Work Text:
We don’t have forever
“Elliot I want to,” she said sliding her cheek across his stubble, pulling herself away even as she leaned into him. Her heart was swaying towards him as her mind tried desperately to pull her back. “I want to…but I can’t”
The mind always wins.
His fingers gripped harder on her hips trying to keep her melded to him.
“Why can’t you?” He inquired desperately in a whisper.
“What if it doesn’t work out?” Her voice cracking as she tried to fight the panic attack bubbling inside of her. She wasn’t ready, but this could be it. This could be the moment he decides she’s not worth the chaos of her. She was green lit by a fucking gang, for christs sakes.
He pulls her closer putting his forehead against hers again. “And what if it works out?”
Christ. She wants to. She wants chaos everyday with him. More than anything. But he doesn’t know, not really. He doesn’t know who this Olivia is. This was child’s play to the trauma she’s already been through and he doesn’t know. She’s not ready.
“I can’t.. I’m sorry… I’m not ready for this,” she steps back out of his grasp and takes another step to lean on the counter, her head falling against the cool metal of her fridge. “I’m not ready for this.”
He watches her in agony and it makes his stomach clench that he’s the one doing this to her.
“It’s okay, Liv. It’s okay. Whatever you are ready for..” he trails off for a moment and then waits for her to look at him. His blue eyes hold her brown softly making sure she’s listening. “Whatever you need me to be… I’m here. I’ll be it. All I’m asking is that you ask me. That’s all, Liv. Okay? I just want to be in your orbit. Included in the phone tree when something happens.”
“Phone tree?” She smiles lightly at him, the corners of her lips barely turning up, but he’ll take it.
“I just wanna know about you, okay? I’ll take the crumbs, Captain,” he shrugs and takes a step forward, but stops as he watches her shoulders tense. “I just want to help, Liv, but it seems like at the moment I’m making it worse. ‘M sorry. The last thing I wanna do is make this situation worse for you, so I’ll go, okay?”
There it is. He’s slipping through her fingers. She’s so tired. Her ribs hurt. He starts to take a few steps back and she physically feels any safety she felt she had slipping away with him. Without thinking she steps forward and reaches her hand out to cover his that’s resting on her kitchen island.
“I don’t want you to go,”she whispers her gaze focused on their hands. He steps forward quickly and pulls her into his chest.
The chaos of what if settles in her head. The voices screaming contradicting outcomes fall silent. She’s never felt safer than here, against his, far to solid for a 62 year old, chest.
“Standing right here, Captain. Standing right here,” he whispers into her hair and kisses the top of her head.
What if it does work out?