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They’re curled up together on his couch; Olivia has her legs thrown over his lap, and her head rests against his shoulder. He has his arm thrown around her back, holding her to him, and they’re enjoying their brief moment of quiet tranquility at the end of another long day’s work; his fingers are splayed out, tracing tiny patterns across the slight stripe of bare skin where her shirt has ridden up.
She hums, softly, caressing her hand across his chest, nudging her face further into the crook of his neck.
He’s always going to want her, to need her, even; he doesn’t know if his desire for her will ever abate, but he highly doubts that day will ever come. It’s not only about his physical attraction to her and their undeniable chemistry, though, because he is also crazy in love with Olivia and doesn’t care who knows.
Plus, he knows – especially with everything that she’s been through, all the years she spent feeling incredibly unloved – that she likes to hear the words out loud. He can’t undo their shared past, or her past in particular, but he’s going to do everything he can to show her how worthy she is of love, affection and adoration. Specifically, his love, affection and adoration, and his words are but one of the tools he can use.
“I love you, Olivia,” he whispers softly, easing his hand up along her shoulder blades and playing with the loose ends of her hair. He thinks of his friend from his undercover days, Reggie, who’s currently sitting behind bars serving a lighter sentence in exchange for his testimony, and the phrase he’d use with his mother: I love you more than banana cream pie.
He’d used it with his own mother once, and she’d looked at him like he was having a fever. Olivia would call him out on it right away.
“I love you more than –“ and he starts to think back on everything from their partnership, from their years together. “I love you more than egg rolls from our favorite Chinese restaurant. I love you more than Italian roast coffee on a cold winter morning.”
She looks up at him, smiles expectantly, as if she knows he’s not done talking.
“I love you more than Munch loves a good conspiracy theory, or Cragen loves his Red Vines. And I love you more than Jet loves hacking, or Fin loves knowing stuff that he really shouldn’t.” And even though the words are cheesy, he means every one of them. “I love you more than Bell loves –“
“Okay, okay, I think I get it,” Olivia says, laughing a little as she tilts her face up and plants a gentle kiss against his jawline.
“Olivia, I love you more than anything, and more than you’ll ever know.” He leans over and their kiss becomes deeper; he feels her rock slightly against him, shifting their angle slightly so her lips slant tantalizingly over his, and he attempts to coax more of the small whimpers and moans she’s making out from her with a nip of his teeth or a slide of his tongue.
“I know,” she says, as they break from the kiss long enough to look at each other; her eyes are brimming over with love for him at this moment. “I know – and ditto,” she continues, dipping her fingers low to skim the vein along his neck, scraping her nail along the ridge. The love in her eyes has turned to seduction, and he knows what that means.
With that, he scoops her up in his arms with a burst of laughter; one arm is behind her back, propping her up, while the other is tucked under her knees. One day, maybe, he can carry her like this over the threshold into their honeymoon suite; for now, he’ll satisfy himself by carrying her into their bedroom like this.
He’ll never let her fall, ever again, and if she somehow does, he’ll be there to catch her.
Always.