Chapter Text
Olivia loves the fall, but by November the cold turns a little bitter and though she’s lived in New York City for 53 years, there’s always an adjustment period. The freezing cold always comes out of nowhere, shocking her system and tweaking injuries, making her ache enough to remind her of the decades she's spent on the job. This year, it’s the annoying pain in her ankle that bothers her as she walks the final flight of steps to Fin and Phoebe’s apartment.
“Mom?” Noah has an apple pie and is waiting for her at the top of the steps. He’s half proud of himself for beating her with time to spare and half concerned that he is a full flight ahead of her. “You okay?”
“I didn’t know it was a race,” Olivia jokes, reaching for him. He grabs her hand and tugs her along the rest of the way to Fin’s apartment door. One knock and the door swings open revealing the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. She’s tall and blonde and her hair is elegantly rolled into a bun on top of her head. Her boots are high in height and stop just under her knees and the sweater she wears is tight enough to see the outline of her full breasts. By just the sight of this woman, Noah’s concern for his mother melts away and a mischievous smile forms and out sticks his hand.
“Hello, I’m Noah. This is my mom. Happy Thanksgiving!”
“You must be Olivia? I’m Maggie. Phoebe’s sister.”
Ahh, her mind sings. Awesome! Obviously, Phoebe’s sister is here. It’s a holiday. It’s a family holiday. “Hi,” Olivia forces out. “Yes. I’m Olivia.”
“I’ve heard all about you,” Maggie says into the cuff of her hand, stage whispering. She's sure Maggie is attempting to be sweet and inviting but all it does is make her recoil on the inside. She should be more mature than this and tries to be, forcing a smile. “Come on in guys! The party has just started. My son and his cousins are going to love you, Noah!” Maggie reaches for Noah, wraps a hand around his shoulder and Noah’s eyes widen. Her son is smitten by this woman and who could really blame him?
Of course, she thinks. Of course, she’d be forced to eat a holiday dinner with the woman chosen to be Elliot’s new love interest, and of course, her kid would find this woman to be fucking breathtaking— because she is. Of course!
Her inner voice is still yelling in her head when Phoebe wraps her up in a hug, holding the pie she and Noah have just picked out of a bakery section of the only grocery store still open in their neighborhood.
“Oh Liv, this looks good! Thank you!” Phoebe kisses her cheek. Upon entering the apartment fully, she finds Noah already huddled around a television, a group of boys screaming at the Bears against the Lions, and way too many adults drinking, laughing, talking. “Sorry for the noise. We’re a football family.”
Phoebe introduces her to everyone: her younger, recently divorced, way too beautiful sister Maggie, her brother John, his wife, a cousin named Kim, and their spouse, Phoebe’s parents. And hiding all the way in the back is a friend of Phoebe’s.
Olivia does an assessment quickly and it all makes sense why Fin insisted on her being here. This guy is tall, no ring, straight teeth, grey in his beard, and he’s got the look in his eyes like he’s been waiting on her and only her all day.
It's not lost on her how Phoebe slinks away and leaves her there talking to this friend of hers. His name is Mike, and he’s from Long Island, and he is divorced, too, and it goes on and on until finally, Fin emerges from the back of the apartment with his coat on.
“Sorry,” Fin mouths, his eyes on the guy clearly meant for her. He brings up his cell, shakes it. "Got a call."
“Sorry, Mike,” she says quickly, pointing toward Fin, ending the introductory conversation abruptly. She walks across the room to Fin, her one and only friend here and her heart feels like it's going to beat out of her chest at even the idea of him abandoning her. The call can't be that bad, she thinks. Fucking Velasco should be able to handle whatever the fuck it is.
“Velasco’s got a body in the morgue. Crime scene isn’t too far from here—“
“I’m coming.” One glance at Noah and she finds him yelling at the TV along with the other kids and while they have holidays where she says no no matter what, Thanksgiving is not one of them.
“No! You stay. I just wanna hit the crime scene. He’s identified the family but can't get anyone on the phone. They appear to be out of town for the holiday and the husband is missing—“
“That doesn’t sound right,” Olivia says quickly. “Three heads are better than two and if you make me stay here Fin, I’ll make sure you’re working Christmas and New Year's Eve.”
Fin looks behind her. At Mike and then like she'd been waiting for the perfect moment, he hears his sister-in-law cackling in the corner. And then the eyes of his friend, large and begging him not to leave her. “Heard you, Captain.”
—
Olivia is layered in soft cotton underneath her wheat-colored trench coat, dark blue jeans, and comfortable booties. She’s thankful she is dressed for the weather because they spend hours outside in the cold. From 2 PM on Thanksgiving Day, Olivia works the case alongside Velasco and Fin and she’s seated behind her desk when the sun finally goes down. They've notified the family and interviewed a handful of them and now that they've asked for privacy, begged really, they are stuck back at the precinct. They have no information on the husband. She absolutely could rejoin the party, get back to the apartment in time for dessert but Noah is fine. He's bonded and is having too much fun he tells her over text and has saved her a slice of pie to go. See you soon, she texts to her boy and he sends back a thumbs up and at that very moment, Fin comes barreling back into her office.
Offering her a bag of chips, he plops his laptop in front of her and plops into the seat across from her. “What’s this?” she asks, situating her glasses on her face.
“Velasco’s notes. He's looking for the husband.”
"Well, no one just disappears off the face of the earth."
"No friends, no family of his own." Fin shrugs a shoulder. "It's possible, Liv."
"Is he using social med--"
"Of course he is. That's his thing. I bet he could solve this whole crime using Instagram or something."
Olivia smiles at the rare compliment as she scans the notes before her. It looks good, so she turns her real attention to the potato chips. “We should really get back to your place, Fin. You left your wife to host so many people—“
“Not that many people,” he insists. “They’re mostly her family anyway. You and Noah are the only ones coming from my side. Ken is with his in-laws.”
“Oh. It doesn’t sound like you wanted to be there.”
“You picking up on that?” Fin laughs. “Noah’s probably having the time of his life.”
“You’re gonna have to warm up to Velasco, you know,” Olivia says softly, pointing to the man sitting alone in the squad room.
“I think I have.”
Her face scrunches. “Have you?”
Fin chuckles. “Give us a year.”
“A year is insane, Fin. Give him a break.” Olivia smirks to herself, realizing that of all the people she started in this department with, she’s never thought it’d be her and Fin as the last men standing. She never imagined she’d be the one to be sitting in the Captain's office with Fin as her second in command. “I’m thankful for you, you know that?”
“Don’t get emo—“
The phone rings cutting him off and her eyes read quickly that the desk sergeant is calling. One weary look at the phone before she’s picking it up and greeting him all while holding her breath. Please don’t be another case. “Hey.”
“Hey, Cap. I know you said you’re not here—"
“I’m not,” she insists, smiling into the phone.
He laughs. “Well, I have Stabler here to see you. Somehow he knows you’re here…”
“Stabler?” she repeats. It’s been weeks and now he’s here at her precinct…as Stabler? “Send him in,” she orders softly. He must’ve called in, or maybe called Fin? How’d he know she was working today? “You told him we were here,” she accuses, eyeing the snitch seated across from her.
“Sent him a Happy Thanksgiving text earlier and by the time he responded we were already here. Said he was working and I may have mentioned we were, too.”
Her mouth is still dropped open when she hears two knocks on the door before it’s opening. It doesn’t give her nearly enough time to recover from the sudden news that he’s home, that he’s here, that he’s here because of Fin.
Fin stands to hug him first and she’s still stuck behind her desk as they catch up quickly. I’m home, she hears him say. Came back a couple of days ago, a week maybe? Just settling in.
Good to see you, Fin responds.
A week. She licks her lips and takes a deep breath. Shutting Fin’s laptop, she stands to her feet and when both men turn to look at her with big smiles, she’s lost. She keeps her eyes trained on Fin and silently, she offers him his laptop.
“Thanks.” Fin gives her a look. Be nice. He smiles apologetically at her before he’s patting Elliot on the shoulder, and leaves silently. He leaves Elliot standing there smack dab in the middle of her office. Not Eddie Wagner— Elliot. There’s no big beard or giant boots— just Elliot. In fact, he’s got his badge attached to his coat and she makes out the outline of his holster.
It’s really him.
“Hi,” his deep voice finally offers her, once the door is closed. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she gives up and shakes her head. “Happy Thanksgiving, Liv.”
“It’s been more than a week,” she says softly. She’d heard… and she’d been keeping tabs on him and the case and she’s known he was home. She could’ve made that first move, she could’ve stopped by, given him a call but it felt like overstepping. So she didn’t. She gave him the space to reach out to her and it’d taken a full two weeks.
“Yeah sorry about that.” His shoulders straighten and he tilts his head back like he’s waiting for her attack. Like he’d prepared for it.
He’s got a large brown paper bag in one hand and he squeezes it, making it crinkle, the one and only sound in the room. He’s home and finally, she can unload on him and it is what he deserves but it’s also Thanksgiving, and... he looks so, so handsome standing here in her office.
She could give him a hard time, easily, but the holidays have made her soft. Pointing, she asks, “What’s in the bag?”
“Leftovers. Courtesy of Bernie.”
She smiles finally, nodding. “I was having chips for dinner.”
“Chips? On Thanksgiving?”
“Tell me about it.”
“Did you eat? Or were you working?” She motions toward his clothes, at the navy overcoat and the three-piece suit underneath.
“Working,” he answers with a smile. “I got home around 4 and the girls asked if you were working, too, and if you’d eaten.”
“And what’d they say when you told them you hadn’t spoken to me yet?”
Their eyes lock at her obvious jab.
“And so I called Fin,” he continues, choosing to ignore it. “Was hoping we could eat?”
One final test, she thinks, sitting down in her chair, scooting forward. “Bring dessert?”
“An entire pie,” he answers.
“Good.” With that, she begins clearing her desk and in her peripheral, she sees his shoulders deflate, like he’d been holding his breath from the moment he stepped into the precinct.
He places the large bag in the middle of her desk, clears his throat, and casually says, “Thought being the boss meant you get to duck out early?”
“You thought wrong my friend,” she says, removing her glasses from her face. “Let's eat!”
—
She tries not to look at him and he feels it every time she fails and stares at him. It's embarrassing for him, feeling on full display. He's just shaved the beard off his face and his head is clean-shaven so he feels oddly exposed. Olivia leans back in her chair before she says finally, “Looking good, Stabler.”
“You think so?” he asks, looking down at his suit. His coat is hanging by the door and all of her papers are pushed to the side so that they can eat comfortably across from each other.
“Haven’t seen you dressed so nice in a while.”
“I thought you liked the,” he waves over his chest. It’s usually exposed— the ridges of his pecs, the symbol of Jesus Christ hanging there and a peek of hair. Today it’s completely covered with a tie that compliments his shirt.
“Who told you that?” Olivia asks, arching an eyebrow at him.
“You didn’t have to tell me anything.”
Olivia smirks, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Sounds like you’re making a lot of assumptions over there.”
His mother has never been big on tradition and while Elliot has no idea what she’s packed for them, the last thing he expects to find under the entire pie he’d snagged, are cartons of Chinese food. “Liv— again... Bernie, she... this is Chinese food.”
Olivia laughs at him standing there with a white carton and a pumpkin pie. “Ahh a Stabler family recipe passed down generations,” she jokes. “And I thought my household was untraditional," she muses. "Let me grab some plates,” Olivia says with a chuckle. She laughs to herself at the idea of Bernie packing this bag with the intention of them sharing it together. His mother. What is that about? She doesn’t get the feeling that Bernie dislikes her, none at all— but is she trying to set them up? Everyone these days is trying to set her up with someone.
She’s halfway to the kitchen before Fin stops her.
“Phoebe is going to drop Noah off and bring me a plate of food if that’s ok?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect actually.”
“Y’all straight?”
She offers him a thin smile. “We’re getting there...”
“Cool.”
When she gets back to her office, Elliot cranes his neck to watch her walk the entire way back to her desk. His head turns and follows her the entire way, watching until she's seated in front of him again. “What?” she asks, clearly noticing.
“You look good in jeans.”
Olivia chuckles but says nothing. In the middle of the desk, there are fortune cookies. She takes one, reads it quickly before laughing to herself.
“What?”
“Nothing.” But she’s still smiling. He reaches between them, snags the strip of paper easily from her as she chomps down on the crunchy cookie. He reads it and his smile mimics hers.
A new romance is in your future.
“That isn’t ‘nothing.’”
“What? You believe in those things?”
“When they’re in my favor, yes.”
In his favor. Smooth, Stabler. “Congratulations on your case,” Olivia says changing the subject. Elliot nods, sighs heavily, and shifts uncomfortably. It’s something she shouldn’t ignore but does anyway. One day when they aren’t tiptoeing around each other, she will ask. Tonight, Olivia offers with her most teasing tone: “So Angela Wheatley, Flutura Briscu? All your detective work includes having women fall for you?”
He laughs, pausing from dispersing the food onto the plates she provided. He locks eyes with hers. “No one busts my balls like you Benson.”
“I think I’m the only person not busting your balls, Stabler,” she responds sweetly, making him laugh louder.
He shares the food out between them and when he's finally seated, his face has turned serious. “I know you’ve got a lot to say to me,” he says, once he’s settled.
“As I should.”
“And I know I deserve—“
“I don’t even want to go there.”
“Where would you like to start? There are dozens of things I’m sorry for. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I gave you the letter.”
She nods.
“I thought you were happy and that I'd be interrupting your life and I didn't want that. Fin mentioned you moved on, you have a son now. Things are different...”
“All true. None of those things change who we were to each other. Who we are to each other.”
“Is there a man? In your life?”
“No.”
“Good. Okay.” His smile is almost blinding. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah, Benson. Good.”
“I could still be at Fin's but I left,” Olivia admits suddenly. “I left because his sister-in-law was there, and she’s beautiful.” Elliot looks clueless so she clears her throat, prepares herself for a painful dose of honesty. “And Fin mentioned hooking you guys up and I... didn’t even want to be in a room with her.”
“Never even met her, Liv.”
Phew! she wants to say. It's a relief and how she manages to maintain a straight face, she doesn't know. She's happy he's never met this woman and he's happy she isn't dating and somewhere in the back of her mind, she catalogs this moment as a tipping point.
“El, I feel like we're about to have a moment... but before we can have that moment, I think we need to address the letter."
“Liv,” he whispers, his face falling serious.
“So,” she cuts him off, pushing herself away from her desk, to the printer situated behind her. She grabs a slip of computer paper and slides it across the desk to him. “Fix it.”
He chuckles, disbelief written across his face. “You want me to write a… retraction?”
“Yes,” she answers offering him an ink pen. “Go on.”
“Don’t you think this is a lot of pressure?”
“Not for a man who just lived undercover for however many months. I saw you in action. This should be easy.”
“This,” he waves the blank paper in front of them, “is different.”
She crosses her arms and looks at him directly in his eyes. “What? Listen I know we are in a good place right now… or a calm place even,” she amends softly. “I just have to be honest with you. That letter was… awful.” He goes to speak, to defend himself she thinks, so she adds quickly, “I’m not angry. I just don’t want to dance around this anymore.”
“Fine.” Elliot gulps. If this is what she needs, as silly as it feels, he’ll give it to her. He pushes his plate away, wheels himself closer to the desk as he prepares to write but just as he goes to his pen stalls.
“What? Do you need some privacy?” she asks. "Cause I'll give you that."
"I'm used to you looking at me."
She shrugs a shoulder and reaches for his plate of food, opting for the shrimp-fried rice instead of the noodles she has on her own plate. He smirks to himself as she eats his food and tries to ignore the way that it use to drive him crazy when they were partners.
After a beat, he begins quickly scribbling out three sentences before he's offering the paper to her.
Liv, I can never express how sorry I am or how much I have loved you since the moment we met. There are no words. There is nothing but what I feel for you. El
“I’m sorry, Liv,” he says grabbing her hands from across the makeshift table, anchoring her. She's thankful for it because she feels like she'll float away.
He isn’t a poet. The letter isn’t much. But what he says is enough.
“Let me prove to you what I’ve always felt for you since I’m horrible with words… I already told you I loved you, I meant it. I know my delivery wasn’t the best but you know me..” He nudges her foot under the desk and it brings her back to her office, back into her body just in time to wipe a tear from her eye. “I think you’ve figured out how much I love you and why I had to leave you.”
"I-"
Her door flies open and Noah charges in, a big smile on his lips until he finds that his mother isn't alone. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, waving at Elliot, still walking toward his mother. "I thought we were going home!" he says to her, trying and failing at whispering.
"We are, honey. Get over here!" She holds an arm out to him, greeting him with a hug when he's close enough. "I'm ready. Hope you didn't miss me too much."
"I always miss you."
"Aw," Olivia beams at him, before she's shifting his attention. "This is Elliot."
"Hi," Noah says, leaning on the arm of Olivia's chair. "I'm Noah."
Elliot smiles. "Hey, Noah. Nice to meet you."
She doesn't know what to do with herself, having the most important men in her life finally meeting. She'd expected more. Questions or an explanation, but Noah is much more interested in what his mother and her friend are eating while he had been forced to eat turkey and cranberry sauce. "Chinese for Thanksgiving? We did that last year!"
Olivia elbows him lightly. "Noah."
He shrugs. "We did. Hey, Elliot. Mind if I have that eggroll?"
"It's yours," Elliot says, leaning across the desk, handing over the eggroll. "So tell me, Noah... is Chinese food on Thanksgiving a Benson family tradition?"