Elliot pulled into his regular parking spot, and sighed. He glanced at the dash, 3AM. Damn. He leaned into the steering wheel, mentally preparing himself to enter his own apartment. It didn't feel like his right now. The space had been completely taken over by his beautiful mother and his asshole brother. He reminded himself that it was early, and everyone would still be asleep. He should have time to rest his achy bones before dealing with the chaos.
He rolled his neck between his shoulders. He was getting too old for this shit. There had to be a way to do his work without getting blown up.
With one more stretch he reached for the door handle, only to have the shit scared out of him when Tandall flung the passenger side door open.
"Damn it Randy!"
"What?" He asked as he slid into the seat. He shrugged. "You scared the hell out of Momma. Do you even know what time it is?"
Elliot rolled his eyes, and leaned back into his seat, wincing when his shoulder made contact.
"You look like hell. What happened to you?" Randall asked gruffly.
"Got blown up."
"Huh," he huffed noncommittally.
Elliot resisted the impulse to roll his eyes at his brother's disinterest. Just as Elliot reached for the door handle, Randall caught him off guard.
"Met your partner tonight." The way he accentuated the word "partner " oozed with insidious insinuation.
Elliot's head whipped around. "What?" The word escaped through clenched teeth.
Randall let out a low whistle. "I always thought Kathy was overreacting about your partner. I mean, I think we all sort of imagined a heavily muscled troll, but damn, I definitely see why everyone thought you were banging her."
Elliot's jaw clenched and unclenched. He reminded himself that he had been thrown across the room by an explosion earlier that day, and punching his brother wouldn't help his aching shoulders.
Randall just kept on talking. "And I can't believe you managed to keep the kid a secret for so long, although I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I'm sure Dad has a few bastard kids we don't know about." He shook his head and chuckled. "Guess you are exactly like our old man after all."
He felt his temperature rising. He couldn't clock his brother. Not right now. It would probably hurt him more than Randall anyway. Instead he shoved the door open and stomped his way towards his building. He felt Randall fall in step behind him, and Elliot purposefully faced away. He wasn't sure he could keep his temper under control if he caught a glimpse of Randall's infuriating grin.
He jammed his keys into the already unlocked door and pushed it open. Luckily Randall had the good sense to keep his big mouth shut. Elliot internally cursed the time. He needed to see Liv. Randall probably took the opportunity to stir the pot, and Elliot itched to do damage control. A few hours. Damage control could wait for a few hours.
-000-
Olivia decided not to call Elliot in the morning. He clearly had his hands full with a case and whatever family drama was going down at his place. She could wait. Things could be put on hold…again. She stubbornly pushed away the frustration screaming inside her. Would they ever get this right?
Her squad room was relatively quiet when she pushed through the doors. Bruno and Velasco chatted quietly in the corner while Fin kicked back in his chair and played on his phone.
As she passed Fin's desk he tilted his head toward her office. Without looking up from his phone, he warned, "Your favorite dumb ass detective is sleepin' on your office couch."
His words stopped her in her tracks. "Wait, Elliot?"
"The one and only," Fin confirmed.
Her eyes drifted to her office. The door was still firmly shut, and blinds drawn.
As if sensing her next question, Fin tossed his phone onto the desk and leaned forward. "I let him in earlier. Looked like hell."
Olivia swallowed her sudden onset of nerves and nodded. "Thanks."
"He looks pretty banged up," Fin watched her for a reaction, but she managed to keep her expression neutral.
Elliot always looked rough when he worked a case, but Fin's next words effectively freaked her out. "He and Bell had a close call with an incendiary device." His eyes held hers seriously.
A bomb. She resisted the urge to yell 'seriously!?' Towards the sky. Elliot would be the death of her. She was certain. "Thanks Fin," she spit out before hurrying towards her office door.
Her stomach turned. He was obviously going to be banged up, but okay enough physically. After all, he got himself to her office. She was less worried about his injuries and more worried about the explosion triggering another round of PTSD. She couldn't watch him go through that again.
She turned the doorknob and stepped into her darkened quiet office. She glanced to the left, and sure enough Elliot's familiar form laid sound asleep on her couch.
She leaned against the now shut door, and observed him quietly. He didn't look too bad. Something told her that it could have been much worse. From where she stood she could see a couple face lacerations, nothing too major. A large bruise appeared to be developing on his cheek bone.
She sighed and approached the side of her couch. His bulky frame filled the couch and he laid on his back with his arms crossed. She laid a soft hand on his arm. "El?"
His brow furrowed, but his eyes remained shut. She smiled to herself and nudged him a little more firmly. "Elliot, you can't crash on my couch all day."
He shifted with a groan before quickly sitting up. The movement made him wince. "Sorry, I didn't notice I fell asleep…" he blinked a few times and pressed the heel of his hand against one of his eyes. "Heard you came by my place last night. I'm sorry I wasn't there, I."
She waved him off and took a seat next to him. "You were working."
He turned his face towards her. "Doesn't mean I wasn't sorry I missed you." He groaned lightly, "And I left you with Randall."
She leaned back into the couch cushions. "Yeah…can't say he's my favorite person."
He mimicked her positioning, and rolled his head to the side tk focus on her. "If it makes you feel better, he's not my favorite person either."
A light laugh bubbled up from her chest. Funny how much happier she felt with him right next to her. Impulsively she lifted a hand to stroke the bruise on his cheek. "Are you okay?" She whispered, hoping he understood what she was really asking.
He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. "I'm okay," he reassured her. He opened his eyes and his blue eyes provided further affirmation. "I'm sore, but okay. Really."
She let her hand wander over his face, like a blind woman trying to memorize his every feature. Her heart skipped when she let her fingers glide over his facial hair. She heard his breath catch when her fingers drifted over his lower lip.
There were so many things she wanted to say, so many things she wanted to talk about, but she could only hear the incessant pounding of her racing heart. Her voice quivered when she whispered, "I missed you."
"I missed you too Liv."
Her heart and soul felt exhausted from constantly fighting against the truth she carried in her heart. Her thum brushed over his lower lip. Twenty five years. Twenty five years of standing on the sideline, wanting. She had long ago convinced herself that she was some sort of wicked for wanting a married man in the way she wanted Elliot. The past three years had been defined by her broken trust, but that wasn't the only thing holding her back. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she didn't think she deserved him. She punished herself for her longing, and her unfaltering want. She was tired of denying the incomprehensible bond she felt with the man she watching her face.
After another moment of hesitation she decided to let it all go. She let go of the hurt, the want, and the pain that haunted her for the past two decades. She was done pushing away the one person she ever wanted.
Without much preamble she cupped her hand to her cheek and leaned forward, kissing him softly. She could feel him holding his breath, as if his exhale would break whatever magic had woven itself into this moment. He seemed frozen, unable to comprehend the step she just took. He leaned in once more, and pressed her lips more firmly against his. Her hand drifted to the back of his head, and he suddenly came alive.
He returned her kiss with a devoted sort of fervor she had never experienced. It was a promise, a reassurance, of his loyalty and love.
The slow lip play quickly heated when his tongue swept against her bottom lip. She eagerly opened her mouth, letting him slide his tongue over hers. The sensation stoked the ever present low simmering fire, and she pressed herself more firmly against him.
He matched her intensitkng, hands gripping her hips. He lifted her slightly and she found herself eagerly straddling him on her office couch. She didn't care.
His hands slid up the back of her shirt, and she hummed at the feeling of his warm fingertips against her bare skin. Her hands began to wander, lifting his shirt. She lightly traced the pattern of his abdominal muscles before pressing deeper, causing a pained moan to escape his lips.
She pulled away in mild panic. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I forgot." She scampered of his lap, ignoring the frown that crossed his face.
He reached for her, "I tell you to move," he grumbled.
"You should have," her voice light. He had just gotten blown up for heavens sake. "I don't want to hurt you," she admitted
"I'll live," he quipped before pulling her back onto his lap. "I've waited for this too long. I'm not letting a little pain get in the way."
And maybe that's what she needed to lean into. The pain. Loving Elliot might hurt. It already had, but she was beginning to realize, whether or not they were together, she would love him. Loving him hurt, but if she was going to hurt, she wanted to feel the joy along side it. She might crash and burn, but she didn't care anymore. The pain might be tragic, but if she held on, the joy would be exquisite.