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DUN DUN
The small corner café, not far from the 16th Precinct, was still draped in the early morning shadows. The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans floated through the air, mixing with the scent of the rain gently drumming against the windows. They had only recently started their secret relationship, and every moment shared before putting on their cop suits was precious.
Olivia, wearing a long, dark trench coat, ran a hand through her long brown hair, which fell gracefully over her shoulders. She stepped up to the counter under Elliot’s watchful eye. Elliot, on the other hand, was standing his ground, his tiny porcelain cup of black espresso—brewed as dark and strong as ink—already steaming in front of him.
"A latte, please, with a double shot of hazelnut syrup," Olivia ordered from the barista with a warm smile.
Elliot nearly choked on his own saliva. He set his cup down with a sharp clink on the small formica table and stared at Olivia in total disbelief.
"A double shot of syrup? Olivia, please... Are you ordering a coffee to wake up, or a liquid dessert for a ten-year-old?"
Olivia picked up her large, steaming mug, a smirk playing on her lips showing she had completely anticipated his reaction.
"It’s morning, Elliot. I need some sweetness. Not everyone wants to drink liquid tar first thing in the morning."
"It’s not tar, it’s real coffee," he shot back, arching a brow, his 5-day stubble twitching as he defended his precious brew. "What you’re doing there is a sacrilege. You’re killing the bean under a mountain of chemical sugar. It’s almost an insult to Italy."
Olivia sat down across from him, tucking her long hair behind her ears, and pointed a finger at Elliot’s tiny cup.
"Let's talk about your Italian coffee, then! That thing right there is a pure sleeping pill. It’s so strong and heavy that it makes you want to crawl straight back into bed after the first sip. I don't even know how your heart handles it."
"It gives you energy, Liv. It’s the very fuel of a field cop," he grumbled, playing offended.
"It's an anesthetic, is what it is!" she teased. She took a small spoon and, with calculated slowness, swirled the hazelnut-scented foam of her latte. "You’re a grumpy purist. Taste it. Just one spoonful. If it’s really that awful, I’ll let you criticize my taste until the end of the week. But if you like it, you have to admit you’re just a stubborn old man."
Elliot hesitated, throwing a suspicious look at the spoon she was holding out to him. Driven by the challenge in Olivia’s eyes, he leaned forward and took the spoon. He brought it to his lips.
Silence fell over the table. Elliot closed his eyes. Against all odds, the sweetness of the milk and the aroma of toasted hazelnut perfectly wrapped around the bitterness of the espresso in a surprisingly pleasant way. He swallowed slowly, trying to hide his expression.
"Well?" she asked triumphantly, resting her chin on her hands.
Elliot cleared his throat, searching for words to save his pride as a detective.
"It’s... it’s drinkable. The hazelnut cuts the acidity, fine. It’s actually... pretty good. But it still doesn't beat a real ristretto!"
"Liar! You loved it!" Olivia laughed out loud, the sound of her voice instantly warming up the room.
DUN DUN
A few weeks later...
A weekday morning in the kitchen of Elliot’s apartment. The morning light was barely filtering through. On the counter sat his brand-new acquisition: a sophisticated Italian coffee maker, a chrome masterpiece worthy of top-tier baristas, which Elliot religiously used to brew his "sleeping pill" espressos.
Olivia walked into the room, still a bit sleepy, her long hair beautifully messy over her shoulders, wearing an oversized t-shirt belonging to Elliot. She walked over to the machine to brew herself something to get through the day before heading to the precinct.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Right next to the porcelain espresso cups sat a small glass bottle with a sleek design: "Hazelnut Syrup - Premium Roast".
Elliot walked up silently behind her. His powerful arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his warm chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, taking in the scent of her long hair.
"I thought... for the mornings you sleep over, it would be nice if you didn't have to suffer through my purist coffee," he murmured in a low voice, a bit raspy from sleep.
Olivia ran her fingers over the syrup bottle, deeply touched by this gentle gesture hidden behind his tough-guy cop exterior. She turned around in his arms to face his large blue eyes.
"Elliot Stabler... Did you actually buy hazelnut syrup for your sacred kitchen?"
"Don't tell anyone at the precinct, Liv. My reputation is on the line," he smiled, rubbing his 5-day stubble against her cheek before kissing her tenderly. "Now, hurry up and show me how you dose your liquid thing, because the Italian machine is waiting for you."
Olivia threw her arms around his neck, a huge smile on her face. The coffee war was officially over, and their routine was just beginning.