Chapter Text
PRESENT TIME:
The apartment is darker than it was when she’d gone in with Noah, she notes as she slowly creeps reward the kitchen. The last bits of waning daylight more muted due to the blinds being drawn. The overhead lights in the living room and dining room now darkened, as well, replaced with the more intimate glow from a couple lamps he’s turned on and adjusted to a softer, less harsh setting.
This isn’t the first time Elliot’s been here, nor the second or the third. He’s been allowed into her sanctuary four times now (not counting the “unofficial” first time when he’d arrived on her doorstep high as a kite) to spend time with her and to get to know Noah better. Enough times that her doormen know who he is and have her permission to let him pass through without checking in with her first. Enough that he’s learned which cupboards and drawers house the bare essential kitchen items. And apparently, she realizes, enough to know how she prefers her apartment to be lit in the evening after a long day of work.
He’s been paying attention. She thinks, smiling to herself as she approaches the entryway to the kitchen. She stops just before making her presence known and leans against the wall, listening to him as he hums along to Tom Petty as the water from the faucet drains provides a steady cadence of white noise.
As she stands there in the shadows of her darkened hallway, listening to him clean, she feels the blossoming swell in her chest expand as she reflects on the evening.
He’d gone out of his way to prioritize her tonight. To put her first.
And it’s not just tonight, either. Over the last five weeks, she thinks about how he’s really been pulling his weight in this. He’s making an effort to see her in person at least a couple times a week, and talking (or at least texting) every day, keeping the lines of communication open between them. He’s made a point especially this last week to vocalize how willing and available he is to talk whenever she wants, no matter the hour, as they’ve begun to dig deeper into the wound that was his abrupt departure more in-depth. Carefully navigating the painful emotions and the hurt that’s been burrowed beneath the surface for the last eleven years, they’re slowly attempting to draw everything to the surface with the intention of getting it all aired out so that they can heal and move on and move forward.
And Noah.
Elliot’s been nothing short of amazing over the last five weeks with Noah, as well. She’d said not too long ago that her son gets attached easily, and Elliot was definitely no exception. Every time he’s heard the unmistakable, now familiar knock on the door, Olivia’s watched as Noah leapt up and ran to answer, animatedly engaging with her former partner from the moment the door swung open. The two of them have traded a thousand questions back and forth, Elliot’s usually focusing on learning more about Noah as a person (his passions, likes and dislikes), and Noah fascinated with learning more about Elliot’s kids and grandkids, and also curious to learn about what Olivia was like before he was in the picture. At least once every visit, she’s observed her son being completely captivated by the older man’s stories from back when they were partners.
It’s early, but she can tell there’s a deeper bond forming between the two of them. So much so that the last time Elliot was here, Noah had asked the two of them out of the blue if he could program Elliot’s number into his phone
“It’s just in case I need an adult and I can’t get ahold of you or Fin, mom.” He’d reasoned at the time.
She and Elliot had looked at one another, both slightly stunned (and for her, maybe the slightest bit emotional) at her son’s request, because she knows that the reason he gets attached easily is because he can read people in a heartbeat, and is extremely adept in figuring out who he can and cannot trust in a very short amount of time.
Ever since he’s been back in her life, Olivia has repeatedly told herself that a major reason why she’d been holding back in exploring this thing with Elliot because she didn’t want Noah to get hurt in the process if it didn’t work out between them. But as she’s watched the two of them together in recent weeks, she’s come to the realization that while it was very much true, it wasn’t the whole truth.
That there had been a part of her that also had been afraid that Noah would spend time with Elliot and not like him, which would’ve devastated her. Because as much as she and Elliot wanted this, her son (and “Team Benson”) would always come first. So when that request from her son to be able to have direct contact with Elliot came to be, she’d felt as though a weight was being lifted off her shoulders.
Like they’d cleared a major hurdle because her son trusted Elliot Stabler.
Although it probably doesn’t hurt that Elliot’s gone out of his way to spoil the kid a little bit every time he comes over in order to score some extra brownie points. Like when he surprised Noah’s with a pint of his favorite ice cream on his last visit. Or when he let him win when they’d played cards or a video game while she’d cooked dinner (even though she’s fairly confident that the video game loss was not so much letting Noah win, but more so due to Elliot’s lack of skill when handling the game controller).
She remembers thinking at the time, as she watched them, sitting side-by-side on the couch, exchanging lighthearted banter, engrossed in the action on the TV screen, how easy this felt. The three of them slipping into this new…thing. This level of domesticity that she’d not yet experienced to this degree in her life.
It’s frankly a bit overwhelming, if she’s being honest with herself. And there’s that nasty, picky, stubborn part of her mind that’s telling her it isn’t going to last. That’s Elliot’s going to hurt her again, and that she’d be better off cutting her losses and running in order to protect herself and her son.
But then there’s those other moments, where he’s utterly surprised her, left her speechless.
Like tonight, when she and Noah had rounded the corner to discover him camped out at her doorstep.
—————————————————————
EARLIER THAT EVENING:
The elevator dings as the doors open, and the two of them step off the car. Noah’s several steps ahead of her, practicing a new combo he learned earlier at dance camp down the hallway. He’s animatedly chattering away in the process, asking her about what they’re going to do for dinner now that the original plans have changed and he’s not going to be spending the evening with Fin and Phoebe. She trudges behind him, exhausted, more than ready to shut out work (and the world) for the rest of the night. Her eyes, heavy with fatigue, are glued to the screen of her phone as she lists off the various options for takeout.
She so focused on the screen that she doesn’t see her son has stopped dead in his tracks and nearly runs into him.
“Noah…” She exclaims, her eyes shifting from her screen to look down at the crown of her son’s head. “What…”
“Hi, Elliot!” Noah calls out as he catapult a forward again, bolting away from her toward their front door.
Her eyes follow Noah’s movement and her mouth drops in surprise as she takes in the the sight of Elliot, dressed in one of his well-cut suits as he sits on the ground next to her front door. His legs extend out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His hands are folded neatly in his lap and his head is tilted back to rest against the wall. His eyes had been closed, as though in a state of meditation while he’d been waiting, but at the sound of her son’s voice they’ve opened and his neck twists and cranes upward to look toward the rapidly approaching figure, his lips lifting upward in a small grin.
“Hey, bud.” Elliot greets as he moves to stand, holding out a fist for Noah to bump in greeting. “How ya been?”
“Good.” Noah responds as he returns the bump. “What are you doing here?”
Elliot pushes from his knees to a standing position, shaking his limbs slightly in an attempt to encourage blood flow as he casually shrugs one shoulder while towering over Noah’s smaller form. “Well, Eli’s having dinner at a friends house tonight, and my mom is spending the evening with Kathleen…” He begins to explain before gesturing at the bag on the ground. “And I had all this food that was gonna go to waste if I didn’t use it. Plus, I wanted to see you guys and hear about how dance camp has been going.” His eyes flit up to meet hers briefly before focusing his attention back on the boy in front of him.
It was fleeting, but in that brief moment, she saw it. The apprehension, the worry that he’d crossed a line by showing up here unannounced. Especially after she’d declined this very scenario when they’d talked on the phone earlier, when he’d offered to come over and make dinner for the three of them after she’d postponed their existing plans. At the time her head had been pounding and the thought of having to entertain company after work was unappealing (even if it was just Elliot). But now she stands there, staring at him, her phone in one hand, her glasses in the other, and her bag dangling from the crook of her arm, thinking about what he’s really offering.
Because it’s not JUST him cooking a meal. It’s him taking responsibility off her shoulders and him carrying it for a short while. It’s allowing her the time and space to decompress way sooner than her original timeline (after she puts Noah to bed).
And it sounds like heaven, and she feels…well…she can’t quite point specifically what she’s feeling. A type of relief for sure. An alleviation, mixed with only the tiniest tinge of annoyance that he hadn’t listened to her, and…something else she can’t quite put her finger on at the moment. What she does know for sure is that she wants nothing more than to take those several strides over to him, throw her arms around his shoulders, burrow into the warmth of his embrace and never let go.
She won’t, though. At least, not in front of Noah, who is still unaware of the evolving relationship between his mother and her former partner.
“What’d you bring?” Noah asks as he sidesteps around the bigger man to peer into the contents of the bag.
“Well, my mom’s garden is bursting at the seams with basil right now, I thought I’d whip up a fresh batch of pesto sauce, cause your mom told me you like it.” Elliot responds, his lips lifting slightly as he watches Noah’s face brighten. “And some chicken and linguine noodles and stuff for salad. I even got some authentic Italian mozzarella so I can make some cheesy garlic bread.” He finishes.
Noah spins to face his mother. “Can we please have that, mom? That sounds WAY better than takeout.”
She glances between two sets of hopeful blue eyes, one set pleading for the proposed meal, and one set pleading to be granted access into her life tonight.
She twists her hands upwards in surrender as she shrugs her shoulders. “Well, if it’s only going to go to waste, I don’t see why not.” She responds, grinning at her son’s look of elation before continuing. “Noah…since he’s cooking for us, why don’t you help Elliot with the bag?” She gestures with her phone toward the ground next to her son as she starts moving, reaching into her pocket for her keys as she walks toward them.
As Noah turns and bends to pick up the bag, their eyes meet.
“Hey.” He greets softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smirks at her, the relief and elation clearly written on his face.
“Hey.” She greets back, feeling her own lips tugging upward as she slowly walks toward him.
They share a goofy grin before she turns, unlocks and opens the door. Noah darts ahead of the two of them, arms loaded with the bag, pausing only briefly to kick off his shoes before moving toward the kitchen.
She tilts her head in his direction, her voice quiet as she softly says. “Thank you.”
He matches her volume as he responds while stepping behind her. “Thank you for not being mad.”
Elliot casts a quick glance over her shoulder, making sure Noah’s back is facing them completely before reaching out. His hand falls to where her neck meets her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze, his fingertips skirting just underneath the collar of her blouse, and she again feels that pull where his their skin makes contact, the buzzing, tingly feeling causing goosebumps to break out. It’s as though he knew right where the tension was coiled, and she wants nothing more than to have his other hand join the first and massage away the stress and tension that had accumulated throughout her day.
Maybe she’ll ask him if he’d be willing to do that later on.
Releasing the gentle pressure, his hand trails slowly downward, fingertips ghosting along either side of her spine before he settles the full span and warmth of his palm against her low back, the tips of his fingers curling ever so slightly around the crest of her hip.
Keeping a watchful eye on her son, seeing him round the corner to drop his bag off in his room, he sees the opportunity and takes it. Gently stepping further into her space, he leans forward and presses flush up against her. His hand creeps around her side, fingers gripping her waist ever so slightly to keep her braced in place as his head tips forward. “After you.” He rumbles lazily, the tip of his nose feathering ever so slightly behind the shell of her ear as his lips land right over that particular spot on her neck, all the while keeping his eyes glued to the open door to her sons room.
Screw the goosebumps.
She has a full-on body shiver at that move, beginning low in her core and radiating out toward her fingertips and her toes.
She inhales sharply at the unexpected (but certainly not unwelcome) contact, her words momentarily failing her. When she finds them, she cannot help that they tumble past her lips sounding suspiciously close to a moan. “Oh…you bastard.” She feels his lips curl against her skin in response. “You are aware that was a cheap shot, right?” She asks, referring to his actions only moments before. “Starting something that you can’t finish?”
“Mmmm…” He hums low against her skin before puckering his lips into her flesh once more. “Maybe.” He slowly drawls before leaning back. “But I’d bet my next paycheck that you’re feeling WAY more relaxed than you were about five minutes ago.”
He’s got her there.
Although she does find she’s slightly irked by the smugness that hears dripping in his tone. At a loss for a snappy comeback, she can only huff and shake her head as she finally moves, stepping away from him and crossing the threshold into the apartment. Elliot follows suit, stepping in to the apartment and closing the door behind them. He twists the padlock to secure it before grabbing at the lapels of his suit coat, peeling off the outer layer.
“And Liv…” He starts, waiting for her to acknowledge him before continuing. She’s already hung her bag on a hook of the coat rack and is in the process of stripping off her own blazer when she turns to look at him. His smirk is light, playful, and mischievous as he steps forward into her personal space once more as he continues in a low whisper. “Who says I was finished?”
—————————————————————
PRESENT TIME:
Even hours later, the memory of his voice, the tone he’d used when he’d spoken to her, the feel of his lips on her flesh…it still evokes a response, triggers her flesh to pucker.
Back when they’d been partners, she’d hear inklings of that voice once in a blue moon. Usually it came on when one of them was struggling with an aspect of the case they were working on, when something about it resonated a little too strongly or hit a little too close to home. When they’d let their guard down just a little bit and have one of their talks, cracking the door open a little bit more to let the other one in, allowing themselves to seek the little bit of solace in one another that was permissible, and to draw strength to keep moving forward. There was a softness in his tone when they’d had those talks, very similar to the one he’d use when he’d talk to children, but also something…more.
A tenderness, a level of intimacy that was private, reserved only for her ears.
And now they’ve crossed that line, she’s been drowning in that soft, rich timbre on a regular basis.
Except now there’s more to it.
A relaxed, smoky rumble that sounds as though it’s coming from deeper in his chest.
It’s huskier.
Seductive.
Much like his touch, it does things to her when it’s directed at her with certain…intentions.
And with that little stunt he’d pulled in the entryway earlier, any lingering questions or doubts she’d had about whether or not he was even aware of how much of an effect he had on her were completely obliterated.
But she honestly is not surprised, either.
After all, he is a detective.
And so is she (or at least, she used to be).
And since they began this, she’s definitely randomly looked over at him and see him…watching her, observing her.
Studying her with a certain...look on his face.
She’d first noticed it the night he’d come over to spend time here with her and Noah, several days after they’d crossed that line. All throughout the evening, she’d look over at him and catch him, studying her intently as she interacted with her son. It was a new experience, having his attention focused on her like that, and it had only served to increase her nerves and anxiety about what would happen after she’d put Noah to bed.
—————————————————————
JUNE 13TH:
He’s where she left him, sitting at the dining room table, looking down at his phone. He’s relaxed, leaning back in his seat, one arm hooked over the chairback with his legs stretched out under the table, crossed at the ankles. The only evidence that he’s moved at all is the the fact that he has a fresh bottle of beer in front of him and that her wine glass has been topped off.
It’s Monday evening, the first night they’ve spent time together since that night nearly a week ago.
“Everything ok?” She asks as she sits down in the chair adjacent to his, tucking one leg underneath her and crossing the other over it in his direction. She’s settles one hand around the base of her wine glass.
“Yeah.” He answers, his eyes cast downward as he types out a message on his screen. “Just checking in with Eli, making sure everything’s ok and that he’s keeping an eye on my mom until I get home.”
“If you need to head out, it’s fine...” She begins, focusing her gaze on her glass as she nervously begins twisting the stem between her fingers and watching the burgundy fluid swirl around at the movement. She’s suddenly nervous, unsure of how to proceed now that the buffer of distraction that was her son has gone to bed and it’s just the two of them, alone together. “The fact that we were able to make time for this on a night that Noah didn’t have dance class…”
“Liv…” He interrupts, his eyes lifting to look at her as he drops the phone on the table. “They’re fine.” He pushes the device away from him with his fingertips for emphasis as he adds. “And I want to be here with you.”
She lifts her gaze to meet his as she exhales a slightly shaky breath, feeling the flush of heat creep up her neck. “I’m sorry.” She murmurs. “I’m just…” She trails off. “It’s just…”
“I know.” He interrupts, understanding what’s she stumbling to say. That this whole thing feels weird. Foreign and unsettling. How do you navigate through the awkwardness of a first date when it’s with your best friend? “It’s ok. Im feeling that way, too.” He reassures.
She huffs out a sigh of relief. Of course he gets it, he knows her better than anyone.
She glances down briefly, deciding to change the topic, a small smile spreading on her face. “Noah told me he had a good time tonight.” She remarks, propping her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her open palm as she looks at him, watching as his lips lift, as well. “He really liked your stories about us, back in the day.” She recalls her sons words when she was tucking him in. “And you brought pizza AND cheesy garlic bread. You scored big points for that.” She adds, her smirk blossoming into a full grin.
Elliot chuckles as he nods. “Well, I appreciated the heads up on where his favorite pizza joint is, and his favorite foods.” His eyes are warm as his gaze softens. “He’s a fantastic kid, Liv”. He rumbles. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the tabletop as he extends one arm toward her.
His hand gently coaxes hers loose from her glass to settle and rest in his, and she again feels that increasingly familiar pull. That pulsing, buzzing sensation where their skin is connected.
“And I know you don’t need to hear this…” He adds as his thumb skates a slow, gentle path back and forth along hers. “But you…are a fantastic mom.” His eyes beam with pride as he regards her. “One of the best. Like I always knew you would be.” He pauses. “And I’m honored that you’re letting me get to know him. Thank you, Liv.”
She feels the sheen of moisture begin to well behind her eyelids, and she drops her gaze from his back to the wood grain on the table as the wave of emotion crests over her. She doesn’t know why, but his compliments about her as a parent still manage to hit her right in the solar plexus in a way that it never has with anyone else. Maybe because he’d been the only one she’d truly confided in, not only about her desires and to be a mother, but also about her fears. He’d been really the only person who had ever known that while she’d wanted it more than anything in the world, she was equally terrified at the prospect of beIng a mother, understanding better than anyone how her genetics and her upbringing led her to have serious doubts about her capabilities as a parent.
He’d never faltered in his beliefs, though.
She could hug him for it.
Then she remembers she can hug him now. And that thought fills her with a renewed giddy, charged energy.
She needs to move, needs to expend this feeling within her.
“Hang on one second.” She says as she stands, grabbing her phone and making her way around to the kitchen. She hits the button on a portable Bluetooth speaker that sits on the counter, then taps her phone screen several times before the sounds of a soft, jazzy composition begin wafting through the room. She sets her phone down on the counter and moves back in his direction, hitting the light switch for the overhead lights on the way. The space is instantly dimmed and softened, the only lighting coming from a single floor lamp in the corner of the living room as well as the light down the hall by Noah’s bedroom. As she closes in on where he’s remained sitting, his torso twisted around while watching her with piqued curiosity, Olivia tamps down the nerves in her belly as she extends her hand out to him, palm up.
“Dance with me.” She half-requests/half-commands as she smiles shyly. His eyes light up at her request as he accepts, dropping his hand into hers as he pushes himself to stand. She takes several steps backward and he moves with her, into the open space between the couch and the breakfast bar. As their joined hands stay connected, she stops, allowing him to step fully into her space. He wraps his other arm around her waist, his hand coming up to rest against her mid-back as her own arm comes up to hook around his shoulder.
They settle into the gentle swaying back and forth, both of them transported back to a night next to the water a little over a year earlier at Fin’s non-wedding. When he’d asked this very same request of her. And while she’d felt a zing at the initial thought of being in his on the dance floor, the actual experience of it was…well…stiff and slightly awkward, both of them not used to the sensation of touching like that, and too polite and respectful of one another bubbles to really enjoy the experience.
Certainly not the case now . She thinks, smirking as she closes her eyes, turning her face so that her forehead rests against his cheek. He follows her lead, tightening his hold and pulling her a little more firmly against him and turning his head slightly so that the corner of his lips rest against her brow. They’ve not touched one another since that night almost a week ago, when they’d shared that first kiss, and since then she’s been longing for the time when she’d be able to do so again. She’s barely had a full glass of wine, but the feel of him against her, with the freedom to touch and hold one another like this has her feeling that pleasant full-body buzz that comes with drunkenness. She sighs contentedly against him, feeling his lips quirk upward against the skin of her brow as he traces abstract patterns against her back.
“S’nice…” He mumbles against her skin, sounding a little drunk himself. She hums in response as they continue to slowly sway back and forth, the rhythm of their movements eventually lulling her into a semi-drowsy state.
Before they know it, the song is over, the slow, sultry tempo replaced by a more upbeat one as the next tune in the playlist draws them out of their hazy bubble. She tilts her head back ever so slightly to look up in his direction, seeing a lazy, relaxed grin that she knows matches her own reflected back at her. His gaze briefly fall to her lips before rising to meet hers again, clearly making his intentions known. She tilts her head back, bringing her lips the tiniest fraction closer to his, granting silent permission. He leans forward, brushes his lips over hers once, then twice, tentatively. But he quickly grows more bold, slanting his head, applying more pressure. Releasing her hand, he brings his up to cradle her face, his thumb stroking gently across her cheekbone as his lips meet hers.
But she can sense his restraint. How he’s holding himself back, allowing her to take the lead and control the progression of things. And while she appreciates the chivalry, it’s just not enough. She’d had a sip, and now she wants nothing more than to drown in him. The fingertips of her now-free hand trace a teasing patten down his chest before her palm curls and settles around his ribcage, gripping and pulling him into her as her tongue gives the barest of teasing strokes against his top lip before retreating. She smiles against his lips as she not only hears but also feels his quick intake of breath. She does it again, leaving no room for error in his mind that she’s enjoying this every bit as much as he is, and the repeated action is what finally kicks him into gear.
Oh, Finally! Is all she can think as the hand along her cheek shifts to comb through her waves, cradling her head in his palm, as he really applies himself to the task of kissing her. They stand there in the semi-darkness, the the hot air of their combined breath fanning against their cheeks as their lips collide again and again. Their fingers start digging in, beginning to grasp at fabric, seeking purchase on anything they can get. The vocalizations of their pleasure beginning to grow in both frequency and volume. She’s pretty sure that the sound of Elliot Stabler moaning into her mouth as they make out may now be her newest favorite sound in the world. It makes her wonder what other sounds he’ll make in the course of other… activities . That thought in tandem with the feel of him against her body, his scent enveloping her nostrils, his rough stubble creating a delicious friction against her skin hits her low in her core. That delicious ache beginning as a slow simmer between her legs, and she’s surprised at the speed which it slams into her.
She’s getting way ahead of herself, and as much as she doesn’t want to, she needs to start pumping the brakes before things get out of control. Before they get out of control. God forbid Noah should wake up and decide he needs to go to the bathroom or get a glass of water and catch them in something that they’re not ready to get into at this time. She brings her hands to his face, her palms resting on his cheeks as she slowly eases her pressure. Sensing her retreat, he stops immediately, the apology already set to tumble past his lips. He’s breathing harder, edging on panting, his eyes darkened and hooded, yet his expression holds a tinge of apprehension. “Hey…” She reassures, the hand around his shoulder drawing back to wrap around the nape of his neck, anchoring him close to her,. “It’s ok. Not saying no, I’m just…slowing it down a little…”
He freezes as he processes her words, his gaze searching her features before his lift lift in a slow, somewhat bashful grin “Ok.” He says. He takes a deep breath in and exhales shakily as he tries to find the right words. “That was…that felt really…”
“More than nice .” She teases, calling back to the word they’d used after their first kiss several days ago. Her smile grows as her hands fall from his face, one arm returning to its previous spot around his shoulders, the other hooking underneath his armpit, wanting to keep him close to her.
He chuckles before nodding. “Yeah.” He agrees. “Much…much…better…” He dips his head forward, gives her a quick peck. “Than nice .” He purrs the last two words against her lips before locking them in another searing kiss, swallowing her knowing snicker in the process. They break apart once more, and he regards her as he begins to comb his fingers through her tresses once, then twice, the tender sensation causing her eyelids to flutter ever so slightly. He cannot help himself, and drops his lips to hers in another brief kiss. When her eyes open again she finds that his expression is one of complete wonderment.
“You look so beautiful right now.” He says softly, the pad of his thumb tracing a gentle path along the slightly reddened fullness of her lower lip, over where he’d been nibbling not two minutes earlier. She feels a pang in her chest at his words, and at the raw openness she sees swirling within his eyes as he says them. Unprepared for that compliment, and she feel a wave of bashfulness wash over her and has to look away.
“Hey, I mean it.” He continues with conviction as he gently grasps her chin, guiding her head back up to look him in the eye. “You’ve always been a very beautiful woman, Olivia Benson. But right now…when you’re looking at me like that…after we just…” He stops, and she sees a slight sheen in his eyes. “ Mozzafiato .” He finishes.
Mozzafiato.
Breathtaking .
She is feels the tears gathering in her own eyes, at a complete loss for words, so she does the only thing she can think of. Pressing her hand into the nape of his neck, she pulls him to her, bringing his lips to hers once more, briefly. “ Grazi .” She whispers against his lips before settling her body against him, her head coming to rest against his as his hand curls back around to settle on her neck, cradling her into him. They stand in the semi-darkness, just holding one another, still gently swaying, albeit to a rhythm that is all their own.
“How long before you have to leave?” She quietly asks into the fabric of his henley after several minutes.
He looks over at the glowing numbers on the stove, checking the time. “Mmmm…maybe an hour, give or take.” He answers.
“Wanna watch some TV or something?” She asks as she pulls back slightly, tilting her chin up toward his face.
“Definitely would be up for something .” He responds, looking down at her slyly as the hand between her shoulder blades starts creeping a slow trail along the ridges of her spine toward her lower back, his eyes darkening a shade.
It’s all she can do not to shiver in response to her touch, “An alluring idea.” She begins. “But with Noah…I feel as though we’ve already tempted fate enough for tonight, and…” She hesitates, her eyes trailing from his face to just beyond his shoulder.
He follows, tilting his head and chasing her gaze with his to maintain eye contact. “And?” He asks, pressing her to continue.
“And…” She tries again. “And tonight’s already been…a lot to take in and process.” She confesses as she looks back at him. She sees his face fall the slightest and quickly adds. “Not in a bad way”. Squeezing her arms around him a little tighter, she attempting to reassure him nonverbally while simultaneously attempting to clarify. “I just don’t want us to get…too far ahead of ourselves too quickly, you know?”
He does.
They still have a lot to talk about, to talk through, and while it’s nice to know that early on there is a definite physical compatibility between them, they cannot get too lost in that before they’ve had a chance to start
He nods in understand, before leaning in so that his lips coming to rest against her brow. “I get it.” He reassures softly against her skin. “We’ll go slow.” He adds, sealing that promise with a kiss against her temple.
She inhales deeply in relief as she steps back. Taking his hand in hers once more, she pulls him around to the front of the couch, picking up the remote before settling in the cushions. He follows and sits beside her, closer than he’s ever allowed himself to before but still maintaining a respectable amount of distance, his arm draping across the back of the couch behind her as she lists of different choices.
They settle on an old movie from the 80s, something cheesy that they can still talk over and through, trading commentary and critiques on the cheesy plot and dialogue. She reveals the crush she had on the on the leading actor at the time the movie was released, when he’d been the latest teen heartthrob. They’ve been watching for about 15 minutes when he gets up, walks over to the table to retrieve their discarded drinks before returning, handing her the glass of wine before settling on the couch again. She cannot help but notice he’s inched a little closer to her this time.
And then she feels it.
His arm shifting, moving the tiniest bit closer on the cushion toward her, around her, his fingertips grazing gently back and forth along the outside of her shoulder where it meets her upper arm.
Mentally rolling her eyes at his somewhat cliché move, she feels the corner of lip turning up slightly, and chances a peak out of the corner of her eye. She sees that his gaze is still focused on the screen in front of them as he takes a pull from the beer bottle he holds in his other hand, but she can sense that he’s not paying attention whatsoever to the plot anymore. Like his attention is trained on gauging her response, whether she’s comfortable with this or not.
When she senses that he’s possibly reconsidering his decision, like he’s preparing to pull his arm back, she moves.
Literally.
She turns, shifting her body toward his, inching the tiniest bit closer to his side as she tucks one leg underneath her so that the outside of her knee rests against the outside of his thigh. At the same time, she drops the weight of her head back, effectively trapping and pinning his arm between it and the cushion behind them.
He freezes at first, unprepared for the change in positioning. She can feel his eyes on her, but she plays dumb, choosing to keep her eyes on the tv this time, waiting to see what his next move will be. She’s close enough that she can feel when he relaxes into things, the weight of his arm pressing more fully around her as he resumes stroking, this time with more confident pressure.
They continue to watch, the commentary between them slowly quieting as they bask in the sensation of being like this with one another. He eventually begins exploring with his fingers as he feels her relax more into him, the light back and forth motion eventually growing into more broad strokes, trailing down her upper back along the ridges of her spine, trailing up toward her head to occasionally run his fingers through her hair.
When his fingers graze a particular spot along the corded muscles behind her ear, she holds her breath. When he hits it on a second pass, she inhales sharply through her nose. On the third pass, she shivers and immediately feels a heated flush follow in its wake.
He found the spot.
She’d been hoping that it wouldn’t have an effect by just a simple touch, but…c’mon.
It’s Elliot Stabler.
She feels his questioning gaze and chances a glance at him, feeling the heat that has crept up her neck and toward her ears, a heat that quickly transformed from early tendrils of pleasure to one of slight embarrassment in record time.
“My neck is ticklish.” She offers as a cover explanation, slightly shocked about how little effort it took for him to evoke that reaction and response from her.
She watches as his expression shift in front of her eyes, morphing into something that seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on where she’d seen it before. It disappears almost as quickly as it appears, though, and he gives a muttered apology as his hand moves back toward her shoulder. “Sorry.”
“S’ok.” She replies as she focuses her gaze back on the tv.
Eventually, the movie is over, and he reluctantly starts a slow shuffle toward the door, her following behind him. The night is ending too soon for either of their liking, but he had his family to tend to, and they both needed to report for work the following morning. She watches as he shrugs on his jacket before turning to face her. They share a nervous chuckle as their eyes meet, both of them suddenly very bashful. after a brief hesitation, she takes several steps forward. Seeing her approach his arms being moving, lifting up to fold her into him, tucking her in against him. Hers sneak their way under his armpits, curling up his back so that her hands hook onto his broad muscles of his shoulders.
“Thank you for tonight.” He says against her temple. “I had a good time.”
She grins against the fabric of his jacket. “I had a good time, too.” She says quietly before pulling back slightly to look at him. “Maybe we could make this a thing. Just us…hanging out with Noah? And if Eli ever wants to tag along, too…” She trails off, relieved to see his eyes brighten at her words. “That is, if we can make it work with all of our schedules?” She adds. His lips lift, his shy smirk blossoming into a full-blown grin at the fact that she’s inviting him back in to spend time getting to know Noah better, and that she wants his son to feel welcome here, too. “I’d really like that, Liv.” He says warmly.
She grins back as the silence settles over the two of them once more. He reluctantly says “I should go…it’s getting late.” His eyes drop briefly to her lips in a silent question, and she responds, lifting slightly on her toes to meet his in a good night kiss.
It’s chaste. Simple.
But it holds a promise for so much more.
He pulls back, turning his head and dropping a kiss to her cheek. Then as he tightens his arms around her in one last hug, his lips fall to her neck as he rumbles. “Good night, Liv.”
Right against that spot.
Before she has time to process it, he has released her from his grip and she finds herself watching his back as he turns the handle and opens her door. He glances back at her one last time as he crosses the threshold into the hallway, pulling it closed behind him, leaving her to wonder whether or not he saw right through her little white lie about her neck.
—————————————————————
PRESENT DAY:
Ready to make her presence know, she takes two steps forward, silently rounding the corner and leaning her shoulder against the entryway into the kitchen, crossing her arms in front of her as she watches him, waiting for him to notice her.
He stands at her sink, his blue dress shirt unbuttoned and untucked from his dark gray dress pants, a simple white undershirt clings to his torso underneath it. The vest and tie he’d been wearing had been shed only moments after his suit coat had come off earlier in the evening. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, his attention focused downward as he works a soapy sponge over the serving bowl that had held their dinner. His head bobs in tempo with the music (now a song by The Eagles) as he works, occasionally tapping one of his socked feet on the hardwood floor.
It brings her such amusement to see him like this, so relaxed and at ease, the only burden in his life in that moment being the stubborn flecks of basil and Parmesan cheese that have dried, crusted, and fused to the ceramic finish of her Corningware.
As if sensing he is being watched, he pauses, his head turning and in her direction. He sees her standing there, and he grins, his eyes soft.
“Hey.” He greets her again, just like he had earlier in her hallway.
She takes a slow step toward him.
And then another.
“Hey.” She greets back.