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A/N: Place this anywhere you want in the verse, after their relationship is fully established. This has outsider POV and Olivia's POV, it should be pretty obvious when the switches happen. This is not the author's commentary on any one type of parenting/mothering, it's just fiction with some stereotypes as plot devices. It's not that deep.
“Well, hey there curly Q!”
Christine DeMott greets Noah Benson and his mom as they approach the check-in table, plastering on her best fake smile.
“Hi,” Noah says flatly, giving a little wave.
Kid is rude.
“Olivia,” Christine breathes, trying to hide her surprise, “Glad the city can spare you for the day.”
Olivia huffs out a laugh, tipping her head. “Well, Christine, here’s hoping. How are you?”
“Oh, we’re just swamped up here,” Christine laughs, finding their names on her list to check them off, “Doing a million things at once. You know how that is.”
Olivia nods knowingly, even though Christine knows for a fact she's never volunteered a day in her life for anything having to do with the dance studio’s booster club.
“I get that,” Olivia sighs, smiling tightly, “So, how does this work, exactly?”
Christine inwardly rolls her eyes. “Well, like we said in the email, the dance-a-thon will run for twelve hours, starting at ten am. They’ll go over the rules before you start, but kids can only leave the dance floor for snack and bathroom breaks, otherwise they’ll be tapped out. And parents are welcome to join in at any point!”
They won’t really enforce the rules too closely, it’s just a fundraiser, after all.
“Sounds fun,” Olivia smiles, resting her hand on Noah’s shoulder, “Ready, Noah?”
“Let me just get you your wristbands, and your number,” Christine says, shuffling through her papers, “I’m sure your pretty little partner is already here, let’s see you’re dancing with—oh, Ben. Is that—you’re dancing with Ben?”
Noah sticks his chin out a little, like he’s daring her. “Yeah. We’re friends.”
Christine narrows her eyes for half a second.
The attitude on this child, thank goodness her MaKaylin would never.
She recovers, offering Noah his number with another brilliantly fake smile. “Ben is already checked in, so you should be good to go. Here you go, have fun!”
Olivia wraps her arm around Noah as they head into the ballroom, nodding politely, and Christine watches them out of the corner of her eye. Olivia pins Noah’s number to the back of his shirt, and he runs off to join the other kids who are already milling around the dance floor. Instead of joining one of the groups of parents scattered at different tables, Olivia, predictably, finds an empty table in the corner and pulls out her laptop.
None of them really know Olivia Benson.
At first, she’d just been ‘Noah’s mom’, a mystery to all of them; she’d sporadically appear at drop off or pick-up, wearing aviators and a gold badge. Then, a group of them had done some recon over wine one night, and discovered that she’s a police captain, that the unit she runs focuses on awful people like rapists and pedophiles. They’d wondered what business she has raising a child with that kind of schedule, since she’s very obviously chronically single; she’s awkward, with the other parents, like she doesn’t know how to fit herself in with people who aren’t cops. Christine supposes that’s a hazard of being so insulated by work, too busy to date, or have a child who isn’t adopted.
Christine hasn’t worked since her first child was born, and she can’t imagine not being available for her four children at any moment.
It’s not mandatory to volunteer with the booster club, but most of the parents do anyway, hosting events and planning fundraisers. Everybody except Olivia, who rushes into recitals and showcases with five minutes to spare, still in her work clothes, and sits with Noah’s nanny instead of a husband. That’s why the fact that she’s shown up for a twelve-hour dance event, on a Saturday, shocks the hell out of Christine. The kids aren’t even required to have a parent present, there are studio teachers here to chaperone in shifts—although, she expects many of the parents to stick around once the bar opens at three pm.
“Is that Olivia?”
Katie Roberts slides in next to Christine at the check-in table, back from touching up her lipstick. They’re out of earshot of what’s happening in the ballroom, but they lower their voices anyway.
Christine clicks her tongue and busies herself with the dance numbers, chancing a glance over at Olivia. She’s in her own world, per usual, glasses now perched on the end of her nose.
“Yep,” she says quietly, turning to Katie, “Surprised me too. Care to wager on how long you think she’ll stay?”
Katie tips her head in thought, keeps her voice low. “An hour and a half, tops, before her phone rings.”
“Poor Noah,” Christine sighs, shaking her head, “You know, all kids really want is your time. Imagine just, choosing to leave them all the time.”
Katie takes a sip of her coffee, nodding. “You know what gets me? Can you imagine being single right now?”
“No,” Christine laughs, shifting some registration papers around, “I mean, Bill’s out of town two weeks every month, but it’s not like we don’t talk.”
Katie’s smile slips just a little. “Right, exactly.”
As predicted, the dance-a-thon kicks off without a single hiccup.
But, Christine hadn’t had any doubts; she thinks of every detail, anticipates every potential problem. The trays of snacks rotate seamlessly, and the buffet stays hot and fully stocked. The bartender shows up right on time, much to the delight of the parents who have been there for hours, and right around five o’clock, more parents start trickling back in.
To everyone’s surprise, Olivia Benson hasn’t had to leave yet. She’s kept to herself, taken a few phone calls, stepped out briefly and come back with a salad, but she’s still in the ballroom. They’ve all commented on it; they’re not gossiping, of course, it’s just so unusual for her to be so attentive, so available.
Christine makes her way back over to the check-in table when she sees a line forming; they’ve implemented a strict online registration policy, and every adult that wants to check in is required to be associated with one of the children entered in the competition.
She’s just finishing up with Hunter’s parents, when a man at the end of the line catches her eye. He’s clearly alone, but he isn’t any single dad that she recognizes; he’s bald, tall, and, well, frankly he’s gorgeous. Her gaze slides over his muscled arms, his narrow hips; his chest is hard to miss in the fitted Henley he’s wearing, because he has all the buttons undone except for one. A silver cross dangles from his neck, and as he turns around to read one of the signs they’ve posted, her mouth goes dry, because his ass—
She nudges Katie, and tips her head down the line, seamlessly transitioning into greeting Poppy’s mother.
‘Who’s that?’
Katie mouths the question to her and she shrugs, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. She keeps one eye on him as the line moves forward, and he barely even looks up from his phone, shuffling along with everyone else. In what seems like no time at all, he’s sliding up to her side of the check-in table, with a devastatingly charming smile.
“Hi,” he grins, sliding his phone into his pocket.
Christine has to clear her throat, and she can feel a blush creeping up her neck. “Good evening. Name?”
“Elliot Stabler.”
Stabler?
“Okay, let me just, flip to the ‘S’ page here,” Christine mutters, trying to keep her cool, shuffling through the list of registrants, “Umm, well—I don’t see you on here, but let me check one more time—“
“I think I registered a little late,” Elliot offers, grimacing in apology, reaching for his phone again, “Here, I have the receipt in my email—“
“Which child are you here with?” Christine blurts out, before she can stop herself.
“Noah Benson,” Elliot says offhandedly, scrolling through his phone, “Ah, got it.”
Christine nearly balks, because that can’t be right.
“Elliot!”
Before he can show her his confirmation, Noah comes barreling out of the ballroom and Elliot turns just in time to catch him.
“Hey, pal!” he laughs, scooping Noah up into a hug, “You tearin’ it up out there?”
Noah’s flushed with excitement, mouth full of a cookie, when he pulls back to look at Elliot. “You came!”
“Of course I did,” Elliot gasps, setting Noah back on the floor, “I told you I would, didn’t I? Someone’s gotta keep Mom company while you’re out there showing off your moves.”
“I tried to get her to dance already but she said not until you got here,” Noah grins, reaching his hand out to fist bump Elliot.
Elliot chuckles, nodding. “Oh we’ll get her out there, don’t worry. Hey, see you in there, okay?”
Noah runs off with a wave, and Christine just manages to close her mouth before Elliot turns back to her.
“He’s the best, isn’t he?” Elliot sighs, jerking his thumb in Noah’s general direction, “Here’s that receipt, am I good? I donated more than the minimum.”
He’s switched right back into charming mode, and it’s all happening so fast it’s giving her whiplash. Christine blinks, and peers over at his phone screen to see that he does have a confirmation email from the registration company, and he clearly is here with Noah and Olivia Benson.
“Yea—yes! Yes, you’re welcome to go right on in,” Christine manages, trying to pull herself together.
Elliot hesitates, and then smirks. “Do I need one of those?”
“Right!” Christine laughs nervously, tearing off one of the wristbands, “Of course, yes. Here you go, have fun!”
Katie takes a sip from her water bottle—which Christine knows to now be full of white wine—and leans over to whisper. “He’s with the Bensons?”
“Shhh,” Christine hisses, craning her neck to watch him pause in the doorway, looking around, “Let’s just—maybe he’s Noah’s uncle or something.”
“Gotta be,” Katie agrees, nearly sliding off her chair, “Oh wait, look—there he goes—“
Elliot’s spotted Olivia in the corner, and what happens next makes Christine think she’s had more prosecco than she’s realized. Olivia spots the man, and lights up; she smiles, stands up as he approaches, and drapes her arms around his neck as they embrace, holding on for a few seconds. Then, they pull back and connect in a kiss, one that lasts long enough for him to cradle her face and stroke her jaw with his thumb.
Olivia puts her laptop away as they settle down at the table, and instantly fall deep into conversation, with one of his hands rubbing slowly over her denim-clad thigh.
Katie whistles quietly. “I’ll be damned.”
“How’ve you been doing today?” Elliot murmurs, palm warm and reassuring on her thigh.
He knows that these dance events aren’t her favorite, that she doesn’t exactly fit in with this crowd, despite the fact that Noah’s been at this studio for years.
She shrugs, reaching out to fix the cross around his neck so it hangs straight. “More of the usual. I got a lot of paperwork done.”
“Noah wants you out there,” he grins, glancing over his shoulder to the dance floor, “He already told me.”
“He’s been having so much fun,” she sighs fondly, eyes scanning to find Noah in the crowd of kids, giggling as he dances, “Thank you for coming. It means so much to him.”
His eyes soften. “Hey, ‘course I’m here. Anything for him, you know that. And somebody’s gotta save you from having to socialize with dance moms.”
He shudders to make her laugh, and it works. She reaches out and palms the back of his neck, sliding closer to him, wanting to soak in his presence after being stared at all day.
“You realize I am a dance mom, right?” she teases, fingers rubbing lightly against his neck.
He closes his eyes for half a second, affected. “Yeah but you’re not one of those kind. The mean kind.”
She's quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the room and catching more than one person staring in their direction.
“I dunno,” she admits, shrugging as she watches Noah again, “Sometimes I think they might be right. I know what they say about me, I’ve been in enough bathroom stalls when they thought they were being discrete. Sometimes I do work too much, and we are late, and I should be more involved—maybe it would make him happier—“
“—hey, uh-uh,” Elliot interrupts, eyes suddenly serious and fierce, “You are an incredible mom—“
“—I mean, Christine practically planned this whole thing by herself, and she’s no friend of mine but look at it—“
“Christine is a judgmental bitch,” he cuts in, raising his eyebrows, “Whose kid wants nothing to do with her. Noah’s always saying that all MaKenna—no wait, McKenzie?”
“MaKaylin,” Olivia offers softly, smiling gently at his rant.
“—yeah, that one. He’s always saying all she does is complain about her mom. Noah adores you. That kid is happy, and healthy, and adjusted. He is so loved, and he knows it. Do you see any other kids begging their mom to come out and dance with them? It doesn’t matter whether you plan fundraisers or not.”
Her eyes prick with tears as he talks, shaking the insecurity out of her with his words, and for the hundredth time this week, she’s reminded how grateful she is for him.
“I know,” she breathes, closing her eyes to clear the tears away, “I know that. I just—being with these people sometimes—“
“—I know,” he soothes, now with both of his palms moving in long, reassuring strokes over her shoulders.
“—I get…I dunno. It’s like high school, it’s stupid,” she finishes, leaning in when he offers her a forehead kiss.
He murmurs with his lips against her skin. “The way you feel isn’t stupid. But anyone who can’t see that you’re a great parent, is.”
“Mo-om!”
They both turn to see Noah standing at the edge of the dance floor with Ben, dancing on the spot as he calls out to her.
“You said, when Elliot got here—“
Olivia scrunches her face. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Let’s go, Benson,” Elliot announces, grabbing Liv’s hand to drag her toward the dance floor, “I’ve been warming up.”
The talk of the event, after that, is that Olivia Benson has brought a man.
And not just any man, a gorgeous, charming, good-with-kids man. Who dances.
Christine can’t stop chancing glances at them; sneaking over to the kids’ buffet for bowls of macaroni and cheese, like juveniles, tucked into their corner sharing a glass of bourbon, and of course, on the dance floor. They’re among only a handful of adults out there, so they’re hard to miss. He tugs and twirls and shimmies away with her, to any of the eclectic mix of songs that come on, pulling Noah in here and there. They dance as a threesome, and a twosome, and at one point Elliot does a loop around the floor by himself, picking up several kids in an impromptu conga line.
She’s never seen Olivia laugh, like this. Hadn’t even thought it was possible for someone so serious, so focused, to have another side to her personality.
Christine isn't jealous, though.
Certainly not.
By the end of the night, the kids are all exhausted.
There are some meltdowns, some sugar crashes, some arguments.
But Noah simply crawls into Elliot’s arms and falls asleep on his shoulder, like it’s the only logical thing to do. Olivia melts when she comes back from the bathroom, and finds them at the table, Elliot perfectly content to sit and wait, hand absently moving in gentle pats against her son’s back.
“This happened in no less than ten seconds,” Elliot smirks, watching as she starts to gather their belongings, “It was actually pretty impressive.”
“He’s out,” she chuckles, shoving extra clothes and shoes back into Noah’s duffel bag, “I better order a car—“
“No, I have the truck,” he offers, adjusting his hold on Noah as he stands up, “Couple blocks away, figured it would be a good idea.”
“Oh, good,” she smiles, hefting their two bags over her shoulder, “Ready?”
“Yeah, I think we’ve sufficiently shut this thing down.”
Olivia chuckles softly, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Let’s go home.”
A/N: Thank you for reading! It was actually painful to write awful things about Liv so I had to add in some other perspective lol. I'd love to know your thoughts!