title: possession - chapter seven
author: duck...a meenesotan duck, doncha know...kawaaaack. say it aloud....or i guess you had to be there to think that's funny. oi.
rating: pg-13, like chris carter's production company, except with p and g instead of ten
author note: i made this [incredibly shippy chapter]!
disclaimer: i didn't make the show though.
- Friday September 3rd 5:49pm -
Olivia took a quick look at her watch and groaned. Elliot's appointment to sign the divorce papers had been at four and she'd promised him dinner and drinks afterwards. She glared at the abysmal failure that was her dinner plans and groaned again. Somehow she'd never quite gotten the hang of cooking and now all she could deliver on was her promise of getting him incredibly trashed afterwards.
"Deliver," she said thoughtfully to the empty kitchen. Now there was a possibility. She felt bad as she picked up the phone to dial Luigi's down on the corner. She'd promised him a good home-cooked meal and he was going to get pizza. But then again he'd laughed at her when she'd said she'd cook. Stupid idiot. He was getting what he deserved.
No, he was getting a divorce, which wasn't quite what he deserved. Olivia sighed as the phone rang through. Elliot hadn't really talked much about their reasons for it. He'd just said that Kathy had had enough of him never being there and Olivia had accepted that at face value. She knew there was probably more to it than that, but she hadn't wanted to push him when he clearly didn't want to talk about it yet.
She tossed the smoking remains of chicken into the trash as she placed an order for a large pepperoni and sausage. Fifteen minutes and she'd have dinner. God but she loved New York.
-----
Elliot stopped outside the door to the apartment he'd been sharing with his partner for the last four months. He had his keys out, but he didn't put them in the lock. Instead he rested his forehead on the wood of the door and took in a deep breath.
He'd just signed off on the last twenty years of his life as if they hadn't meant anything to him. In the rush and hell-bent fury of the case the past week the only reminder he'd had it coming was a few days ago when Liv had asked him about it. He'd spent all morning doing paperwork to finish up their side of the deal as Alex stepped in and smoothly took over, getting everything ready for prosecution. It had been a tortured morning of being stuck at his desk, the only thing he'd been able to think about was his impending appointment.
It had been not enough warning and an excruciating eternity all at once.
Kathy had been there and they'd looked over everything, made sure everything was properly settled. And they'd signed the papers and closed a huge era of his life. They'd hugged afterwards; it was after all a rather amicable event, not at all what he'd expected from a divorce. They were supposed to be bitter and angry, not peaceable and happy with the situation.
Happy. It wasn't quite the term he would have thought he'd apply to it. He stared at the ring on his finger. He could take it off now. The thing it symbolized was over and dead. He slowly slid it off and it clanked against his keys. The bare swath of skin on his finger seemed to glare in the light and he stared at it for a few moments, contemplating what his life had become.
He could now say he was the divorced father of four who worked till all hours at an emotionally burdening job and lived with his female partner in a completely platonic situation. He'd rather it not be platonic of course, which only complicated matters. And he kept getting the feeling that maybe she wanted more too. The looks, the glances. Hell today she blatantly checked his ass out. Not that he knew why. She was a gorgeous woman who could have had a guy like Danny Adler.
But she was still displaying interest, and that bare spot on his ring finger meant he was completely able to do something about it for the first time in the six years he'd known her. He stuck the ring in his pocket, the keys in the door, and prayed this evening went the way he hoped it would.
-----
The instant Elliot closed the door behind him the smell of pizza hit him. Smelled like a whole lot of meat too. He laughed. "I told you you'd fail at it, Benson!" he called out, knowing the apartment was too small for her not to hear him.
Sure enough her head popped out from the kitchen. "Shove it, Stabler."
"What happened to the chicken?" he asked, grinning as he walked towards her.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. "It took a flying leap into the trash can. I tried to talk it off the ledge, but it decided it was its time to go."
"Uh-huh," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Your trash can's under the sink."
"Right."
They engaged in a staring battle for a moment before she finally broke away and grimaced. "The fire department would have declared it at least a three alarm blaze."
"Glad I wasn't here," he said as he sniffed the air. There was a distinctive odor of burnt chicken underneath the delicious aroma of fresh pizza. "Luigi's?"
"Would I order pizza from anywhere else?"
"Nope." He investigated the box further, pulling up the lid. "Mmm, pepperoni and sausage. You sure know how to treat a guy, Liv. There beer too?"
"No. Well, there's still some stuff in the fridge," she amended. "But I bought a couple bottles of wine."
"Ah, going for the classy stuff? Celebrate in style." He turned to face her and realized she was watching him closely.
"Is it a celebration?"
He thought about it for a moment. "Yes. It's the end of a major part of my life. I'd rather celebrate it than mourn its passage."
"You're awfully chipper for a guy who was served with divorce papers." She moved to grab two plates from the cabinet.
"Honestly Liv, I'd been thinking about talking to Kathy about it for a while. She just beat me to it." He pulled a couple pieces from the pie and put them on the plates she set down next to the box. "And the Catholic in me is glad she started it, not me."
"Well if you need to talk about it..." she offered, not finishing the sentence. He smiled at her as he handed her a plate.
"No, I don't think I do. It just feels right. Kathy and I still love each other, but only as the parents of the same children. It was time to move on and we both knew it." He sat at the table as she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of white wine.
"Then let's toast to it," she said, putting the bottle on the counter.
"Want me to--"
"I can get it," she interrupted. He grinned at her stubborn streak of independence. No, Olivia Benson didn't need anyone to pull the cork out of a bottle of wine for her and he probably should have known better than to ask.
He watched her silently as she twisted the corkscrew in, then pulled it out almost effortlessly. The way the muscles in her arms bulged as she pulled only contrasted with the delicate way she poured it and he openly stared, his chin in his hand. How he had managed to ignore his fascination with her before he had no idea. Did all divorced men feel this way the instant they'd taken their rings off for good? It was a thoroughly liberating experience.
She placed a glass in front of him and raised her own. "To..." she trailed off.
He smiled as he lifted his. "To every ending instead being a beginning." Not that *that* was cheesy or anything, he admonished himself. Liv seemed to like it, however, and she clinked her glass against his.
"Cheers."
-----
Two hours later they'd demolished the pizza and a bottle and a half of wine between the two of them. Elliot grabbed the bottle that was left and suggested they move to the living room. Olivia quickly agreed; the kitchen chairs were getting uncomfortable after all, and they hadn't danced in the living room since Sunday night.
She soon found himself settled comfortably on the couch next to her mildly inebriated partner. Their usual music floated out of the speakers. "So," he said, grinning sloppily at her. "Come to a decision on trying to collect on the pool yet?"
"I already told you," she pronounced carefully the way drunk people tend to do. "We're not going to even try."
"Fine," he said, standing and holding out his hand. "Shall we dance?"
"Haven't done that in a while," she said, taking his hand. He pulled her up and she immediately let herself fall into him. They embraced tightly and she knew they'd both had too much alcohol to try any of their more intricate dances.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and she rested her chin on his shoulder. She savored the feeling of being held by strong arms around her waist. He tilted his head to rest against hers and they swayed gently to the music.
"Mmm," she mumbled in the back of her throat.
"What?" he whispered in her ear. A shiver that started in her toes ran through her entire body at the feeling of his breath on her ear. Where the hell was this going?
"This is nice."
"Much better than running down criminals," he agreed. This felt so different from any other time they'd dance. They'd danced drunk before, so that certainly wasn't it. It had just never felt so...she searched to put a name to the feeling. Intimate. It never felt so intimate before.
She could feel his head moving as he turned to rest his nose against her cheek. "Liv?"
"Mmm?" She only had to move a few inches to look him in the eye. Those beautiful light blue eyes of his. Eyes she could lose herself in if she weren't careful. Who wanted to be careful? This felt so right and good.
It felt so right when he covered her lips with his own, kissing her delicately. She'd never felt such a feather light touch before and her eyes slid shut with the pleasure of it. She didn't question the feelings, losing herself in the music and his perfect mouth. The kiss deepened, but he broke off and began to plant kisses down the line of her jaw.
She groaned and all pretense of dancing was lost as he brought a hand up to gently cup the back of her head. He lavished his love on the soft area behind her ear and she moved to recapture his lips with hers. She slid both hands up his neck, up to cradle the sides of his face. She could feel the crescendo of the music as he slid his tongue inside her mouth, deepening his intensity without any sort of heavy action.
Almost immediately he pulled back, leaving a dizzying sense of incompletion behind. Just as quickly he was kissing her throat, working his way down to the open collar of her shirt. Her hands skimmed around to the back of his neck as she threw her head back, giving him easier access. Whatever God may be out there, she thought to herself, thank you for creating a man so skilled at the art of seduction.
He was moving back up to her mouth when the song stopped. They were left staring at each other in the silence and in an instant all her common sense came rushing painfully back. Oh God, what were they doing?
"Elliot," she said, her voice no more than an exhalation. "We can't..."
He groaned as he let her go. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Liv."
"No, not sorry," she insisted. Not sorry at all. "Just not now."
He slithered bonelessly to the couch, his hands over his face. "What was I thinking?" he mumbled through them.
She curled up next to him and was grateful for the arm he put around her. "That it was good," she said, smiling slightly.
"Yeah," he admitted, his other arm coming around her to complete the hug.
"We just can't do this right now," she sighed. "Not on the day of your divorce."
"And not while we're still partners?"
"I never said that." This was the hardest thing she'd ever had to force herself to do. Her body was screaming at her to accept his seduction; to grab him by the hand and run for the bedroom. Her mind kept repeating over and over than it wasn't a good idea. Ultimately she had to listen to her mind. "We can wait, Elliot. Let's not rush into anything."
"Can we just clear a couple things up?"
"Sure."
"I'm probably in love with you." Oh, well that explained a couple things. Like why he couldn't stand to see another guy within ten feet of her unless it was Munch or Fin or the captain. It also gave her a great deal of pleasure.
"Probably yes," she agreed. "And the same probably goes for me too."
"So we've got a whole lot of probables, huh?" he asked. "This is more complicated than any math class I've ever been in."
She chuckled into his chest, glad for the residual alcohol-induced tingle. "Let's not complicate it any worse than it needs to be."
"Right, so for now I just resist all my urges to throw you over my shoulder and demonstrate my caveman tendencies?"
"Pretty much." She felt a wave of sleepiness pull at her eyelids. "I'm going to fall sleep right here, Elliot. Can you hold me for a while?"
"Absolutely. I've got six years to make up for."
"Are you sure you're okay with this?"
"I wouldn't have said yes if I weren't."
She snuggled deeper into his chest and smiled as she let herself drift off to a peaceful sleep. They could deal with the particulars when they were sober, but this was definitely something she could get used to.
[end]
mmm, i love the shippiness. but i love the angst too, so consider yourself warned for the next one.
author: duck...a meenesotan duck, doncha know...kawaaaack. say it aloud....or i guess you had to be there to think that's funny. oi.
rating: pg-13, like chris carter's production company, except with p and g instead of ten
author note: i made this [incredibly shippy chapter]!
disclaimer: i didn't make the show though.
- Friday September 3rd 5:49pm -
Olivia took a quick look at her watch and groaned. Elliot's appointment to sign the divorce papers had been at four and she'd promised him dinner and drinks afterwards. She glared at the abysmal failure that was her dinner plans and groaned again. Somehow she'd never quite gotten the hang of cooking and now all she could deliver on was her promise of getting him incredibly trashed afterwards.
"Deliver," she said thoughtfully to the empty kitchen. Now there was a possibility. She felt bad as she picked up the phone to dial Luigi's down on the corner. She'd promised him a good home-cooked meal and he was going to get pizza. But then again he'd laughed at her when she'd said she'd cook. Stupid idiot. He was getting what he deserved.
No, he was getting a divorce, which wasn't quite what he deserved. Olivia sighed as the phone rang through. Elliot hadn't really talked much about their reasons for it. He'd just said that Kathy had had enough of him never being there and Olivia had accepted that at face value. She knew there was probably more to it than that, but she hadn't wanted to push him when he clearly didn't want to talk about it yet.
She tossed the smoking remains of chicken into the trash as she placed an order for a large pepperoni and sausage. Fifteen minutes and she'd have dinner. God but she loved New York.
-----
Elliot stopped outside the door to the apartment he'd been sharing with his partner for the last four months. He had his keys out, but he didn't put them in the lock. Instead he rested his forehead on the wood of the door and took in a deep breath.
He'd just signed off on the last twenty years of his life as if they hadn't meant anything to him. In the rush and hell-bent fury of the case the past week the only reminder he'd had it coming was a few days ago when Liv had asked him about it. He'd spent all morning doing paperwork to finish up their side of the deal as Alex stepped in and smoothly took over, getting everything ready for prosecution. It had been a tortured morning of being stuck at his desk, the only thing he'd been able to think about was his impending appointment.
It had been not enough warning and an excruciating eternity all at once.
Kathy had been there and they'd looked over everything, made sure everything was properly settled. And they'd signed the papers and closed a huge era of his life. They'd hugged afterwards; it was after all a rather amicable event, not at all what he'd expected from a divorce. They were supposed to be bitter and angry, not peaceable and happy with the situation.
Happy. It wasn't quite the term he would have thought he'd apply to it. He stared at the ring on his finger. He could take it off now. The thing it symbolized was over and dead. He slowly slid it off and it clanked against his keys. The bare swath of skin on his finger seemed to glare in the light and he stared at it for a few moments, contemplating what his life had become.
He could now say he was the divorced father of four who worked till all hours at an emotionally burdening job and lived with his female partner in a completely platonic situation. He'd rather it not be platonic of course, which only complicated matters. And he kept getting the feeling that maybe she wanted more too. The looks, the glances. Hell today she blatantly checked his ass out. Not that he knew why. She was a gorgeous woman who could have had a guy like Danny Adler.
But she was still displaying interest, and that bare spot on his ring finger meant he was completely able to do something about it for the first time in the six years he'd known her. He stuck the ring in his pocket, the keys in the door, and prayed this evening went the way he hoped it would.
-----
The instant Elliot closed the door behind him the smell of pizza hit him. Smelled like a whole lot of meat too. He laughed. "I told you you'd fail at it, Benson!" he called out, knowing the apartment was too small for her not to hear him.
Sure enough her head popped out from the kitchen. "Shove it, Stabler."
"What happened to the chicken?" he asked, grinning as he walked towards her.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. "It took a flying leap into the trash can. I tried to talk it off the ledge, but it decided it was its time to go."
"Uh-huh," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Your trash can's under the sink."
"Right."
They engaged in a staring battle for a moment before she finally broke away and grimaced. "The fire department would have declared it at least a three alarm blaze."
"Glad I wasn't here," he said as he sniffed the air. There was a distinctive odor of burnt chicken underneath the delicious aroma of fresh pizza. "Luigi's?"
"Would I order pizza from anywhere else?"
"Nope." He investigated the box further, pulling up the lid. "Mmm, pepperoni and sausage. You sure know how to treat a guy, Liv. There beer too?"
"No. Well, there's still some stuff in the fridge," she amended. "But I bought a couple bottles of wine."
"Ah, going for the classy stuff? Celebrate in style." He turned to face her and realized she was watching him closely.
"Is it a celebration?"
He thought about it for a moment. "Yes. It's the end of a major part of my life. I'd rather celebrate it than mourn its passage."
"You're awfully chipper for a guy who was served with divorce papers." She moved to grab two plates from the cabinet.
"Honestly Liv, I'd been thinking about talking to Kathy about it for a while. She just beat me to it." He pulled a couple pieces from the pie and put them on the plates she set down next to the box. "And the Catholic in me is glad she started it, not me."
"Well if you need to talk about it..." she offered, not finishing the sentence. He smiled at her as he handed her a plate.
"No, I don't think I do. It just feels right. Kathy and I still love each other, but only as the parents of the same children. It was time to move on and we both knew it." He sat at the table as she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of white wine.
"Then let's toast to it," she said, putting the bottle on the counter.
"Want me to--"
"I can get it," she interrupted. He grinned at her stubborn streak of independence. No, Olivia Benson didn't need anyone to pull the cork out of a bottle of wine for her and he probably should have known better than to ask.
He watched her silently as she twisted the corkscrew in, then pulled it out almost effortlessly. The way the muscles in her arms bulged as she pulled only contrasted with the delicate way she poured it and he openly stared, his chin in his hand. How he had managed to ignore his fascination with her before he had no idea. Did all divorced men feel this way the instant they'd taken their rings off for good? It was a thoroughly liberating experience.
She placed a glass in front of him and raised her own. "To..." she trailed off.
He smiled as he lifted his. "To every ending instead being a beginning." Not that *that* was cheesy or anything, he admonished himself. Liv seemed to like it, however, and she clinked her glass against his.
"Cheers."
-----
Two hours later they'd demolished the pizza and a bottle and a half of wine between the two of them. Elliot grabbed the bottle that was left and suggested they move to the living room. Olivia quickly agreed; the kitchen chairs were getting uncomfortable after all, and they hadn't danced in the living room since Sunday night.
She soon found himself settled comfortably on the couch next to her mildly inebriated partner. Their usual music floated out of the speakers. "So," he said, grinning sloppily at her. "Come to a decision on trying to collect on the pool yet?"
"I already told you," she pronounced carefully the way drunk people tend to do. "We're not going to even try."
"Fine," he said, standing and holding out his hand. "Shall we dance?"
"Haven't done that in a while," she said, taking his hand. He pulled her up and she immediately let herself fall into him. They embraced tightly and she knew they'd both had too much alcohol to try any of their more intricate dances.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and she rested her chin on his shoulder. She savored the feeling of being held by strong arms around her waist. He tilted his head to rest against hers and they swayed gently to the music.
"Mmm," she mumbled in the back of her throat.
"What?" he whispered in her ear. A shiver that started in her toes ran through her entire body at the feeling of his breath on her ear. Where the hell was this going?
"This is nice."
"Much better than running down criminals," he agreed. This felt so different from any other time they'd dance. They'd danced drunk before, so that certainly wasn't it. It had just never felt so...she searched to put a name to the feeling. Intimate. It never felt so intimate before.
She could feel his head moving as he turned to rest his nose against her cheek. "Liv?"
"Mmm?" She only had to move a few inches to look him in the eye. Those beautiful light blue eyes of his. Eyes she could lose herself in if she weren't careful. Who wanted to be careful? This felt so right and good.
It felt so right when he covered her lips with his own, kissing her delicately. She'd never felt such a feather light touch before and her eyes slid shut with the pleasure of it. She didn't question the feelings, losing herself in the music and his perfect mouth. The kiss deepened, but he broke off and began to plant kisses down the line of her jaw.
She groaned and all pretense of dancing was lost as he brought a hand up to gently cup the back of her head. He lavished his love on the soft area behind her ear and she moved to recapture his lips with hers. She slid both hands up his neck, up to cradle the sides of his face. She could feel the crescendo of the music as he slid his tongue inside her mouth, deepening his intensity without any sort of heavy action.
Almost immediately he pulled back, leaving a dizzying sense of incompletion behind. Just as quickly he was kissing her throat, working his way down to the open collar of her shirt. Her hands skimmed around to the back of his neck as she threw her head back, giving him easier access. Whatever God may be out there, she thought to herself, thank you for creating a man so skilled at the art of seduction.
He was moving back up to her mouth when the song stopped. They were left staring at each other in the silence and in an instant all her common sense came rushing painfully back. Oh God, what were they doing?
"Elliot," she said, her voice no more than an exhalation. "We can't..."
He groaned as he let her go. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Liv."
"No, not sorry," she insisted. Not sorry at all. "Just not now."
He slithered bonelessly to the couch, his hands over his face. "What was I thinking?" he mumbled through them.
She curled up next to him and was grateful for the arm he put around her. "That it was good," she said, smiling slightly.
"Yeah," he admitted, his other arm coming around her to complete the hug.
"We just can't do this right now," she sighed. "Not on the day of your divorce."
"And not while we're still partners?"
"I never said that." This was the hardest thing she'd ever had to force herself to do. Her body was screaming at her to accept his seduction; to grab him by the hand and run for the bedroom. Her mind kept repeating over and over than it wasn't a good idea. Ultimately she had to listen to her mind. "We can wait, Elliot. Let's not rush into anything."
"Can we just clear a couple things up?"
"Sure."
"I'm probably in love with you." Oh, well that explained a couple things. Like why he couldn't stand to see another guy within ten feet of her unless it was Munch or Fin or the captain. It also gave her a great deal of pleasure.
"Probably yes," she agreed. "And the same probably goes for me too."
"So we've got a whole lot of probables, huh?" he asked. "This is more complicated than any math class I've ever been in."
She chuckled into his chest, glad for the residual alcohol-induced tingle. "Let's not complicate it any worse than it needs to be."
"Right, so for now I just resist all my urges to throw you over my shoulder and demonstrate my caveman tendencies?"
"Pretty much." She felt a wave of sleepiness pull at her eyelids. "I'm going to fall sleep right here, Elliot. Can you hold me for a while?"
"Absolutely. I've got six years to make up for."
"Are you sure you're okay with this?"
"I wouldn't have said yes if I weren't."
She snuggled deeper into his chest and smiled as she let herself drift off to a peaceful sleep. They could deal with the particulars when they were sober, but this was definitely something she could get used to.
[end]
mmm, i love the shippiness. but i love the angst too, so consider yourself warned for the next one.