March 29, 2016
"They letting you out any time soon?" Olivia asked, shuffling through the papers on her desk and trying to pretend like this was normal, when the truth was it felt anything but. The months they'd spent together in Omaha had been colored by terror, by rage and regret and grief, their every conversation heavy with the knowledge that they were doomed, and now she was sitting in her office on a bright Tuesday afternoon, visibly pregnant and just a little nauseous, talking to Elliot about his plans with nothing to fear but her own reckless heart.
This is going to take some getting used to, she thought.
She wanted to, though. She wanted to get used to this.
"Yeah, they said I can go home today," Elliot told her, and she could hear the relief in his voice. He'd always hated hospitals and she knew he'd be glad to be walking out in the world once more.
"I'm gonna be riding a desk for the next few months," he continued, "and Bell's making me take the rest of the week off."
"Smart woman," Olivia murmured. As much as she loved him - and she knew she did, love him, whether she'd told him so or not - she had to admit that Elliot was one of the stubbornest men she'd ever known, and getting him to actually stop and rest was a difficult task. It would take an order from his boss to do it, but even then if Olivia had been a betting woman she'd lay odds that Elliot would find his way back to OCCB before the week was through. He couldn't help himself. He loved the work, and he was the sort of man who needed something to do, who'd never been any good at sitting idly by, and would be worse now than ever, now that he had nothing to go home to but an empty apartment and a weight bench he wasn't allowed to use.
"You - uh - you got anybody to look after you?" she asked, thinking about his empty apartment and his left arm in a sling. At least it wasn't his right arm, at least it wasn't his leg; he'd probably be able to manage all right on his own, but she didn't want him to have to manage. She'd been shot herself and remembered it well, the struggle getting in and out of her shirts, trying to shower, unable to pick up her own son. It would've been so much easier if only she'd had someone there to take care of her. She wanted Elliot to have someone to take care of him.
Really, she wanted to be the one to do it, but she wasn't sure how they'd make that work, and she didn't know how to ask. It wasn't like she could go stay at his place; she had Noah to think about, and Elliot's apartment was unlikely to be toddler-proof. The easiest thing to do would be to ask Elliot to come and stay with her, but wasn't that a little…insane? To go months not speaking to him, to promise him that she was willing to give their romantic relationship a try on Monday and ask him to move in on Tuesday? Maybe it was silly to worry about moving too fast when she'd known him for nearly twenty years and she was already pregnant with his baby, but she did worry about it. She didn't want to blow things up between them before they'd ever really gotten started.
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe. Depends on whether or not you open the door."
She looked up sharply, and found him smiling at her through the open blinds on her office door.
"You asshole," she admonished him, laughing, her heart rocketing up into her throat as she rose to her feet.
She hadn't expected this, hadn't thought for a second that he'd stop in at the 1-6 on his way home, but she was glad to see him, still. To see him standing on his own two feet, smiling, his blue eyes crinkling up softly as she opened the door for him. It felt like a novelty, that the sight of him should be cause for relief and not a portent of doom. Maybe he was right. Maybe things were changing for the better.
"You look good in here," he told her as he stepped into her office. "The big chair suits you."
"Thanks," she said.
He closed the door behind him and she turned away, intent on making her way back to that chair, but he caught up to her in the space of a heartbeat, his good arm winding around her at once. His right hand slid easily, possessively beneath her blouse while his mouth seared a trail of fire along the line of her neck. The sudden fervor of his affections short-circuited her rationality; the moment he touched her she shivered all over and went a bit weak in the knees, leaning back heavily into the warmth of his embrace. The blinds on the windows were already closed and they were no longer standing in full view of the door; she could pretend, for a moment, that they were alone, the only two people in the entire goddamn world, and she was grateful for that tiny bubble of privacy.
"You smell good," he growled, lips ghosting against the tender skin of her neck while still he cradled her belly close, the curve of her ass fitting into the hollow of his hips, and though she was not completely sure she could've sworn she could feel the hardness of his cock straining for her.
"Jesus," she breathed. "You don't waste any time, do you?"
"I'm done wasting time," he answered. "I know what I want."
He was also probably still at least a little buzzed on painkillers; there was no way, she thought, that a fully sober Elliot would've touched her like this in her office in the middle of a work day. The problem was she liked it, though. Liked the way it felt, the confidence of his desires, the strength in his hands, the reckless need that threatened to sweep them both away. This is how it feels, she thought, to be wanted. She'd spent her whole life dreaming about it, about being wanted, having a place to belong, a family, that one person who would stay and never leave, who would want her so desperately he ached with it.
Elliot ached for her, and she knew it. She could feel it, in the way he touched her, his rush to get his hands on her bare skin, in the tender way he held her and their baby both. She'd seen it yesterday, seen it in his eyes as he lay in that hospital bed, and she'd felt it in the torturous heat of his kiss. He ached for her.
And she ached for him.
"I want what's mine," he said in a low, hungry tone, and need licked up the length of her spine at the very thought of it. The thought that she was his, as he was hers, that he could lay claim to her now, that there was no obstacle left to stop them reaching for one another, the way they'd always wanted to.
"Elliot," his name left her mouth on an unsteady sigh as he pulled her closer, ground against her ass so that this time she had no doubt at all that she could feel his hardness through his jeans, and the hand he'd kept low on her belly began to move, heading straight for the elastic waist of her trousers.
"I've missed you," he told her hoarsely, his hand following the curve of her body down, and down, sliding beneath her underwear, fingertips tracing gently through coarse curls.
The thing was, she'd missed him, too. Missed him desperately; wept with it, the missing. Alone in her apartment, unable to speak to him, feeling the changes in her body, watching her belly grow and knowing their baby was growing, too, she'd been lonesome and scared and missing him. They had created something beautiful together and she hadn't wanted him to miss a single second of it, but he had missed so much already. They would never get back the time they'd lost, the four years they'd spent apart, the last four months; they'd sacrificed so much already, and she was through with making sacrifices. He was right, she thought; she was done wasting time.
But as much as she might have liked it, as much as the idea of him bending her over her desk and taking her right here left her wet and hungry for him, she knew they could not cross this line now. Not here, in her office, with the blinds still up on the door. She'd missed him, she wanted him, she was through with running, but she could not afford to lose her head completely.
"Not here," she gasped even as his thumb found the nub of her clit and her entire body trembled in response. She cast her head back on his shoulder and he tilted his chin, captured her lips in a heated kiss, thumbed at her clit and growled when she nipped at his bottom lip.
"I know," he said, though he made no attempt to remove his hand from her underwear. Damn him, she thought; he never made things easy for her. Not that there was anything particularly easy about her, either, but still. It was hard to remember all the reasons why they shouldn't take this risk when he was already touching her, when she was already wet and eager for him, when she'd gone months without his touch and was finally allowed a moment to glory in it.
"You got any plans tonight?" his lips caught against hers as he spoke, unwilling to break their kiss completely, and she swallowed his words down hungrily.
"No," she said. "Come home with me?"
So much for taking things slow. Elliot was right, she thought. Right to move forward without hesitation, right to cast aside any doubt and simply grab hold of the desires of his heart. She wanted to do the same. She wanted to be brave, like him. She wanted him, just as he was, stubborn and impatient, tender and sweet, angry and impulsive; she wanted him, all of him, in her arms, in her bed, in her life. She didn't want to miss him, anymore.
"Yeah?" he asked pulling back just a little, just enough so he could look into her eyes, his hand still frozen, fingertips resting against her tender sex.
"Yeah," she said firmly, with conviction. "Someone's gotta take care of you, Stabler," she added, grinning.
"You gonna be my nurse?" he fired back, grinning.
"Ass," she chided him fondly. "I'm not wearing one of those stupid outfits for you."
"I don't want you wearing anything at all," he murmured, his eyes dropping to stare hungrily at her mouth while still his fingers worked gently against her, circling the sensitive opening of her sex while her legs threatened to give way beneath her.
Christ, she might just let him have her right now; the heat of his gaze, the fire in his touch, made it hard to think. He leaned back in, eyes slipping closed as if he intended to kiss her again, and she was gonna let him, until a pounding on the door made them spring apart like started rabbits, Olivia rushing to right her clothes while Elliot turned his back on the door in an effort to hide the evidence of his erection straining at the tight fabric of his jeans.
"Come in!" Olivia called, grateful for the interruption and cursing it just the same. Maybe this was for the best, this reminder of where they were and the precarious nature of their circumstances, stopping them before they'd gone too far, but she missed the sensation of his hand on her skin just the same.
"Hey," Fin called as he opened the door, a question in his eyes and a grin tugging up the corner of his mouth. If he'd peered through the glass of the door before he knocked he wouldn't have seen much, just Elliot's broad back and Olivia leaning heavily against him, but that would've been enough to tell Fin everything he needed to know. The Sergeant had always been an observant man, and he knew Elliot and Olivia better than anyone else alive.
"Rollins just called in, suspect shot himself. There's gonna be a hell of a lot of paperwork, but it looks like her case just closed."
That was good news, Olivia thought; the team was never without work to do, but some work was more urgent than others, and the most immediate of her concerns had just effectively neutralized itself.
"Thanks, Fin," she told him earnestly.
"So, I was thinking," he continued, his eyes sparkling with something like mischief. "If you wanted to cut out early…."
In that moment she was so grateful for Fin she could've kissed him. It was a gamble, on his part; Fin knew that Elliot was the father of her baby, and Fin knew that she'd been reticent to tell him, and Fin knew there was every chance that this meeting between Elliot and Olivia had not been a happy one. Fin was taking a risk, betting that what Olivia needed now was more time with Elliot, not an excuse to leave him. He was a good friend, she thought, willing to take command of the squad for the afternoon just to give her the opportunity to try to put her family back together.
"Yeah," she said carefully, trying not to look too relieved at the chance to run. "I think I'm gonna take the afternoon off."
"Sounds good," Fin told her, his eyes dancing towards Elliot's back, wondering. "I'll call you if anything catches on fire."
"Thanks," she said again.
"Enjoy your night, Liv," Fin said, and then he disappeared, and the moment the door closed Elliot stepped up once more behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder.
"He's a good man," Elliot mused, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
"You're just saying that because you want to get in my pants," she teased him lightly.
"Yeah," he said. "I really do."
She laughed, and he reached for her hand, tangled their fingers together as she turned around to face him.
"Let's go home, Olivia," he said.
And so they did.