Work Text:
They’d had Thanksgiving late this year to try and accommodate as many schedules as they could, and only having two of their family missing was a pretty decent feat, considering the numbers they’d accumulated over the years. Reyes and Whelan were sitting a surveillance shift, but they wouldn’t be missing out, because he’d been ordered to deliver two plates Liv had piled high with leftovers for them.
Elliot had just returned from- in Jet’s words- his very important mission, when a text from Fin came through as he was cutting the ignition.
One line of text, “She says come and get your love.”
And a single picture accompanying it.
Olivia making a kissing face to the camera, loose tendrils of hair falling against her temples, wine stained lips, and that flush that painted her cheeks when she’d drank a little too much.
He ran his thumb reverently over the face on his screen, smiling softly and saving it, before opening his car door to the sound of a thumping beat drifting from his apartment. And the closer he got to his front door, the louder the volume, until he was twisting the knob and the drumbeat was vibrating through his chest.
He made the mouth of the hallway and stopped, glancing around and soaking in a Benson-Stabler holiday; kids everywhere, running wild, chasing after Noah’s new puppy that Kathleen couldn’t wait til Christmas to give him.
He grinned at the kids’ chaos, and noted how, apparently, every single adult under his roof preceded to get sloshed in his mere hour absence.
Rollins and Carisi were tangled up, passed out on the couch. Ken’s husband, Alejandro, was the same, in the recliner beside them, an empty champagne glass hanging on for dear life between two fingers. Dickie, Eli, Muncy, Velasco, Ken, and Phoebe were huddled around a table littered with beer bottles and cocktail glasses, and a shit ton of paper pink fifties from Kathleen’s old monopoly game. Muncy had her hands lifted, the rest of the table in rapt attention, as she explained whatever the fuck they were doing.
And then there were his girls.
The source of the migraine inducing music, and the stumbling beat of happiness in his chest.
They hadn’t noticed him, too caught up in the joy of sisterhood and, he suspected, a healthy dose of liquor. So, he leaned against the wall and watched awhile.
Jet and Liz were propped on the counter between a mountain of leftovers, heads tossed back in uncontrollable laughter but not a sound was coming out. Bernie, laughing herself, was passing back and forth between them, and blowing in their faces like they were babies who’d cried so hard they’d stopped breathing. Maureen and Ayanna were mixing drinks on the opposite counter, hip bumping each other to the beat while they worked. And Kathleen and Liv were shimmying and shaking from one side of the kitchen to the other, laughing and clasping hands as they took turns twirling.
And if he dropped dead in this moment, that would he okay. Because the last vision he wanted to take with him before he met his maker, was this snapshot of absolute unfettered joy. His girls, happy and healthy and whole, and him, the lucky bastard who got to help give them a little piece of that.
Olivia caught sight of him mid twirl, and her face lit into a nose scrunching, lip stretching, blinding smile, as she rallied the girls to welcome him home, in true inebriated fashion. A line of women offering sloppy cheek kisses came to him, murmuring their congratulations on a truly harrowing journey of delivering turkey to a parked car. His Liv saved herself for last, and took his mouth in a kiss most definitely not fit for the little eyes running circles around their living room. Pulling back with a resounding smack of her lips, she attempted to sweetly nuzzle his nose, but being as hammered as she was, she swayed off balance, and got him right below the eye instead.
He tightened his arm around her waist, and played with the hairs at the nape of her neck. “Thank you for that.”
She smiled against his skin, nose still pressed to him, and murmured in that deep, gentle voice that had his pulse kicking up every time , “I’m really glad you’re back.”
Tipping his head back, he brushed a kiss across the bridge of her nose, and grinned. “Are you?”
“Always.”
And he hugged her to him tight. Using his hand in her hair, he tucked her face to his neck, and kissed the crown of her head, resting his lips there and breathing her in. He’d been wrong before, this was the moment he wanted to carry with him to the other side. The woman he loved held close, happiness radiating out of her every pore at knowing her man had come home to her.
Absolute fucking bliss would be putting his feelings lightly.
She giggled against him, warm puffs of drunken delight skating across his skin, as a ever loudening chant of her name called from the women of the kitchen.
Tipping her head back, she lifted her lips, and closed her eyes, waiting. And he granted her request with a gentle kiss, before he turned her around by the shoulders, and sent her back to her girl gang with a playful pat to her ass.
She danced back into the circle with a cheer, and Bernie grasped one of her lifted hands, filling it with a wine glass, and eliciting another round of tipsy shrieks from the girls.
Turning towards the living room, Elliot caught sight of Fin, sprawled out in a dining table chair tucked against the wall, and he made his way to him. Easing himself down to a chair someone had brought in from the patio, he asked, “Are you the only sober adult in this house?”
“Think so.”
Elliot smiled. “Papa Fin being responsible.”
Fin shrugged a shoulder. “Somebody’s gotta make sure the kids don’t kill themselves.”
“I’m sure Jesse and Noah-“
Fin cut him off when he lifted a finger, and pointed to the kitchen. “I mean them.”
And unbeknownst to her, Olivia picked the perfect moment to scream across the space between them, “El, watch this!” She raised both her hands, mirror fingers pointing to the top of Bernie’s white head, “Did you know she could do this?”
And he watched, a grin tugging at his lips, as Bernie executed a wobbly pirouette, ending it with her hands high like an Olympic gymnast who’d just stuck the landing.
And his girls went wild with applause- clinking glasses and high-fiving a beaming Bernie.
“See.” Fin muttered.
They slipped into a comfortable silence for a moment, keeping watch over their family, until Fin broke it, “Whelan and Reyes doing okay out there?”
Elliot leaned back, crossing his ankle to the opposite knee, and getting comfortable. “The streets are safe another day.” He waved a hand, circling from the table to the kitchen, encompassing Fin’s team, and asked, “What happens if they get called in?”
Fin grinned. “I’d like to see.”
“McGrath would have a coronary.”
Fin’s grin widened. “That, I’d really like to see.”
A shout came from the table, and Elliot turned his head in that direction, to see an explosion of those pink fifties fluttering to floor, and all the kids falling on them like the winning whack from a piñata.
“What-“
Fin patted his forearm, and mumbled, “Don’t ask, man.”
Liv’s husky laugh floated from the kitchen, and his eyes drifted to her. She was shaking her shoulders and ending on a shimmy with every hop she took towards Ayanna, an Ayanna who was reeling her across the kitchen with her phantom fishing pole; the other girls lining their path and cheering them on. And Elliot laughed at Fin’s whined, “Aw naw, Cap, not the finger guns.” As she shot dual finger guns into the air in triumph when she made it to Ayanna.
A quiet lull hung in the air before Kathleen headed to the speaker dock where her phone was, and played the same song for the third time since he’d been home.
But he couldn’t bring himself to give a damn, because Liv lifted her hand and clinked her glass with Jet’s, and then Maureen’s, and then Liz’s, as she swayed her shoulders and rolled her hips, dancing across the kitchen.
“I’ve never seen her this happy.” Fin murmured quietly, a soft affection curling around his words. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Stabler.”
“I intend to.” He promised, because he did, for the rest of their lives.
“Or I’ll kill you.” Fin assured, as serious as Elliot had ever heard him, and he believed it. He knew there wasn’t a limit to what the brother of Olivia’s heart would do to ensure her happiness.
“Understood.”
Olivia danced their way, and Elliot dropped his foot to the floor and straightened, bracing for the little hop into his lap she was definitely about to execute.
And she did.
Tucking herself against him, she offered him her glass of wine, and noted, “My boys are looking very serious over here.”
He took a sip of her wine, and held it to her lips so she could take another. “We take our adult babysitting duties very seriously, Captain.”
She swallowed and rolled her eyes dramatically, and he knew that had only been a prelude to her wholehearted disagreement of the babysitting comment, when she tucked her face to his neck and blew a raspberry there. He laughed, and cupping her crown, he held her to him, as he brushed a soft kiss to her forehead.
Snuggling in, she wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed him close, before tipping her head back and meeting his eyes, asking with that nose scrunching smile, “You wanna dance?”
He drained the wine, and massaged her hip a moment, before tapping it to signal he was getting up and she should too. Liv stood, holding herself still for a second to get her bearings. When she’d steadied, Elliot cupped a hand to her nape, and tugged her to him, nuzzling her nose tenderly, and holding those shining, dark eyes as he answered softly, “Let’s show these kids how it’s done, baby.”