Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Olivia walked out into the night, heels clicking against the slick pavement, the weight of the service still pressing into her chest. Cragen’s voice had lingered in every story told tonight—gruff, wry, protective. A thousand nights of advice, growled warnings, crooked little smiles that had kept them all upright in their darkest days. And now he was gone.

The city breathed around her—steam curling up from the grates, the low hum of traffic, the faint echo of laughter from a block away. But to her it was too quiet, too hollow. She tugged her coat tighter, blinking against the sting in her eyes.

He was there before she even saw him—leaning against a car, posture easy but eyes tracking her every step. Elliot. Like he always had been, waiting in the dark when she wasn’t sure she wanted to be found.

“Hey,” he said softly as she drew near. “Saw Lou Fernelli roll in there. Pretty good night for that guy.” His smile was a poor disguise for what flickered beneath.

She stopped, breath misting between them. “You alright?”

He hesitated, then shook his head with that half-smirk. “I don’t like funerals.”

Her laugh was humorless, bitter. “Me neither.”

They stood in silence, the streetlamps throwing long shadows across the pavement. Olivia swallowed hard, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat. “I just feel like we’re entering our ‘all our friends are dying’ era.” Her voice cracked at the edges.

Elliot’s jaw tightened. “It’s the worst era,” he admitted.

“Absolutely.” She forced herself to look at him, to ground herself in the familiar shape of him—the broad shoulders, the lined face, the steady eyes that hadn’t changed, no matter how much else had. “Not that you can go back, and not that I’d want to, but… we had a pretty good run there for a minute.”

He met her eyes, steady and unflinching. “I still do. Just… different.”

Something in her chest gave way then, the grief and the memory folding into the simple truth of his presence. She managed a faint smile. “Get off my car.”

He laughed under his breath, stepping aside just enough for her to take her place beside him. They leaned together against the hood, shoulders brushing, silence stretching out like it had a thousand times before.

“Go in there and say hello,” she urged softly after a beat.

He shook his head, eyes flicking back toward the hall. “Not tonight.”

She let it go. She knew what ghosts waited for him in rooms like that.

Her hand found his sleeve before she even realized it, grounding herself in the warmth there. “Love you,” she said, quiet but certain, the words carrying the weight of decades between them.

Elliot’s eyes softened, the corner of his mouth twitching in something like relief. “Love you too.”

And before either of them could second-guess, Olivia stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. His arms came around her instantly, strong and protective, his chin resting against her hair. For a moment they didn’t speak, didn’t need to—the grief, the history, the comfort of each other’s heartbeat was enough.

When she finally pulled back, her hands lingered on his shoulders. His eyes were wet, though he’d never admit it. She gave a small, sad smile.

“See you tomorrow,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low but steady. “Tomorrow.”

The city roared on, indifferent. But for a moment, wrapped up in each other on a dark street, it was just them—two survivors, holding on to the only truth that had never wavered.

Chapter Text

Olivia drove herself home, fists on the wheel. She tried to gasp for air around the ache in her chest, Cragen's laughter and the feel of Elliot's hand still echoing in her mind. She didn't remember parking, only the sound of the car door slamming shut behind her and the clomping of her heels on the stairs.

She'd almost stripped off her coat when the phone rang. Stabler. Of course.

She answered, her voice shaking, "Yeah?"

His was deep, gentle. "You home?"

She closed her eyes, letting his words register. "Just came in the door."

"I shouldn't have let you go out by yourself."

She laughed, more gasp than anything. "You didn't. You were there. I just… needed to drive."

A pause. "I'm outside."

Her heart pounded. She crossed to the window and, there he was, standing next to his own car, arms crossed, eyes on her apartment building daring her to ask him in.

She undid the lock and steeled herself, heart pounding, as his footsteps echoed up the hallway. When he stood in her doorway, they simply stared at each other for a heavy, tense second.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, voice rough. 

"Me neither." Her lips trembled. 

Elliot locked the door behind him. "I couldn't stop thinking of you in that room alone."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," she replied, voice barely above a whisper.

He reached for her, hesitantly, as if he was afraid she might break. She stepped into his arms, their bodies colliding in a desperate quiet, and when their mouths connected, it was more of a collision—teeth, tongue, everything raw and starving.

He drew back barely enough to say, "Tell me to stop and I will."

She shook her head, tangling her fingers in his hair. "Don't you dare."

His hands struggled with her coat, shoving it down from her shoulders. "I need you, Liv. Goddamn, I need you so badly."

"Take me then," she whispered, already pushing his shirt from his jeans.

Clothes hit the floor in a frantic blur—her blouse unbuttoned, bra pushed aside, his hands everywhere. He dropped to his knees, kissing the line of her stomach, biting lightly at her hip. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Always have been.”

She quivered as he kissed his way down to her thighs, his fingers grasping her panties and pulling them down over her legs. His breath moved over her pussy, hot and hungry, then his mouth, tongue darting at her clit, sucking on it, making her gasp and reach for his hair.

"Fuck—Elliot—" Her knees gave way.

He licked her deeper, tongue fucking her, one hand gripping her ass, the other drawing circles on her clit. She pressed her hips against him, grinding against his face, moaning as the pleasure peaked, hard and overwhelming.

He growled, "Come for me, Liv. Give it to me."

She broke, legs trembling, cries echoing off the walls as she came hard in his mouth.

Elliot stood, wiping his lips, eyes mad. "Turn around. Bed. Now."

She stumbled towards the bed, heart thudding, chest still wheezing. He pulled off his clothes in a rush, pushing off his boxers and jeans, cock thick and hard, already glistening. She couldn't help but stare, licking her lips as she spread her legs for him.

He crawled over her, kissing her hard, hand sliding between her thighs, fingers sliding through her wetness. “God, you’re so wet. So ready for me.”

He lined himself up and pushed inside in one smooth thrust, burying his cock in her pussy to the hilt. They both groaned, the stretch perfect, the heat drowning out everything else.

He started slow, grinding deep, hips rolling, letting her feel every inch. "Look at me," he snarled, his fingers on her chin. She did—her eyes meeting his, wide and open, every shred of pain and love and want burning between them.

He fucked her harder, faster, hips smacking into hers, bed creaking below them. She had her legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked, pushing him deeper.

"Harder, El, fuck—don't stop—"

He growled, speeding up, one hand rising up her body to enclose her breast, thumb playing over her nipple, the other hand tightening around her hip brutally hard.

"Your cunt feels so fucking great," he growled, cock driving into her, wet and sloppy and better.".

She grasped his ass, all thrusts taken, relishing the stretch, the slap of skin on skin, the way she could sense him anywhere. "Fill me up, Elliot. I want you so deep."

He slammed his lips against hers, swallowing her gasps, pumping into her until she was there, the edge closing in fast.

"Come for me again, Liv. Let me feel you."

She broke apart with a scream, pussy constricting tight around his cock, body trembling, vision going white. He fucked her through it, cock throbbing, hips stuttering as he came deep inside her, heat filling her with each final stroke.

They were in a sweaty heap, chests pumping, his cock still lodged inside her, both of them trembling.

"Stay," she whispered, kissing his shoulder, his jaw, his lips. "Just… stay."

“Always,” he promised, rolling onto his side, dragging her with him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as if the world couldn’t touch them.

They lay there, tangled up, sweat drying on their skin, hearts pounding together. He brushed the hair from her face, eyes searching hers.

“You okay?” he asked, soft.

She nodded, nuzzling into his chest. “I’m so much better now. Don’t let go.”

He kissed her forehead with a brush of his lips. "Not leaving, Liv. Not now. Never."

Chapter Text

Sunlight came through the blinds, striping contorted bodies and sweat-moistened sheets. Olivia woke to the feel of Elliot's chest against her back, his arm over her waist, palm pressed flat on her abdomen. She could still feel him everywhere—inside, outside, beneath her skin. Her thighs were sticky, her body sore in the best possible way.

Elliot shifted, nuzzling into her neck, his warm breath on her shoulder. "You awake?" he mumbled, his voice low and thick with sleep.

She smiled, stretching, letting her hips rock back against him. She could feel his cock, already stirring, pressing against the curve of her ass. "Mmm. Barely.".

He kissed the hollow of her neck, hand coming up to cup her breast, thumb pressing against her nipple. "You know, I could get used to this," he said, his voice playful but with an undercurrent of something real.

She laughed, arching back against him. "What, waking up in my bed, hard as a rock?"

He smiled against her skin, grinding into her a little harder. "That, and all the rest.

She turned in his arms, winding her legs around his waist, her body instantly alive at the feel of him. She found his mouth, kissing him slow and deep, tongues tangling as she shifted on top of him, letting his cock slide between her slick folds.

“God, Liv, you’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, hands roaming her body, cupping her ass and pulling her down over him.

She gasped, tearing her mouth from the kiss, when he thrust into her, filling her in one smooth, perfect, incredible thrust. She rode him slow, relishing the drag and pull, her pussy gripping him tightly with each roll of her hips. His hands moved to her waist, guiding her movements, letting her dictate the pace.

He stared at her, hunger and worship battling in his gaze. "You look so fucking beautiful like this," he whispered. "Taking my cock, all messy and needy—fuck."

She leaned forward, her hands planted on his chest, her hair falling around them in a curtain as she started to move harder, faster, chasing the edge they both sought. He thrust up into her, meeting every movement, his skin damp with sweat, his breath blazing against her mouth.

Their bodies collided, the sound echoing in the morning stillness. She could feel him everywhere—his cock buried deep inside, his hands gripping on her hips, his mouth fastening over her nipple, sucking and biting until she shrieked.

"Harder, El, please—don't stop—fuck, I'm so close—"

He grasped her hips, slamming up into her, the cadence brutal and relentless. "Come for me, Liv. I want to feel you lose it on my dick."

She shattered, pussy tightening around him, nails digging into his shoulders as she climaxed hard, eyes whiting out with searing pleasure. He fucked her through it, lost control, hips jerking as he came deep inside her, filling her up with a guttural groan.

She collapsed onto him, the two of them shuddering, hearts racing. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, kissing her hair, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.

They lay together in the aftermath, skin sticky, breaths mingling. Olivia buried her face into his neck, breathing him in, letting herself be soft and safe, for a little bit at least.

"You good?" he whispered, threading a hand through her hair.

She smiled, nodding. "Never better."

He rolled them onto their sides, pulling her close, his dick slipping out of her with a wet, satisfied sound. She laughed, shoving at his chest. "You're dripping out of me, Stabler."

He smiled, kissing her forehead. "Good. Marking my territory."

She groaned, playing. "You're such an asshole."

He squeezed her rear, making her yelp. "Yeah, but you love it."

Shower Scene

They eventually dragged themselves out of bed. Olivia padded toward the bathroom, glancing back over her shoulder. "You coming, or what?"

He did, not bothering with clothes, his gaze on the sway of her hips as she turned on the shower. The room misted with steam as she stepped beneath it. He joined her, hands locating her waist immediately, lips leaving kisses along her wet shoulder.

She shoved him back, his cock hardening against her lower back. "You never give up, do you?" she teased.

He spun her, slamming her into the tile, mouth hot and demanding. "Not with you.".

She lifted one leg, letting him take it over his hip, guiding his cock to her entrance. He thrust into her, groaning at the tight heat, pinning her against the wall as he fucked her, water pouring down their bodies, mixing with sweat and passion.

Her screams echoed off the tile, hands clutching at his shoulders as he pushed into her, rhythm brutal and hungry. The water from the shower was making everything slick, her body sliding easily against his, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through her.

"Elliot, fuck, yes—right there—"

He kissed her savagely, drinking in her sobs, hips slamming into hers until she came with a wail, nails raking down his back. He followed a moment later, cock pulsing deep inside her, pouring out all he had left.

They clung like that, holding each other, letting the water wash away the last remnants of sorrow and exhaustion.

Soft Domestic Morning

After she'd dried off, Olivia put on a robe, finding Elliot rummaging through her fridge. Bare chested, hair mussed, in only boxers, he was a vision. And he seemed at home—more at home than anyone she could ever remember.

"Cooking for me now?" she teased, leaning against the counter.

He looked up, smiled. "You deserve breakfast in bed after last night.".

She rolled her eyes but let him cook, watching the play of muscles as he turned eggs, the comfort with which he navigated her kitchen.

"Seriously, Liv. I want more mornings like this. All of them, if you'll have me."

She came up behind him, arms around his waist, chin on his shoulder. "You keep making coffee and fucking me stupid? Yeah, you're stuck with me."

He turned, kissing her deep and slow, so she'd know he wasn't kidding.

They dined, feet tangled together under the table, exchanging smiles and playful jabs. After all of it—the funerals, the crying, the losses—it came down to this: love, laughter, sex, and the quiet certainty that they were exactly where they were meant to be, in each other's arms.

They allowed the city to fall away for a while, choosing one another above everything.

And in that small sun-filled kitchen, Olivia permitted herself to believe they could have all the years left to be—together.

Chapter Text

The late morning light illuminated the apartment to almost gold, holding dust motes suspended in the air. Olivia was stretched out on the couch, legs drawn up under her, Elliot beside her. Her robe was open, one nude thigh cast across him. They'd been immobile for a long time, just savoring the feel of each other after the night and sleepy, languid morning.

Elliot sketched slow lines up and down her leg, holding on with his hand, his thumb caressing the delicate skin of her knee. He kissed beside her temple. "You're quiet. That a good thing?"

She smiled, turning to nuzzle his jaw. "Yeah. It's a really good thing. I don't get this much—just…peace. You make it easy."

He smiled, turning so he was facing her fully. "You know you don't have to hide from me, right? I want the dirty stuff too. Not the sex and the simple things."

She looked at him, searching for the words. "I know. I want that too, El. Everything. Even when it's hard."

He wrapped his fingers with hers. "It was tough last night. I didn't want you to go home by yourself, Liv. I couldn't stop thinking—what if I never told you enough? What if you don't understand how much I love you?"

Her face relaxed. She inched forward, leaving a slow, hard kiss on his mouth. "I do know. You reminded me. Every minute."

His other hand slipped under her robe, upon her breast, pinching her nipple so that she drew a gasp. "Let me show you again."

She rode him, robe open, unashamed and naked in the morning light. His cock was already hardening beneath her, pressing up against the wet folds of her as she rocked her hips slowly, torturing them both.

He growled, fingers gripping her waist. "You're trying to kill me."

She smiled, lowering herself until the tip of his cock was rubbing against her pussy, slipping over her folds, pooling slick. "You can take it, Stabler."

She eased down slowly, taking him inch by inch, gasping at the stretch, the sense of fullness. He filled her completely to the brim, hands holding her in position as she rocked her hips in a slow, torturous rhythm.

They found their rhythm—slow, deep, deliberate, each movement all about comfort and touch. She rested her hands on his shoulders and let her head fall back, riding him, her tits bouncing with each bounce of her hips.

He gazed at her, utterly captivated. "You're so fucking beautiful. Every time I reach the place where I think I've seen it all of you, you give me something more."

She laughed, husky and low, burrowing her fingers into his shoulders as she picked up speed, driving towards her climax. "You say the sweetest shit when you're deep in my pussy."

He smiled, his hips thrusting upwards to meet hers thrust for thrust. "Can't help it. You make me honest."

Their bodies slapped against each other, sweat shining on their skin, both of them on the edge. She leaned down, her hand working over her clit in hard circles, gasping as the pleasure mounted, higher and higher.

"Come with me, El," she panted, eyes wild, grinding down on him, taking him as deep as he'd ever go.

He squeezed her hips, thrusting up, grunting his moan of her name as she held tight, coming hard with a cry. He followed, semen spilling deep inside her, head falling back, mouth open on a soundless moan.

They lay around each other, shuddering through the aftershocks, gasping for air.

A minute thereafter, Olivia rolled off him, panting against his chest, sticky and full. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair, making circles on her back with his palms in slow, soft strokes.

They lay like that, lazy and twisted, the sounds of the city permeating the open window. Elliot's hands did not leave her—fingers making circles on her skin, soft, calming.

She sighed, rolling over so she could see him. "What are we, El? I mean, I know what we are, but—"

He brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek, his face somber. "We're everything, Liv. You and me. Always were."

She kissed him, hard and grateful, letting herself believe it.

There was a still moment between them, broken only by the vibration of Olivia's phone on the coffee table. She reached for it, eyeing the screen.

"Olivia, Noah discovered that he's returning. He's got coffee with him."

Elliot grinned, standing up, sliding a hand across his face. "Guess we'd better dress."

She grumbled, reclining further on the couch. "He always has the worst timing."

He playfully pushed her. "Or the best. Gives us a reason to do this again sometime." He raised his eyebrows, and she snorted.

They competed for sink space on the way to the bathroom together, both of them laughing. Olivia pulled on a tank top and a comfortable pair of shorts, Elliot pulled on a t-shirt and sweats from the stack of extras she kept for him in the bottom drawer.

Back in the kitchen, Elliot started cleaning up—plumping the couch cushions, loading their dirty towels into the washing machine, his best attempt at erasing the evidence of the morning's escapades. Olivia perched on the couch, eyeing him with a soft smile, refilling her own glass of water, her heart full of wistfulness.

A minute or two later, the front door burst open and Noah rushed in, arms laden with pastries and two iced coffees. "Mom! I got you a cinnamon roll. And your iced latte! Hi, Elliot."

Elliot grinned, scratching Noah's hair. "Good morning, buddy. Nice haul."

Noah kicked his backpack off the table and started unloading pastries immediately. He eyed both of them warily. "You guys look tired. Like, really tired."

Olivia shot Elliot a warning look, barely suppressing a laugh. "Long night, kiddo. Been a week."

Noah took his usual seat, munching a donut. "Yeah, I heard you sobbing in your bedroom last night, Mom. I was going in but I thought you didn't want to be disturbed."

Elliot was more sympathetic. Olivia took her hand across the table, holding Noah's. "Thanks, sweetie. I'm better now."

Noah nodded, looking from one of them to the other, a small smile on his lips. "You both.look better. Both of you."

Elliot's gaze met Olivia's, the warmth between them making her draw in her breath.

They ate, and laughter mingled with plate clinking and the scent of coffee. For the first time in days, Olivia felt free—a burden lifted, even if temporarily.

After breakfast, Noah disappeared into his room to play video games. Olivia leaned back in her chair, watching Elliot clear the table.

She got up, wrapping her arms around him from behind, pressing her face between his shoulder blades. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

He turned, cradling her face in his hands. “I’m here, Liv. As long as you’ll have me.”

She smiled, tears of happiness in her eyes. "Always."

He kissed her slowly and sweetly, in her kitchen, sunlight dancing in his hair, her heart open and vulnerable.

Noah's voice from another room. "You guys making out in there? Gross!"

Elliot laughed, drawing back, flushed cheeks. "He'll get used to it."

Olivia shook her head, but she was smiling, happiness warm and living in her chest.

As afternoon gave way to morning, the three of them settled into a rhythm—Noah's babbling in the other room, Elliot with his arm around Olivia on the couch, the safe quiet of actual life happening. There was still grief, still the heaviness to everything, but for the first time in a long time, there was hope as well.

And in the midst of the soft chaos of it all, Olivia permitted herself to believe: even during the worst, she was still allowed to have something beautiful.