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A/N: Part of the "A Thing or Two About..." series. Established EO.
Olivia looks around the apartment and sighs contentedly, propping her feet on the coffee table.
This is their third Christmas Eve together, her third time tucking presents under the tree with Elliot’s help; her third triple batch of monkey bread, prepped and stuffed into two big casserole dishes, waiting to go in the oven tomorrow morning. Everyone will be here; all six kids, a significant other here and there, two grandkids, and Bernie.
It’s nearly eleven o’clock, and it’s quiet. She’d sent Elliot to bed an hour ago, after watching him try and fail to stay awake while she set up the kitchen, and she imagines he’d completely passed out in their bed within two minutes.
For her, there’s still a childlike excitement that comes with Christmas, especially now. Noah had brought the magic of it back for her, first, and now, their perfect little family is part of a bigger family. Welcomed, into that bigger family, in a way she never could have predicted.
She’s turned all the lights off except for the Christmas tree, and the other strings of lights strung up around the apartment. Taking a sip of peppermint tea, she clicks the television on and finds A Christmas Story; it’s always been her favorite.
About ten minutes later, Eli shuffles down the hallway, pausing when he finds her in the living room.
“Hey,” she says softly, smiling, “You’re still up.”
“Just wanted something to drink,” he gestures, shuffling toward the kitchen, “Dad asleep?”
She snorts. “He was half-asleep for an hour before I finally told him to go to bed.”
Eli grins, and she turns to watch him open the fridge and bend to look inside for a few seconds.
“You want a hot cocoa?” she asks, setting her tea aside.
He closes the fridge and raises his eyebrows. “Do you want a hot cocoa?”
“Well, not if you don’t,” Olivia says, grinning at his teasing.
“Sure,” he smirks, nodding, “Sounds great.”
It’s well-known in the Benson-Stabler household that with the first wisp of cold air, Olivia becomes a hot cocoa fiend. It’s also a well-known fact that she doesn’t like to drink it alone, prefers to share it if she can, and is always looking for takers when she starts a pot.
Luckily, the apartment is often full, and her recipe is damn good.
“Good,” she says happily, climbing off the couch, “Sit. Talk to me. Haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“Just busy with winter finals,” he sighs, sliding onto a stool at the island.
She grabs the gallon of whole milk from the fridge. “Yeah? How’d you feel about them?”
“Chem was hard,” he says, rubbing his eyes, “But I think I did okay. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you either.”
She pulls a face. “I know. Case was really bad, I don’t want to talk about it. Hey, thanks for hanging out with Noah today.”
“Sure,” he shrugs, smiling a little, “We just ended up playing video games all day.”
Liv rolls her eyes, whisking her homemade cocoa mix, adding a few pieces of dark chocolate. “I figured. But, seriously, I appreciate it. I don’t—I know you have your own things to do—“
“Liv, it’s fine,” Eli interrupts, shaking his head, “I don’t care, seriously. You guys have lived here for, like, years. If I cared, I’d just tell you.”
“Okay,” she says softly, smiling a little, “I have a movie on over there, you wanna watch for a while? I’ll bring this over.”
“Sure,” he sighs, standing up and stretching.
He’s filling out, now, she notices, glancing at his back as he walks over to the couch. He’s not built like Elliot; he’s leaner, half an inch taller than his dad now. But sometimes, they’re so alike it takes her breath away, in their mannerisms, their expressions while they’re listening to someone.
Her dynamic with Eli is easy now, comfortable and familiar. He’s more expressive than his father, a generational difference, but he’s still not one to share without a little prodding, typical teenage boy. She doesn’t ‘mother’ him, she’s careful about that, because he has a mother. But he’ll bring her a stained soccer jersey to ask for help getting it clean, and he likes her to go over his essays for school, because she’s a good writer. When he leaves dishes in his room and cops an attitude about picking them up, she can raise her eyebrows at him without fear of retribution.
He gives her a look when she hands him his hot cocoa.
“Liv, I’m seventeen,” he chuckles, looking down at the scoop of marshmallow fluff floating in it, sprinkled with red and green sugar.
“Shush,” she grins, poking him playfully, “It’s Christmas. We’re festive.”
He shakes his head, smiling in spite of himself. “Okay, sure.”
Olivia unmutes the television and takes a sip of cocoa, finding the remote that Dickie’s rigged up for them and squinting at it, finding the button that turns off the kitchen lights. Sighing, she smiles as Ralphie’s little brother starts to shriek about not being able to put his arms down.
“You like this one?” she asks, glancing at him.
She does a double take, because he has a strange look on his face, all of a sudden. After a second, he realizes she’s looking at him, and he drinks his cocoa, clearing his throat.
“I, uh—“ he stops, brows furrowing, “I used to watch this with Mom, actually. Dad hates this movie.”
Liv pauses for a second, softening whenever he chooses to share something with her.
“He does,” she agrees, smiling gently, “I love it. Probably my favorite.”
“Me too,” Eli agrees, clearing his throat, “Mom, too. I haven't really watched it, without her.”
Holidays are hard, she knows from experience. There are parts that are still hard for her, decades later, and it's only been five years for him.
The parallel isn’t lost on her, sitting here with another woman’s son, watching a movie that had been special for the two of them, and she thinks for a few seconds, choosing her words carefully.
“You want to watch something else?”
Eli shakes his head, eyes focused on the movie. “No.”
She pauses again, still not sure what the least painful route through this is, for him.
“You want me to leave you alone to watch?” she asks quietly, offering him space instead.
This time he looks over at her, shaking his head again. “No.”
“Okay,” she murmurs, reassuring him, “Just making sure.”
She takes a breath, and tries to settle into watching the movie again. He doesn’t seem to want her to go anywhere, and he doesn’t want to stop watching, so maybe this is what it is. Just a moment to remember.
“She’d be cool with it, I think,” he says quietly, looking down into his cup.
Olivia swallows and looks over at him, tipping her head.
“My mom,” Eli says, nodding a little, “I think, she’d want me to keep watching it. And to watch it with someone who actually likes it, like she did. And, I think, if I told her I wanted that person to be you…she’d be cool with that.”
She smiles gently, and reaches over to stroke his arm. “Thanks for saying that. I’m just—I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry she’s not here.”
He looks away for a second, wipes a sleeve over his cheek. “Yeah.”
She sets her cocoa down, and reaches over to take his, setting them both on the coffee table. Before he can say anything, she scoots closer and pulls him into a hug, because sometimes, words are useless. Because he’s still a kid, and his grief is still very present, and…he needs a hug. He’s limp for a second, but then he hugs her back; really hugs her, one of just a handful they’ve shared over the years.
After a few seconds, she pulls away and looks at him with what she hopes is a reassuring expression.
“Okay,” she sighs, reaching for their mugs, “Well. I think we’ve established that we both love this movie. So, should we watch?”
“Yeah,” Eli agrees, smiling a little.
Elliot rolls over, still half-asleep, and reaches for her out of habit. The bed is big, and sometimes she’s rolled away from him in the night, far enough that he can’t feel her warmth anymore. He reaches out with his arm, and then his leg, but he’s met with cold sheets. He opens his eyes, blinking until they focus, and glances at the clock.
Two-fifteen in the morning.
What the—
He rolls onto his back and rubs his face, blinking into the darkness. Faintly, he can hear the television still on in the living room, and he realizes she’s probably fallen asleep on the couch, which is going to wreck her back. He throws the covers back, wincing as his bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor, and shuffles toward the bedroom door, out to the living room. When he comes around the corner, he has to blink a few times to make sure he’s actually awake.
Olivia’s asleep on the couch, half-sitting up, cheek resting against her open palm, elbow propped on the arm of the couch. There’s a pillow on her lap, and Eli’s sound asleep on it, on his back, arm dangling over the side of the couch. Two empty mugs are sitting on the coffee table.
Oh.
It’s not the two of them haven’t gotten along, even gotten closer, but…this is new.
Elliot stares for close to a minute, memorizing.
But, it’s late, and sleep is still pulling heavily at him, and he can’t let her sleep with her neck like that much longer.
He shuffles over quietly, and bends to her, gently rubbing her arm.
“Hey…Liv…sweetheart—“
She pulls a breath in through her nose and wakes up, confused for a second until she finds his eyes, smiling.
“Hey,” she whispers, stretching her neck, “We fell asleep.”
He kisses her forehead. “Yeah. Let’s go to bed. Here.”
Elliot grasps both sides of the pillow, and lifts Eli’s sleeping form up enough that she can slide out from under him.
“Should we try to wake him up?” she wonders, grimacing as both hands immediately go to her back, stretching carefully.
He snorts, opening the throw blanket on the back of the couch, draping it over his son. “Yeah, okay.”
“We’ll let Kieran and Seamus jump on him in the morning,” she whispers, grinning at the thought of Maureen’s boys waking their uncle on Christmas.
She wraps herself around him as they walk to their bedroom, pressing a yawn into his chest, closing her eyes and trusting him to pull her along. Once they’re inside with the door closed, she pulls her sweatshirt off and climbs into bed with a long sigh, stretching out on her back, arms over her head. He gets in next to her and slides in close, leaning over her. The novelty of sharing a bed with her, soft and rumpled and sleepy, is nowhere near wearing off.
She looks up at him, sighing as he rubs a warm palm over her belly, up and down her side, just touching; he does this sometimes, not because he wants to start anything, just because he needs something tangible to remind him that she’s really here, that she’s really his. Tonight, the soothing strokes are quickly putting her to sleep, and she lazily wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down into a kiss, warm and sweet.
“I love you,” he murmurs, voice raspy with sleep, “I tell you that enough? I love you.”
“Yeah, you do,” she whispers, smiling sleepily, “I love you, too.”
To all a good night.
A/N: Happy Holidays! I really wanted more Eli/Liv after those episodes. Thank you for reading!