to the hospital.
There was so much more Elliot wanted to say, but he felt like it was his time to leave. Olivia probably needed to talk to Noah more than she needed his continued presence.
"I'll come back tomorrow morning," he said with resignation.
Olivia was already reaching for her phone, which had stopped ringing. She smiled warmly at Elliot, then suddenly the smile turned into wince – she must've stretched her injured side. Elliot swooped in instantly, his palm moved to her abdomen and pushed down gently to stop her movements, but not with enough force to properly restrict her. He grabbed the plastic bag with his other hand and handed that to her.
"Don't hurt yourself," he said with care, endearment even, and smiled at her. He was positive there was love pouring out of his eyes, something he wished he could be vocal about, but it wasn't the moment.
She rolled her eyes.
"I won't."
She looked for her phone which was full of different notifications, her fingers found Noah's name and pressed on it until his smiling face showed up on the screen again.
Elliot stood from the bed, he noticed the forgotten bag with her clothes and toiletries next to the chair he was occupying before.
"I got you some clothes and toothbrush and stuff like that," he said awkwardly and pointed at the bag.
"You went to my hotel room?"
Elliot nodded.
"Thank you."
He was prepared for her say something about him invading her privacy or something of the sorts. He was glad she didn't.
"Let me know if you want something else."
"Thank you."
And then Elliot left the room with a promise to come back the next day. He called Ayanna and Fin on his way to the hotel. They said Amanda had been working on the mother, but nothing yet. They'd start again in the morning.
Xx
She wasn't in her room, when Elliot got there the next morning. He'd spoken with Ayanna and knew that they were already talking to the mother again, determined to break her into giving away her son. That was something he could tell Olivia.
One of the nurses recognized him and said that his wife was in a different examination room and guided him down the hallway.
He found her dressed in the black shirt and sweatpants he had brought her. She looked relaxed, also quite different. For a minute he wondered what kind of underwear she had chosen, but he pushed those thoughts.
As he stood on the doorway, he heard a nurse telling her no physical activity for 2 weeks. He grinned. There was something about her being there without any makeup and in her casual clothes. She wasn't Captain Benson at the moment, she was just Olivia. And he was feeling a bit bolder then.
"How's your ass feeling?"
"I won't be sitting on it anytime soon."
He wanted to joke about how he could think of things they could do which would require no sitting, but he held his tongue as he stepped into the hospital room. She looked a lot better than the night before.
"Get me out of here?" she requested and held her arm out, ready to wrap it around his neck.
He nodded. It's not like she really needed to ask to wrap her arm around his neck – she could do that anytime she wanted. The more the better.
He bent down and allowed her arm to go around his neck and rest on his upper back. He wrapped both of his arms around her waist and spread his fingers on her back, cautious of her wound. He wished more than anything to keep holding her like that until the end of time.
She got up. They stood close together. His palms were on her waist and her fingers around his forearms. To think he almost lost her. He wouldn't want to live in a world like that.
Olivia's hand moved up to rest on his shoulder – if she didn't want to let go, then he wouldn't either. His palms rested firmly on the dip of her waist, well above her injured hip. She felt like home. More love was pouring from his eyes, his touch – from every cell in his body, every small molecule, every tiny atom, every minuscule piece of his existence was pouring love onto her, every little piece of him was so in love with her.
"You okay?"
He was supposed to ask that question. But truthfully, he wasn't okay. Hadn't been since he heard that shot followed by her admission of having been shot.
"I couldn't see anything. I heard that shot…" he paused. He looked into those big brown eyes, thinking how he could've lost her. For a second, he thought he had lost her while he was on the floor of that diner. "Thought I'd lost you."
There's no taking back those words now.
"I can't imagine what that brings up for you." She said like she was speaking to a victim or their family. Like she wasn't a victim of a shooting herself. Like there wasn't a bullet shaped hole in her left hip.
She moved her hand to rest on his chest right above his heart. The heart that belonged to her and was ready to jump out of his ribcage into her palm for her to keep. It had belonged to her longer than he could admit.
He knew exactly what the shooting brought up. He was reminded of every time he came close to losing her, he thought about her almost getting shot when they were working with Dean Fucking Porter, the time she inhaled poisonous mushrooms, the time she faked her death to some wealthy socialite…
And before he could say it, his phone rang. He wanted to curse. Why did their phones keep ringing at inconvenient times?
He released her as he answered. Ayanna. They had the guy. There was a part of him that wanted to stay in the hospital with Olivia, but there was another part of him wanting to bring the guy, who put a hit out on Olivia to justice. He made his decision. He'd go get the guy first and then come back for Olivia.
She dropped her hand from his chest, unknowingly she took his heart with her.
"You have to go?" She asked already knowing the answer.
He nodded.
"I'm glad."
She was lying.
He looked at her, wanting to call her out on it. And then he felt even bigger urge to kiss her right there and then. He couldn't remember a time when he had wanted to kiss anyone as badly as he wanted to kiss Olivia. Maybe a few months earlier in her kitchen, when he leaned in and almost almost kissed her. It dawned on him how it took her getting hurt for him to hold her – even if it for a short moment – and come close to kissing her. He prayed it wouldn't take another injury to her precious body before they would take the next step in their relationship.
He looked at her and for a moment he thought she might expect him to kiss her. He needed to be sure, so he decided against it. He was sure regret about not kissing her would show up as soon as he left the hospital. It wasn't the right time.
With a heavy heart he leaned in for a hug instead. He breathed in her hair, which smelt like antiseptic and hospital. His arms around her waist, her arm around his back – it felt so right. It felt like he was indeed married to her and it was just a casual goodbye until the night, when he would come back into her arms. He wished it was the truth.
He didn't want to leave her, but he had to.
"Be safe." She whispered as he rushed out of her room. He didn't hear her.
Xx
They had him. They had Kylie Wilkie, the creator of the Shadowerk. Except he slid a sword through his abdomen and they needed him alive to take down the website.
The medic was working on him and then a helicopter was heard in the background.
It all happened so fast. One minute Kylie was aiming his sword at Ayanna and the next he was being lifted to the helicopter. Ayanna climbed in.
"Come on, Stabler," she urged.
Elliot took a step, but then shook his head. There was somewhere else he needed to be. There was someone else that needed him more than Ayanna did.
"No, I can't come. I need to stay here," he said.
Ayanna looked confused for a moment, then her face softened, when she realized why Elliot couldn't come with her. She should've known. And in a way she was proud of her detective for making the right choice for himself – choosing himself over the case. Olivia and Elliot could use some time alone.
"Okay. Take care of the Captain," she said with a grin.
Elliot grinned back.
"I will," he promised and took off running in the other direction before the helicopter could become airborne.
Ayanna had been wrong when she started working with Elliot. Olivia Benson was probably just the woman Elliot needed to move on with. She didn't see it back then, she couldn't unsee it now. Funny how some things don't seem right while looking at it from the outside, but yet from the inside there is no other option.
Xx
He took Olivia back to her hotel room. He hesitated walking in behind her, but there was no hesitation in her. He dropped her bag by the table where he had found it. He would've carried her inside if she'd let him.
He needed to finish this conversation they started a few times, but never finished.
"Olivia."
"Yeah?"
She turned around. Oh god, she was so damn beautiful. Even after getting shot, she was a vision of ecstasy. How he managed to work around her for 13 years without kissing her was beyond him.
He took his phone from his back pocket, ignored the notifications and he turned it off, willing it not to ring again and disturb them. He was gonna get through the conversation before he lost his nerve.
"Where is your phone?"
Olivia handed him the phone from her pocket.
"Something wrong with it?"
Elliot shook his head as he set her phone to silent and on a do not disturb mode, then placed it on the desk with his.
"About before," he started and took a step closer to her again. She furrowed her brows. Elliot stood in front of her. "How's your ass feeling?" he grinned like he had a few days ago in the hospital.
"I won't be sitting on it anytime soon," she replied, a bit hesitantly.
"I heard that shot…" He reached for her and placed his palm on her waist again, not on her injured side. "I thought I'd lost you."
"I can't imagine what that brings up for you," she said the same line, third time in the span of few days. She was preparing herself for him to bring up Kathy, almost ready to recoil from him.
"I thought about the time we worked with your FBI friend – Dean Porter. Remember the case?"
She nodded.
"The airport. I remembered seeing you being held with a gun to your head, I heard a shot and then both of you went down." He paused and moved his other hand to her waist, he was gentle, he didn't coax her closer, but she took a step forward nevertheless, their bodies almost touching. "I was scared. I heard the shot, and I thought I had lost you."
Olivia took a deep breath and placed her palm on his shoulder like she had in the hospital. Then she stepped into him and pressed herself against his chest in a hug. He buried his nose in her hair, reminding himself that she was okay.
He wrapped his arms around her, he felt her relax against him.
"I don't ever wanna lose you," he whispered.
He pressed his cheek against hers, his eyes closed. His palm started to draw circles on her back, which was soothing and slightly romantic at the same time.
She moved her other hand to wrap around his neck and cup the back of his bald head.
He moved his head just enough that he could press his lips against her cheek. She was so damn intoxicating; she was a vision and she was so soft and delicious pressed against him. Oh, how could he be asked to let go of her again?
"Liv?" he whispered, the question dying on his lips. He pressed his palm on her lower back, guiding her closer. Oh, he really wanted her – he needed her.
"Yeah."
For a minute he wasn't sure if she was answering the question he didn't quite ask and grant him permission or if she was asking him to elaborate.
But then she moved her palm from his shoulder to his cheek and her head to face him.
She was looking at him with those eyes again, she was so gorgeous and he had was tempted to lean into her and kiss her soft lips like they've never been kissed before,
She offered him a smile – like she had in the hospital – and leaned in. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. He met her on the way as their lips touched for the first time. It was everything he'd dreamt of, and then some. His palm found her upper back and guided her closer to him while his lips discovered hers. He was scared to breathe for he didn't want any disturbances that could make her retreat like she did the last time they were in her kitchen.
But then her lips parted and before he realized what was happening his tongue was in her mouth. Without thinking he moved his palm lower to caress her ass. She hissed loudly into his mouth. Elliot retreated immediately and cursed loudly for forgetting about her injury and causing her pain in the moment where he was feeling quite ecstatic. Bad move Stabler.
" 'm sorry. You okay?"
"Yeah." She replied and then her lips were on his again. She caressed his cheek with her thumb as if she was attempting to soothe him. It worked. As she wrapped her other hand around his neck, he knew this was real and this was forever. And his brain was struggling to function properly, but two thoughts remined in his mind – she got shot in her left hip and he wanted her.
His lips moved to her neck, licking the skin and kissing every inch he could reach. She smelt like a mixture of hospital antiseptic and disinfectant.
She moaned, her hand finding the back of his head and guiding him on.
"Liv, you're so gorgeous," he whispered into her neck. He didn't mean to say it out loud, but now the words are out.
"So are you," she replied with a kiss against the side of his head.
He kept one of his palms on her lower back, while the other travelled up in the small space between them until he found her left breast. It was too big for his palm and so soft and so fucking incredible. His cock twitched in his pants, completely forgotten until the moment he felt himself grow hard in anticipation. He groaned.
"Can we?" he asked between kissing her neck and kneading her left breast.
"You heard the doctor – only if you do all of the work," she replied, her breath hitching as he discovered a sensitive spot on her neck.
"Was planning on doing it anyway, Captain," he replied with a smirk. He kissed her lips again. It felt so good.
He picked her up with every intention of manhandling her to the bed and crawling over her, but that would have to wait until she was healed and he didn't run the risk of replacing pleasure by injury and an visit to the ER. There would come a day when he could do just that, and she would hopefully enjoy every minute of it. They had time.
He chose to sit on the bed instead with her and then lie down pulling her down with him.
"That good for you?" he asked.
"Yeah," she replied. She was pushing his shirt up, he lifted his back from the bed to assist her and felt suddenly thankful he had decided to hit his abs workouts over the past years. He pushed up her shirt next until she threw that away.
"Liv…" he gasped, she took his breath away like he always knew she would.
She shut him up by kissing him. He knew right there and then that he couldn't go back anymore. It was everything with her or nothing at all. There is no middle ground. There never was.
He saw the bandages above her left hipbone, there was some angry red bruising poking out from underneath the bandages, contrasting her tanned skin. He moved his palm to cover the bandage and gently moved his thumb over it as if he was trying to remember how close he came to losing her. He couldn't lose her now.
"I'll let you know if it becomes too much," she assured him, reading his mind and giving him answers long before he could ask for them.
Elliot didn't need more. He found her lips again, his palms kneading her breasts through her black bra and his penis standing in attention confined in his pants, but fairly obvious in poking her thigh. There was no hiding his arousal.
His right hand left her breast to slide lower, through the waistband of her sweats, pushed her panties aside – she'd picked one of the plain bikinis he saw before – and ran his fingers over her folds. She was wet.
"El," she whined.
He couldn't have that. She couldn't be whining specially if he had what she was looking for – what she needed.
He scooted himself down on the bed until he could kiss her in between her legs, which he did just because he could.
"Tap my shoulder if you want me to stop," he instructed her before going all in with his tongue and testing the knowledge spread over the articles he had been reading as of late for preparation of this moment. It felt so much better than he could imagine.
For the first time in 25 years they fell asleep together, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her body, her chest against his, his face in her hair, her leg thrown over his, whisper of proclamation of love hanging over them.
Next morning they packed their things and flew back to NY hand in hand.
Xx
He woke with a startle. Something must've woken him. He looked around – the bedroom was dark and quiet, his phone was silent, so was hers. The red numbers on his alarm clock read 3:06 am.
Everything seemed to be like it should.
Except for one thing – there was no gorgeous police Captain in his arms. She had drifted off to the other side of the bed with her back towards him. Now, that wouldn't do. In fact that was probably what had woken him up – at least that's what he was going with.
Gone were the days where she could have the whole bed to herself and pick different side to sleep in every second night, in these days her rightful place during the night was in his arms against his chest. He didn't have much of preferences – some night he needed her sleeping next to him chest to chest, her head on his shoulder and his arm draped over her back; other nights it was her back pressed against his chest or sometimes she just fell asleep on top of him and he had no complaints. On a very rare occasion she would spoon him from behind and wrap her arm around his waist instead. It felt good to be the little spoon, but most nights Elliot needed to be the protector, he needed his body to be the barricade between her and the outside world. He was her partner, her protector – he'd always be that.
So he scooted himself on the bed until he could reach her. He didn't quite manhandle her, but he wasn't too gentle with her either – it was entirely her fault for slipping away. He knew she would fall back asleep once his arms were around her. She groaned, when he turned her limp body around and then pulled her against his chest.
"El, what are you doing?" she asked through sleep.
"Looking for you, babe. I miss your warmth," he spoke and kissed her temple.
Maybe sometime in the future there would be a night, where he wouldn't wake up alone and have to go looking for her on the other side of the bed. But then again it was ways better than sleeping with the Atlantic Ocean between them.
"I'm not gonna have sex with you now. You are on your own, buddy," she said without opening her eyes, but she settled further into him. Her head found the crook of his shoulder and that's where she buried her face after lazily kissing his neck.
Elliot chuckled. True, he had woken her up in the middle of the night for sex a few times – she was always satisfied by the time he was done with her. That too was her fault, because most often he would have a dream of her, wake up sometime during a very good dream with a raging boner and he didn't have to put himself through a cold shower anymore, he could find relief with the woman sleeping right next to him. He made sure to always deliver plenty when he woke her up like that.
"Maybe in the morning if we can get up 15 minutes before the alarm," she added and snuggled further into him.
He smiled. He liked to start his day with orgasm. It's probably the best way to start a day anyway.
"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he replied and kissed the top of her head.
His palm moved over her shirt, snuck underneath to feel the rough patch of scars on her left hip. Whereas he didn't like any of the scars on her body – her skin was never supposed to be cut open and marked by the worst of criminals – he often would look for the scar on her hip, the scar left by a bullet, which in a way brought them together. The small scar on her neck from a knife almost tore them apart almost a lifetime before.
He was overwhelmed by emotions. He kissed the top of her head and then he pressed his lips into her hair again. His arm moving to her back and pulling her body flush against his. He didn't ever wanna let her go. He grasped the T-shirt she had pulled on before, it's the same one he snuck into her bag with her toiletries, when she was in urgent care center somewhere in Ohio. She put it on that first night and never returned it to him.
"I love you Olivia, I love you so much," he whispered into the night.
She must've heard it for she moved her arm around him, let it loosely hang against his back and kissed his shoulder.
"I love you too," she whispered groggily.
And just like that, everything was right again.