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Poker Night & Girls' Night Out

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She’s not quite sure what to wear. The Stabler women have decided that they need a “Girls’ Night Out” while the Stabler men play poker. Elliot invited Olivia and Noah to stay at his place this weekend, so Noah could participate in his inaugural Stabler Guy’s Poker Night.


And now, she’s standing in Elliot’s bedroom trying to decide whether jeans or a dress would be appropriate for the evening. She’s never been to this new bar that Liz picked out. And well, she’d not been out to a bar for girls’ night in a long time. 


Elliot steps into his room, closing the door behind him so softly that she doesn’t hear it. Olivia picks up a shirt and holds it up in front of her and moves to stand in front of the mirror. She should be surprised, but she sees Elliot in the mirror, smiling at her.


“No, not that one,” Elliot says, taking the few steps necessary to stand behind her, placing his hands on her waist.


“Really? I like this shirt,” Olivia says looking down and then back in the mirror to see his face.


“It’s a nice shirt, you look beautiful in it. But I think Kathleen said something about dancing. You are going to want something a little cooler, sleeveless maybe?” He tells her, kissing her shoulder, then her neck.


“Dancing? No one said anything about dancing,” Olivia sighs, leaning her head back to rest against Elliot’s shoulder, nuzzling her cheek against his. 


“They didn’t want to scare you away.”


“I wish they would have told me. I don’t have any shoes for dancing,” she complains.


“Is your ankle still bothering you?” he asks her, concern in his eyes.


“It’s not too bad now, “she tells him, “but wet bar floors and jostling people. You never know.”


“Hmmm,” Elliot hums against her neck, “I’ll tell them that you don’t want to dance.”


“No, no, I will be fine,” Olivia turns in his arms.


“You sure?”


“Mmm hmm,” she hums as she leans in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, “Now get out of here so I can change.”


“I can help you with that,” he teases as he moves the hem of her shirt up over her belly, tickling the soft skin he finds there.


“Uh, uh, uh. Not now,” she scolds with a soft tap on his hands. She knows that if he starts now, they won’t stop until they are interrupted by one of their kids or Bernie.


“Fine,” he kisses her quickly once more, “I’m going to take a quick shower and shave.”


Elliot leaves Olivia to finish getting ready. On his way to the bathroom, he stops by Eli’s room to check on the boys. 


“Hey guys, Dickie and Carl will be here in about half an hour,” Elliot tells them. He knows that his oldest son prefers to go by “Richie or Rich” now, but it’s an old habit that he can’t seem to shake, though he's not ever tried that hard – he’d picked out the nickname Dickie and that’s what he wanted to call his son. 


“K, dad,” Eli replies, not taking his eyes off his iPad. 


“Do you need anything Noah?”


“No, I’m fine,” Noah answers, his nose in a book.


“Good deal bud. I’m going to take shower, but your mom should be out in a minute.”


“Okay, thanks.”



About ten minutes later, Elliot steps out of the shower, towel around his waist. He swipes at the mirror with his hand, but the fog just reappears a few seconds later, so he cracks the bathroom door to let out the heat. Grabbing the hand towel hanging next to the sink, Elliot wipes at the mirror again. The fog is slower to regrow.


Shaking his head, he just starts filling the sink with warm water and digs for his razor and shaving cream in the cabinet above the sink. 


The third time Elliot swipes at the mirror, he sees Noah standing, looking through the small opening in the door behind him. He turns to face the door, “Do you need to use the bathroom?”


“No,” Noah answers softly, shaking his head.


“Everything okay?”


Noah nods, and Elliot can see that the young boy might be holding something back.


“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Elliot urges. He and Noah had been getting along really well, but he wanted to make sure knew that he could always come to Elliot with anything.


“Umm you...are you going to shave?” Noah asks, pointing to the razor and shaving cream on the sink.




“Can I, um…can I watch?” Noah’s voice is so quiet, and it’s not helped that he’s looking at his feet, that Elliot almost doesn’t hear him. 


Oh. Elliot realizes that Noah might have never seen a man shave. He knows that Olivia dated, even seriously, when Noah was younger, but he doubts that Noah remembers ever watching Ed (Elliot shudders) shaving. And he remembers how his boys, both Dickie and Eli, were fascinated with shaving when they were around Noah’s age. They were really understanding the difference between men and women, and were growing excited to be men, which included the manly art of shaving. Of course, neither of them really needed to shave for several years later. Noah, like his own sons, won’t need to use a razor for another five years or so. But it was always a great bonding experience to let them watch.


“Sure, come on in,” Elliot answers, opening the door wider to let Noah in.


Noah walks into the room, a little uncertain. He’s really grown to like Elliot, he’s drawn to him for some reason, and he feels like he can trust him. He can tell that Elliot loves his own children, and Noah knows that Elliot loves his mother and seems to like spending time with him. He’s patient and funny and talks to him about dance. But, he can tell that Elliot is a tough guy, a traditional guy and he isn’t sure whether Elliot really wants him in the bathroom right now. 


Sensing Noah’s apprehension, Elliot offers, “You know, Noah, Eli used to watch me shave at least once a week when he was around your age.”




“And it’s a good idea for you too,” Elliot ruffles Noah’s hair, “Soon you’d need to shave.” 


Noah just smiles, and Elliot directs him to sit on the toilet. The mirror is clear now, so Elliot wets his face, then lathers his chin and spreads the shaving cream. He looks over to see Noah watching him with rapt attention. 


He grins as he dips the razor in the warm water in the sink, and carefully glides the sharp blades over his cheek. He gets a few swipes in before he hears “Elliot?”


Looking at Noah out of the corner of his eye, he asks, “Yea bud?”


“Do you shave your head, too?”


Elliot chuckles at this, dipping his razor in water again, he answers “Yea, I do.”


“Why? Don’t you have hair? I mean, if you have to shave, it means you have hair, right?”


Elliot can’t really argue with the kid’s logic. “I have some hair, but it doesn’t grow all over my head.” 


Noah looks at him skeptically. 


“Look,” Elliot ducks his head and Noah stands to look, “See there?” he asks, roughly tracing his hairline. “Over the years my hair stopped growing on the top and thinned out on the sides?”


“Why did it do that?”


“I don’t know,” he shrugs, as he stands up straight, “genetics I guess. My mom’s dad had the same hairline. I must have inherited it from him.”


“Oh,” Noah says softly, and then after a contemplative pause, “I don’t know what my hair will do, I don’t know anything about my birth mom’s dad.”


Elliot swallows before turning back to Noah. He knew that Olivia had adopted Noah when he was just over a year old. And he knew that Noah knew he was adopted. He knows the topic is not taboo, but he’s never had a one-on-one conversation with Noah about his adoption, birth parents, or genetics. He knows from his own experience, and from his time being Olivia’s partner, that genetics and bloodlines are always precarious topics. 


“Well bud, I don’t know about him either, but looking at your hair now, I think you’re safe,” he reassures the boy with a gentle smile. 


“That’s good. Because, no offense, I don’t want to be bald.”


Elliot laughs as he turns back to the mirror, genuinely tickled by Noah’s response and in relief that the conversation was going well. “I don’t blame you kid. Especially with curls like that, girls will likely be falling at your feet soon.”


Noah doesn’t say anything, but Elliot can sense some tension in the air and knows that Noah has more on his mind. Taking another swipe with the razor around his jaw, he asks, “What is it Noah?”


Noah thinks for a moment. He knows what he wants to ask, what he wants to reveal to Elliot, but his nerves are on edge. “Um, do you think that…um, boys will like my curls too?”


Elliot turns to look at Noah once again, his head cocked to the side. He sees that Noah’s looking at his feet, wringing his fingers anxiously, and he knows he must have heard the boy correctly.


Realizing that he’d inadvertently stumbled into a second delicate topic in less than five minutes, Elliot knows he’s going to need to think quickly. He lowers himself to one knee and using a gentle finger, he tips Noah’s face up to look at his own, still half covered in shaving cream. 


“Noah, do you like boys?”


“Yea…and girls, too,” he admits softly.


“And you know that’s okay, right?”


Noah gives a small, imperceptible nod. He does know that there is nothing wrong with liking boys and girls. His mom had made sure that he’s always known that; that it’s important to live your truth. But he hasn’t spent enough time with Elliot to know, really know what Elliot’s perspective is.


“It’s perfectly fine to like boys and girls, you know that, right?” Elliot says again, with more emphasis.


Noah nods again. 


“And we – your mom, me, and everyone in my family – we don’t care whether you like boys, girls, or both, okay? We like you…love you, just the same, okay?” 


Noah holds Elliot’s gaze for a moment, reading his face – seeing an intense honesty reflected in the older man’s blue eyes, before he nods a third time. 


“Okay then,” Elliot stands, knees popping, looking back down at Noah, “And yes, I think there are plenty of boys out there that will love your curls. And your cool dance moves.” 


Noah relaxes and smiles back at Elliot. Elliot resumes shaving, waiting for the next shoe to drop. But Noah’s concerns seem to be assuaged. 


Elliot’s almost done and is about to dip his head to rinse his face once more when Noah speaks up again.






“Are you going to be with my mom for a long time?”


“I want to be, bud. I love her very much and want to spend the rest of my life with her…and you,” Elliot answers, and then rinses the last bit of the cream from his face. “Is that okay with you?”


“Yea…Um…will you be around to show me how to shave?”


“I plan on it. Because, as great as your mom is, I don’t know if she knows how to shave a face.”


Noah laughs at the thought of his mom shaving a beard on her chin.


Elliot follows up with, “Do you want to start now?”


“What? How? I don’t have any hair?” Noah questions, rubbing his hands over his cheeks. 


“There are ways,” Elliot answers with a grin.



Olivia steps out of Elliot’s room about twenty minutes after Elliot left her to go shower, and after peeking into Eli’s room to see that Noah was not in there, she walks into the kitchen. “Hey Bernie, have you seen Noah?”


“He’s in the bathroom with Elliot dear,” Bernie answers, nodding her head towards the bathroom door without stopping her snack preparations for the upcoming poker game. 


Olivia hears a giggle coming from the bathroom and takes the few remaining steps to the bathroom and pushes open the already cracked door. The scene in front of her nearly makes her cry.


Noah is sitting on the sink, facing the mirror with a face full of shaving cream. Elliot stands behind him, a dark towel wrapped around his hips, and he’s showing Noah how to hold a razor. 


Olivia clocks the cover on the razor, and that allows her to stay quiet and just watch the interaction.


“Okay Noah, I’m going to guide your hand the first few times so you can feel it, then you can do it on your own.”


“Okay,” Noah answers, nodding excitedly. 


“Hold still,” Elliot instructions and wait for Noah’s head to stop moving before starting again, “You will press at the top of the hair line, and gently but firmly pull the blade down. Do you feel that?”


“Yea, and it feels weird.”


“I know. It will be even weirder when you have hair there, but you will get used to it.”


“How old were you when you started shaving?”


“Um, I think I was about 15. Dickie, my oldest son, was closer to 17, and I think Eli likes to shave his peach fuzz.”


“Peach fuzz?” Noah giggles at the characterization.


“Yea, it’s really soft hair that grows in thicker before the coarser hair grows. That’s what you’ll get first and you can practice shaving that hair.”


“Until then, can I practice like this?” Noah asks, holding up the razor covered with the white foam.


Elliot takes the razor and rinses it before handing it back to Noah, “You bet. We can practice any time you want.”


Olivia doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t want to interrupt this moment of bonding. But she’d be lying if she didn’t acknowledge, at least to herself, that seeing Elliot like this with her son, her sweet boy, didn’t scare her a bit. She doesn’t want Elliot to break any promises to Noah by leaving. But, she knows that Elliot is staying. He’s promised her several times that he was never leaving again. His family is here; his job is here; and he’s not running from her, from them , any longer. But deep down, in the irrational part of her soul where fear lives, she still has moments of worry. 


But brewing with her fear, is happiness and hope. She’d never thought that Noah would have a solid male role-model, a father-like figure that he could look up to, learn from, and go to with those inevitable boy-to-young-man questions as he got older. And she knows that Elliot is excited to be the one there for Noah. He’s already raised four children, with a fifth one nearly at adulthood now, and loves his two young grandsons. 


“Okay Noah, you do the rest. Practice learning how it feels and how to move your wrist.”


Elliot stands back and watches Noah glide the covered blade over his cheeks, jaw, and neck. “Very good, you are doing great.”


He locks eyes with Olivia in the mirror, and waves her over with his head, whispering “Come take a look mama, see how well he’s doing.”


“Hey mom!” Noah says, seeing Olivia for the first time as she steps up behind him. 


“Hey baby, you are doing a good job. But, I need you to stop growing up so quickly,” she says as she places a gentle hand on his shoulder, not wanting to distract him from the serious job at hand. 


Olivia’s eyes meet Elliot’s in the mirror again and she mouths a quiet, “Thank you.”


He winks and mouths back, “You’re welcome,” then lets his eyes roam over the outfit she picked – dark wash jeans with a light but semi-tight, sleeveless shirt that accentuates her body and a bold necklace – then meets her eyes, mouthing again, “You look great.”



“LIV!!!” Kathleen screeches with her hands tossed up in the air when she sees Olivia in the kitchen, helping Bernie place the last snack plate on the kitchen island. 


“Katie!” Olivia returns her excitement in an exaggerated fashion with a slight chuckle as Kathleen wraps her up in a hug. 


“Sorry, I’m just excited that you are coming with us!”


“I couldn’t tell,” Olivia says in good-natured sarcasm.


“Alright, let’s go! We have dancing and drinking to get to.”


“Okay, let me just say good-bye to Noah.” Olivia steps out of the kitchen to find Noah. When she does, she gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, with a quick warning of “be good, and call me if you need anything.” Which was met with an eye roll and short, “Mom, I’m fine. See you later.”


Elliot snags Olivia before she reaches the kitchen to give her a good-bye kiss away from prying eyes. “See you later, have fun.” 


“You too,” she says as she kisses him again. She meant to keep it quick, but Elliot had other ideas, tilting his head and parting his lips to kiss her a little deeper. His hand slowly makes its way from her low back to grab her ass. It does look really good in those jeans.


“Geeze dad! Save some for later okay,” Richie’s voice interrupts their moment with a laugh as he peers around the corner, and Elliot and Olivia pull away blushing a bit. 


“Gross dad. No one wants to see that,” Eli grimaces as he heads from his room to the kitchen.


“Okay okay, enough,” Elliot grumps, kisses Olivia’s cheek and mutters, “Love ya.” 


“Love you too. See you later.”



About an hour later Olivia found herself sandwiched in a booth between Maureen and Katie while Liz and her girlfriend, Sarah, were on the other side. Katie and Maureen filled her in on the story on the way to the bar.


“They met at a coffee shop,” Maureen started, but Kathleen immediately took over the narrative.


“Total meet-cute! Sarah dropped her coin purse and spilled change all over the floor. And, our sweet and helpful Lizzie helped her pick it up. They got to chatting over their coffees and then exchanged numbers.”


“Liz has been smitten ever since,” Maureen added with a soft grin.


“It’s adorable. And much needed. Her summer has been full of horrible dates from her apps.”


“You’ve both met Sarah, but Liz isn’t ready to bring her home to her dad?” Olivia asked, wondering why Elliot hadn’t mentioned Sarah yet.


“Lizzie’s nervous. She’s never brought home anyone before,” Kathleen says.


“She’s seen how it’s happened with the rest of us, and I think she’s just wanting to make sure it’s right before she subjects someone to the torture that is our dad,” Maureen explains.


“But she wants me to meet her?” Olivia questioned, feelings both shocked and honored. 


“Oh yea! You are totally cool, and you can be a little birdie in dad’s ear, telling him how great Sarah is.”


Ahhhh ,” Olivia said, fully understanding the girls’ motives now.


“No, Olivia, it’s not really like that,” Kathleen continued, “It’s just…you’re so much cooler than dad. You aren’t going to give Sarah that third degree, squeeze her hand too hard, show her his gun collection.”


“Your dad doesn’t have a gun collection,” Olivia noted curiously.


“True, but they never know that,” Kathleen smiled, an ornery smile eerily similar to her dad’s. 


Olivia laughed because she could see Elliot struggling with how to treat Liz’s girlfriend, whether he’d run through all of his normal scare tactics or whether he’d admit that he’s a little too old school when it comes to his daughters.


“It’s fine ladies. I’m excited to meet Sarah and have a good night.”


And she was having a great night. The girls had already decided that they weren’t going to dance, the bar just wasn’t set up for them to “get their groove on,” as Kathleen had put it. Instead, they’d just taken their booth and enjoyed catching up and joking.


“So, Katie, how’s it been going with Joe?” Olivia asks, after Maureen had filled them in on her and Carl’s recent mini vacation. 


Even in the dimly lit bar, Olivia can see the pink creeping onto Kathleen’s cheeks. “That good, huh?” She asks teasingly.


Liz, taking the opportunity to keep the attention on older sister, jumps in, “Oh, it’s going really well, isn’t that right Katie?”


“Liz!” Kathleen exclaims, throwing a damp and crumpled napkin at her sister. 


“What? Weren’t you just telling me the other day that he’s the best sex you’ve had? What was that thing that he does–”


“Stop! I’m serious, don’t!” Katie’s face completely flushed in a deep red. 


Olivia laughs and just sips at her drink, enjoying the ribbing between the two sisters. Having experienced this a few times now, all the sisters together with drinks in their hands, Olivia knew that the conversation would turn to this. The women grew up together, eventually all becoming good friends in adulthood (even though they were often sworn enemies in their teenage years), and not bothered by any subject. She also knew that if she kept her mouth shut that the girls would mock each other, share a little, and then move on without pulling Olivia into the mess. 


That was not the case tonight though. After Liz surrendered, giving up on Kathleen, she turned to Olivia.


“And you?”


“Me? What about me?”


“How’s it going with dad?”


“It’s going well,” Olivia answers, feeling her own cheeks blush a little. 


“That good, huh?” Kathleen repeats Olivia’s earlier words back to her with a little shoulder bump.


“We’re good,” Olivia answers and takes a drink, hoping to end the conversation, but luck was not on her side tonight.


“Oh no Liv, we’ve let you off the hook for a while, but now it’s your turn,” Kathleen tells her.


“My turn?” 


“Yup,” she nods at Olivia, “This is an official girls’ night out, and it’s not a successful one until we gossip about our lives, all parts of our lives.”


“I don’t know girls,” Olivia starts, not really sure how much she can or wants to share. Olivia’s not a prude and usually has no qualms with sharing a few stories from her life, but these are Elliot’s daughters, and she’s known them since they were children and pre-teens. 


“Oh, come on. You don’t get to be shy now. We all remember the Fourth of July,” Kathleen asserts.


“And Eli told us about the afternoon they came over to swim, at your pool,” Liz interjects with a nod. 


“And the shower, Grandma told us about that,” Maureen adds. 


Olivia’s eyes widen, not realizing how much about her and Elliot’s sex life the girls already knew and embarrassed that it appears to have been the subject of quite a few conversations.


Sarah turns to Liz and whispers in her ear, too quiet for the others to hear. But Liz’s answers are not as quiet, much to Olivia’s chagrin.


“Oh, dad and Olivia have a tendency of sneaking away from family events to have afternoon quickies.”


Sarah’s eyes open wide as she turns towards Olivia and lips turn in in an effort to stifle her laughter and using her hand to cover her mouth when she fails, a small giggle making it past her lips. 


“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Olivia says in an effort to stop the conversation. 


It’s Maureen that finally breaks through, “It’s only fair Liv. You’ve heard all about our lives.”


“Exactly, hell, you even watched Maureen’s kids, so she could get some a couple weeks ago,” Kathleen jokes, tipping her glass to her lips. 

“Could you be any cruder, Katie?” Maureen asks agitatedly. 


“Sure can! Olivia, you know while you and dad were babysitting Seamus and Kieran, Maureen and Carl were–”


“Fine!” Olivia holds up her hand, stopping Katie before she can finish her sentence. 


Resigned to her fate, knowing she will not get out of this evening without sharing some salacious detail, Olivia decides that she will let them lead the inquiry. 


She inhales and exhales deeply, “Fine, what do you want to know?”


Smiles spread across each of the girls’ faces. 


“Don’t worry Liv, we don’t want all the bawdy details… this time . We just want to make sure you’re happy, satisfied,” Maureen tells her.


“Yea, because we have no problem dropping a few hints,” Liz says.


“Or just outright telling him to step it up,” Kathleen adds.


Olivia just shakes her head, “You ladies are just as bad as your grandmother.” 


“Where do you think we learned it?” Liz asks, “We may not have spent that much time with her growing up, but now, well you know, nothing is off limits. She will tell you exactly what she’s thinking or ask what she wants to know.”


“And there’s no such thing as secrets or private information,” Kathleen supplies.


“Oh, I know,” Olivia nods. 


“We know you know,” Liz laughs, then leans over and whispers to Sarah, more quietly this time.


“Ugh, what has she told you?”


“What is there to tell?” Kathleen counters.


“Nothing,” she lies, and the women make uh huh sure eyes at her. Ignoring their looks, she goes on, “But to answer your question: I’m very happy, and very satisfied,” Olivia adds with a smile and red cheeks, “There is no need to drop hints or give instructions.” 


“Good,” Kathleen says, clapping Olivia on the shoulder. “But if anything changes, you better let us know, so we can kick his ass for you.”


Shaking her head again, Olivia takes a long swig of her drink, “Will do. Now can we talk about something else?” Olivia turns to Liz and Sarah, “Sarah, tell me more about your job, please .”



The guys were having an equally good time. All of them were sitting around a small poker table, Noah to the right of Elliot so he could help him through the game. They’d played several practice rounds, but Noah was still too young to really understand the game. 


“Pay up boys,” Elliot says jovially, reaching out to pull a small pile of chips to his section of the table to count and stack. 


Richie stands, “I need more snacks, anyone else want anything while I’m up?”


“I want a coke,” Eli says.


“Another beer, if you don’t mind,” Carl adds, holding a finger in the air.


“Make it two beers,” Elliot says with a nod. 


“Coke and two beers, got it,” Richie repeats and heads to the fridge. “What about you Noah?” Richie asks when he returns and sets the drinks down on the table. 


“He’ll take a beer,” Elliot teases.


“What! No, no,” Noah panics, shaking his head. “A coke! I’ll have a coke.”


Eli places a hand on Noah’s back, and leans in, “Calm down, Noah. He was just joking.”


The younger boy’s shoulders relax, and he exhales, “Oh.”


“Sorry little man, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Elliot apologizes before adding, “I just figured now that you are shaving and all, you are ready for beer.”


“You’re shaving already?” Carl asks.


“No, I was just practicing. Elliot showed me how to hold the razor and move it gently down my face.” Noah explains, using his hand near his face to demonstrate the movement of shaving. “I don’t have to shave yet.”


“Oh, that’s right,” Elliot says exaggeratedly, “How could I forget?”


“In that case, if you were just practicing, then no beer for you tonight.” Richie remarks as he places a can of Coca-Cola in front of Noah. He grins as he returns to his chair, thinking of how his dad helped him learn to shave when he was about Noah’s age.


“That’s okay. I think my mom would be really mad if you gave me a beer,” Noah says sagely with a solemn nod.


“You are right about that one, Noah,” Elliot confirms, reaching for the pile of cards to start shuffling for the next hand. 


“You don’t have to worry about your mom getting upset, Noah, dad won’t let you drink – even beer – until you are 21,” Eli informs Noah.


“Dad is still holding out on the beer, Eli?” Richie asks, picking up on the hint of frustration in Eli’s voice.


“Yea,” Eli sighs.


“Sorry about that, you can blame me,” Richie apologizes.


“What did you do?” Carl asks, not having heard this particular Stabler story yet.


“I was – what dad? maybe 15 or 16?”


“You were 15,” Elliot supplies.


“I was 15 and had a really bad day in school. My girlfriend dumped me and I just failed a geometry test. So, I was sulking in the garage and dad offered me a beer – just one – and we talked about it.”


“That’s not too bad,” Carl says.


“No, that’s not the bad part, '' Elliot agrees, “tell him what you did that weekend.”


“Of course, my broken heart wasn’t mended in one afternoon or by one beer. So that Friday night, while dad was working late, my buddy and I snuck back into the garage and drank several beers. I can’t remember now how many we had.”


Seeing where this story was going, Carl offered a quiet, “Oh no.”


But being only 10, and not familiar enough with the dangers of drinking too many beers, Noah asks, “What happened?”


“Well, beer and other alcohol can make you sick if you drink too much of it,” Elliot explains, “So when I got home from work, Richie and his friend were drunk, and when I tried to walk them into the house, they puked on my shoes.”


“Ewwwww!” Noah exclaims. 


Eli, even though he’d heard the story a few times, still grimaces. 


Carl just laughs, having a similar experience in his teen years.


“Yea, yea. And then I was grounded for two weeks and all my allowance went to buy dad a new pair of shoes.”


“We both learned our lessons. Richie, not to drink too much. And me, not to let me teen boys have even one beer because they will take advantage of that generosity and end up drunk and puking on your shoes,” Elliot says, with a single finger pointed, and then he starts dealing the next hand.


The boys all chuckle and take a peek at their cards. 


Noah looks at his cards and then leans over to Elliot, showing his two cards and whispering, “Elliot, I think this is a good hand. Is it?”


Elliot whispers back, “Yea bud, a really good one. But remember, we have to wait to see what the other cards are, too.”


Eli smirks, knowing that he might be folding quickly this round. But Richie gives him a look, reminding him that it wasn’t but a couple years ago that he was the one sitting next to his dad asking for guidance on his poker game.



Olivia is standing at the end of the bed, for the second time that night, except this time, she’s not deciding what to wear. She’s undressing from her evening outfit, ready to pull on her comfy pajamas and tuck in, under the covers. 


Elliot steps into the room, much less quietly than he had earlier in the evening. The door clicks loudly, as does the lock, and he bumps into the dress with a loud “ shit ,” as a couple picture frames fall over.


“Shhh, the boys and your mom are asleep,” Olivia hushes.


“They are heavy sleepers, you know this,” he replies with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and a predatory grin. 


“Oh no, not tonight El, we are drunk,” Olivia tries to shut him down as she pulls her top over her head and reaches for the button on her jeans. 


“Yes, yes tonight,” Elliot counters, leaning against the dresser, “we need to check ‘drunk sex’ off of our to-do list.”


“Our to-do list? You have a sex to-do list?” She asks as she turns to look at him, her jeans flared open and the top over her lacy panties peeking out.


Elliot lets his eyes greedily roam her body, before nodding. “Sure do.”


“Do I even want to know what’s on it?”


“Hmmm,” he pretends to think, and then begins counting with his fingers, “drunk sex…hotel sex…car sex…beach sex–”


“No on that one, sand in bad, bad places,” Olivia interrupts with a giggle and an exaggerated shudder.


“Okay, no beach sex,” Elliot concedes as he stalks towards her, “What about sex at the 1-6? I need to bend you over your big desk in your fancy Captain’s office.”




“Oh, you like that Captain?” he teases, placing his hands on her sides and running them down under the waistband of her jeans, sliding over her ass and squeezing. “Or is the interrogation room more your style babe? Can I push you up against that two-way window?”


“I think keeping my job is more my style,” she argues, though thoughts of the two of them, naked and panting, in her office does more for her than she cares to admit.


“Job, schmob,” he scoffs, “who needs a job when you can stay at home and have sex all day and night?”


“All day and all night, boy, someone has a high opinion of his stamina,” Olivia mocks.


“Ouch! Your words, they strike deep,” Elliot grips his chest with his hands and tosses his head back, playing as if she’s struck him in the chest.


She just laughs. But his antics don’t last long, he strips his shirt and then returns his hands to her backside, but this time he slides under her panties as well and begins pushing her pants and underwear over her hips. 


“Oh really, Detective?” She smirks at him.


Elliot leans in to kiss her neck, right under her ear, “Really. I want you to touch me, Olivia. I want you all over me – your hands, your lips, I want you dripping down my face,” before he bends over to tug her pants to her ankles. 


“El,” she gasps, and has to steady herself by grabbing for his shoulders so she doesn’t fall over.


“Olivia,” he says calming, his eyes peering deep into hers when he returns upright. He knows that he has to make sure Olivia understands that he knows what he’s doing, and it’s okay for them to have some fun tonight. He kisses her hard, it’s not deep but it’s not lacking in passion or intensity. When he pulls back, he tells her, “I had a great night playing poker with our kids; I’m only a little buzzed from the beer; you are as beautiful as ever, so sexy; and I want to make love to you.”


Maybe it was the little alcohol that remained flowing in her blood, or maybe it was his words, his touch, or the way his eyes were several shades darker and his eyelids had begun to droop with arousal. But she didn’t really care what it was. Her heart was beating out of her chest, she felt her own body throb and crave him.


She smiles at him, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Do you want to make love to me,” Olivia asks and then, leaning forward and placing her lips right in front of his ear, “or do you want to fuck me?”


His eyes close and he growls her name, “Liv.” 


She’s learned that even the most basic dirty talk, something as simple as adding in a few four-letter words, turns Elliot on. She’s not sure why, but any expletive was always enough to make his cock twitch and his hips pump faster when he’s inside her.


Her hands trail up from his thigh to cup him, gripping him none too lightly through the thick denim of his jeans, he grunts and pushes into her hand, “Tell me, El. Which do you want? Do you want to love me, or do you want to –”


His hands grip her ass, and he tugs her the last couple of steps towards him until she’s stumbling into the solid wall of his chest, her hand trapped between them. “Fuck you. God, I want to fuck you so bad,” he growls. 


“Then what are you waiting for,” she taunts, nipping roughly at his ear lobe. 


He tugs her head back by her hair, and his lips crash against hers, hot and wet. He kisses her deeply and his movements a little sloppier than normal, grinding his hips into her hand. 


“Fuck Liv,” he grunts, “Are you sure you want to do this?”


She grips him again before bringing both hands to his belt buckle, practically ripping it open. He tries to help, but she smacks his hands away, so he takes the time to unclasp her bra. He pulls the straps down over her shoulders as she shoves his pants and briefs down to his knees, as far as she can reach while still standing. 


She reaches for his length, grasping him at his base and starts stroking him hastily. He forgets her bra, dangling away from her chest and off her arms, his efforts redirect to pull her mouth back to his. 


He starts to shuffle them to the bed, forgetting that both of them have their pants still resting around their ankles. They topple backwards and land across the messy mattress. 


“El!” Olivia shrieks. 


“Shhhh, sorry,” Elliot laughs loudly, then concedes more quietly, “Maybe I am still just a little drunk.” 


He pushes himself off her, standing so he can toe off his shoes and socks and kick off his pants and briefs. The lightness of the moment doesn’t last long. Elliot’s eyes trail down her body hungrily and mindlessly his hand takes hold of his erection, rubbing up and down the pulsing shaft. 


Olivia watches him as she peels her bra off her arms and tosses it aside. She moves to sit up, and rids her body of her strappy sandals and pants. 


He wants to help; he knows that she should help her. But he just stands there, watching her undress while he strokes himself, enjoying the view of her undressing in his bed.


Before she can lay back on the bed, she hears him, low and gruff, “Flip over, on your hands and knees, the middle of the bed,” he instructs. 


She eyes him for a moment, her body throbbing at the sight of him: standing there strong, flushed red, and his tattooed forearm moving at dedicated pace. 


“You heard me, flip over…now,” he commands her again. 


Her eyebrow lifts curiously, realizing how he wanted tonight to go, which was no surprise. He’d been drinking a little, spent time with the guys, so he was feeling all testosterone-y and loose. And she’d upped the ante, asking him if he wanted to fuck her tonight. 


“Yes sir,” she says, giving into his obvious desires and abides by his directions and she could swear she saw his cock grow at her voice.


“Hmmmm, so fucking sexy,” he whispers to himself, loud enough, though, that she can hear him. 


Elliot steps up to the bed and kneels behind her, grabbing her ass and kneading it with both hands. He grinds his cock against her, muttering a strangled “fuck,” as he lets himself surrender to the pleasure. 


Olivia whines, wiggling her hips and pressing back into him and she hears a second, “fuck,” fumble from his lips. 


Elliot pulls back and flips over on his back, his face landing right under her core. He groans at the sight of her pussy, pink, swollen, and glistening. But he doesn’t stall for long. He pulls her by the hips down to his face, his tongue immediately licking, his lips sucking. He’s without his normal finesse tonight, sloppy from the alcohol and urgent due to the desire pounding through his veins. But he’s no less effective.


He moves quickly, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking ardently and bring two fingers up and thrusting in and out several times, until he can tell she’s building towards an orgasm, before pulling them out so he can thrust his tongue into her. He grabs her ass again, pulling her apart and down harder on his face. He lets his damp fingers trail up and down the crevice of her ass, teasingly. 


“Elllll,” she whines again. Elliot knows that whine, but he’s not quite ready to give in.


“You are so wet baby, you are dripping down my chin,” he says against her inner thigh as he nips at soft skin there, letting his fingers play, tempting her.


 She moans into the nearest pillow.


“Tell me, Liv. What do you need?”


“You,” he hears her mumble into the pillow.


“How? How do you need me,” he asks with another bite.


“Mmmmm,” she groans into the pillow. She doesn’t always like it when he gets like this, talkative, teasing, slowing down and asking her questions when she’s right on the edge. She just wants his tongue, his fingers, his cock, anything. 


Elliot chuckles against her thigh before returning to her clit. But he swirls around it, barely sucking, not giving her what he knows she wants.


Olivia pulls her face from the pillow, cursing him breathlessly, “Damn it, Elliot.”


“What?” He asks innocently. She groans in frustration and he chuckles, still licking at her and swirling his fingers teasingly. 


“I thought you wanted to fuck me,” she reminds him, challenging him to take her.


“I believe that I said I wanted you dripping down my chin,” he counters.


“And I am, now fuck me,” she practically growls at him, lifting her hips from his hands and the reach of his lips, making the decision for him.


He scrambles off his back and to his knees behind her, snagging her hips before she could move too much farther away from him. He lines himself up, one hand on her hip and the other on his cock, “You good?” he asks quickly, sliding his tip along her labia. 


“Yes, damn it, now,” she demands.


“Yes, Captain,” he says as he pushes forward, “fucking you now, Captain.”


He doesn’t give her time to adjust, he just drives into her hard and fast. And all their talking stops, overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being joined. Instead, only the sounds of their panting, Elliot’s grunts, and skin slapping fills the room. 


Looking down, watching his cock plunging into her over and over again, he’s reminded of their early weeks together, the afternoon they’d snuck away to her apartment for a little afternoon delight. He had been taken aback by her desperation for him and willingness to sneak away for sex, but he was also timid, having only slept with her once before. He didn’t want to make a wrong move, ruin the moment by turning her off or making her uncomfortable. 


He’s not timid now though. Their boundaries have been explained, their likes and dislikes discussed and discovered. He knows now that she likes it when he pulls on her shoulder or grabs, but not pulls, her hair from this position. And she likes it when he – whap! whap! – smacks her ass. 


He slaps her ass twice more before wrapping his arm around her in search of her clit. She moans again when he hits his mark and starts rubbing hurriedly. He’s running out of steam; his lungs and legs are starting to burn from the pace and his orgasm is rising low in his spine.


He doesn’t need her to announce her orgasm, but hearing her voice say, “Don’t stop…I’m coming,” is always a welcomed sound, having never thought he’d hear those words drip from her lips while he’s fucking her. 


“Yes…fuck…come Liv, come,” he grunts, needing to feel her climax around him.


She forces her face back down into the pillow to muffle the “oh gods” and “yeses” that she can’t hold back. Her arms give out, and his tight grip on her hips is the only thing keeping her from completely collapsing onto the bed. 


But Elliot doesn’t relent, he continues desperate for his release, his hips slamming into hers, fighting through her clenching. “Ung…shit…Liv!” he calls as he feels his climax rip through him. He groans, ducking his chin to his chest to watch her body tremble with the force of his release.


His grip loosens and they both crumple to the mattress, sweaty and gasping for air. He rolls off her quiet, “fuck.”


 Olivia chuckles at him, “You’ve said that a few times tonight, El.”


“I might need to say it a few more times, because damn , that was...”


She agrees, trying to wave her hand, but it flops back down to the bed. “Yea, that was…”



Once they regulate their breathing, they get themselves ready for bed; cleaning up, getting water and aspirin for the morning, and then they return to bed and snuggle together under the covers. 


Olivia lays with her head on his chest, her fingers toying with the soft hair on his belly, she stiffles a yawn before asking, “How was your poker game?”


“Good. Noah was starting to really pick up on it, but lost interest after a while. He played his switch at the table while the rest of us took Dickie’s money.”


She huffs a small laugh. “Thank you for including him.”


“Of course,” Elliot squeezes his arm around her back a little tighter, “You know that he’s always welcome, Liv. We all adore him…we all love him.”


Silently she nods, her fatigue allowing her emotions to overwhelm her, and a small tear escapes her eye. If Elliot feels it hit his pec, he doesn’t say anything. But he takes a deep breath and kisses the crown of her head. 


“How was your night with the girls?”


“Fun, as always. Your girls are wonderful, El. All five of us had a great time.”


“Do I even want to…wait… five of you? Who else was there?”


Olivia tensed, afraid that she revealed too much. But then she recalled that Liz wanted her to ease Elliot into the idea of her bringing home a significant other to meet her dad.


“Well, Liz’s girlfriend, Sarah, joined us.”


Elliot yawned before saying lazily, “That’s nice. What’s she like? What’s her name?”


Olivia giggled.




“Nothing,” Olivia shrugs off his question.


“No, what is it?”


Olivia lifts her head to look at him, a big grin spreading across her face. “It’s just that the girls were right.”


Elliot cocks his head, “Right about what?”


“They told me that I should wait to tell you about Sarah until after sex,” Olivia laughs.