Chapter Text
They’re three drinks in which is an anomaly. Even with Olivia having a obligatory, responsible glass of water in between, she’s still affected. Affected meaning loose and fun. Affected meaning they’re meandering through topics at this quiet bar, all light, quick, and flirty.
“She's just got the one?” Elliot asks, taking a sip of his bourbon.
They’ve figuratively spun the wheel of topics and, for the moment, landed on Rollins.
“Nicky’s three.”
He raises his eyebrows for half a second, Olivia clocks it.
“Surprised?”
“I can see her with maybe two but three, ” He comically grimaces, “For her, seems steep.”
“Because she works?” Olivia asks pointedly.
There’s a bit of a shiv in there about stay-at-home moms, he avoids it.
“Nah, just she doesn’t read as super—motherly.”
“Define “motherly ” for me, please.”
He laughs.
“There’s many kinds of mothers, Elliot.”
He spins towards her on his bar stool, smiling. Between his dead wife, his mother, Olivia, all the women he’s met in his career, his life—god knows he, Elliot Stabler, knows there are many kinds of mothers.
“I’m just sayin’! She’s got that restless cop energy. I can’t see her loving, you know—bath time routines.”
Olivia considers this, then grins, “That’s why she’s got Carisi.”
“I know,” Elliot agrees, while his eyes do a slow sweep of Olivia.
Her perfectly curled hair is starting to go awry. Her knees are sneaking between his spread legs, "That’s very easy to see.”
She matches his energy, placing her hands on his thighs, slowly sweeping them down and back up, “What is?”
Elliot quirks a smile, reveling in the languid, loveliness of her hands on him. If he had it his way, they’d never stop touching, “He’s obsessed with her.”
She hums in agreement, seemingly enjoying feeling him just as much as he’s enjoying it, “Can I ask you a question? Unrelated.”
“Anything,” He smirks, “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
She tries to pinch at his thigh, “What position do you think is best.. for making a baby?”
“What?”
“In your expertise.”
“I don’t know!” He laughs.
“Ok,” Olivia shrugs, sliding her hands away from his thighs.
“No, no, no,” He wraps his hands right underneath her elbows, dragging her back to him, “Let me think.”
And then he does, eyes wandering around the bar, “You know, it’s less the position and more the uh, tonality of the coupling.”
“The tonality ?” She repeats, “Who are you?”
“I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman.”
“For who?”
For who is right. Because every time he’s been what he, and what he assumes the rest of the world, would call a gentleman with her—nice jewelry, patient invitations, patience in general—their thing coasted into flatlining. What finally got their thing off the ground was in the midst of a nasty fight during a joint op he shoved her against a wall and didn’t so much kiss but devour her.
“Liv,” He whines.
“Elliot,” She fake whines back.
He sighs, conceding, “It’s the feeling behind it. I was—into it.”
“Yes, you would have to be into it to make a baby.”
“Alright, let’s go home.”
He starts to lift himself off the barstool but her hands on his thighs clap him back down. He’s always equal parts surprised by her strength and turned on. She towers over him just a bit, her hair brushing his cheek.
“I’ll give you something good, if you answer me.”
He raises his stare from her manicured burgundy nails digging into his thighs to her mischievous brown eyes.
Her time having the upper hand is up.
He combs her hair back, off one ear, leans in, “The babies I planned…I was very into making.”
He feels her shiver and it courses through him like a high school football victory, he sucks a kiss into her jawline, “I’d keep you in bed for a week.”
Could be the drinks, could be his mouth, but he feels her wobble, he slides his hand to her thigh bringing her back down to her stool.
She shakes her head, “You.You.”
“Hmmm?” He asks with the utmost faux innocence.
She pulls her hair back from her face with her fingers like he was just doing, huffs out a breath and side eyes him.
He waits her out, pulling her stool in as close as it will go between his legs.
She picks up her refilled glass of water, nearly downs it, exhales.
“Three.”
“Hmm?”
“In a parallel universe,” She nods to herself, “Three.”
It takes him a second, but only a second, until he counters, “Six.”
“Six?” She exclaims, wide-eyed.
“Every two years.”
“Starting at what age?” She laughs.
“When you say go.”
“There’s no way, Stabler. I like to work.”
He wants to stay in this with her, this fantasy, “No, no realities.”
“Every two years,” She weighs that, “I’d be pregnant, all the time.”
He lifts his hand to massage her nape, “I like that.”
“What? Me huge and uncomfortable?”
He knows to think before he speaks, but he also needs to stop for a moment to tread lightly, to not reveal one of his… things.
“It’s only towards the end,” He licks his bottom lip, “I’d get you to sleep.”
She eyes him. A detective, detecting. And he sees when it dawns.
“Wait a minute,” She pulls back from nearly being in his lap, “This is a kink. You have a kink!”
He feels himself blush, “It’s not,” He shrugs, “Come back over here.”
He pulls one of her long legs back between his, “I just—I think it's sexy.”
“All pregnant women?”
"No," He squeezes her leg tightly, "Just mine, baby."
TBD