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It’s hot.
It’s that sort of hot that makes things unbearable; where everyone feels stand-offish and drained, bodies depleted just trying to get to where they’re going.
And it’s not just the heat. As Rollins points out - repeatedly - it’s the humidity that’s killing them.
It’s the kind of humidity that hangs; thick and heavy, swallowing the city whole. The kind that makes Olivia’s hair curl, frizzy and wild; that makes the sweat on her back trickle down the waistband of her pants. It’s stifling; makes the air still and soupy and sends the heat index well in to that deep, dark red that means ‘stay the hell inside’ to anyone with good sense.
In other words, it is the worst possible weather for the NYPD championship softball play-offs.
But, the brass is insistent, wanting the good will press that comes from the event; and there’s a piece of her - not a small piece - that brims with ego, wanting to defend the title that her squad has held for 4 years straight.
Until he came back, anyways.
Until he came back, and OC spotted their gem, their star player. He’d spent years coaching his kids through tee-ball and baseball, and even though he’d never played the game himself, he’d developed a nice swing, and he could run. He could run, could catch the ball, and he could keep the group in line.
He could win the whole championship for OC; a fact that he reminded everyone of as the day drew closer. A fact he teased and cajoled her with, taunting her time and time again.
“You’re going down, Benson.”
He’d whispered it in her last night after their date for drinks had gotten heated, him refusing to disclose who they were subbing in for Cho, who was MIA ( undercover , she thinks, a ripple of gratitude that it’s not him this time, that someone else has stepped up). She’d slapped his arm back, nudged him with her toe under the table as she rolled her eyes. Then she’d taken a long sip of the wine in her hands and pulled him close; cupped her hand around his ear and reminded him that it was in fact, he, who’d be going down first, when they got back to his apartment later.
They’ve been doing this for a few months now. It’s quiet - their families are in the know, and they’ve disclosed, told their respective bosses, but she hasn’t advertised it to her squad or the NYPD at large. She likes it like this; close and guarded, not up for public consumption. Olivia thinks Fin knows; since he’s gone suddenly quiet about Elliot when she’s around. If Fin knows, they all know; but no one’s had the guts to ask her yet, or even say a suggestive word.
It’s been nice, and good, and real, and she thinks she could say it to him. It’s been on the tip of her tongue, lately; but she hasn’t said it, has stopped just short.
Tonight though - tonight, she thinks; will not be the night she says it. Not tonight, when she has a championship to defend, and he is beating utterly ridiculous.
Both teams have showed up to the field early, trying to squeeze in as much practice as possible. The OC team is organized - running drills at the request of their coach - in stark contrast to her team of grumpy, sullen cops.
“Too fuckin’ hot for this crap, tonight.” She hears Fin’s angry mutter as he walks past her toward the shade of a tree, his phone out as he texts Phoebe, leaning on her to bring extra Gatorades for the team. Velasco is trying, bless him; but the uniforms on the SVU team are all ignoring him and his attempts to start a pitching practice.
Rollins is busy, flirting with Carisi, all giggles and arm touches and Olivia is trying hard not roll her eyes.
It’s cute, but it’s almost nauseating, watching the two of them. She’s not jealous, she’s well aware that what Elliot and she have is something more, something deep and rooted that is built to withstand - but it’s a lot to see them, bouncy and happy and sweet, when right now, the only thing she wants to do with her - boyfriend - is send him packing.
He’s annoying like this. All puffed up and cocky, hunched over like he’s some sort of pro ball player as he barks orders at the line of detectives and uniforms. He’s in full coach mode, and she thinks if she was on the same team as him, if they were up against someone else together, she’d find it endearing, his passion for this.
But, as it stands - she wants to win, and he is being extremely extra , and her people are not looking like they have any fight in them on this muggy evening. Her nerves are on edge.
“Olivia!” She hears her name shouted, turns to see Bernie standing there with what looks to be an extremely annoyed Eli.
She steps over to them, taking care to avoid the wayward glance Fin throws her way.
“Hey, guys.” She reaches them, leans in to squeeze Bernie in a hug. She pats Eli on the arm.
“Here to watch Dad?” She asks the young man, and she stifles a smirk as he responds.
“Oh you mean Captain Baseball? Yeah, I got dragged to this.”
She shoots a glance at Bernie, who throws up her hands in a small ‘what could I do’ gesture.
“Mmhmm, I see.”
Olivia reaches in her back pocket, pulls out a $20.
“Could you do me a favor, since you’re here? Lucy’s dropping Noah off, and he’s going to be begging for an ice cream and I’ve got to stay out there - could you take him?”
Eli takes the bill between two fingers, placing it in his pocket.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll do anything to get out of watching a bunch of senior citizens play softball.”
Olivia laughs then, pats him on the back and thanks him as she wanders back to her team.
She glances out at the field; her hand over her eyes to block out the evening sun. She looks at her team, in disarray, and his team, finishing up the last of their warm up sprints, and feels her stomach sink, just a bit.
This was going to be a disaster.
—
It was shaping up to be worst than she’d expected.
“CAPTAIN - Oli - CAPTAIN BENSON!”
Fin’s shouting her name, gesturing wildly at her position in outfield as the ball comes at her. She can’t see a fucking thing; the sun blinding her, and she hears the thud as the ball hits the ground by her.
Olivia flinches as Velasco runs by her, almost catapulting in to her, eager and young and fast as he scoops up the ball, throwing it to home, a second too late.
She spots him, whooping and high fiving as he slaps the hands of Ayanna and Jet (who is, surprisingly, the star pitcher of the night) when he reaches the dug out. Another run scored, another point to OC, and Olivia rolls her eyes when he turns to the outfield and winks at her.
That cocky son of a bitch .
The next play is easy, Maldonado striking out and earning OC’s third out for the inning. The team heads in, and SVU is up to bat.
Two uniforms are up first; both making decent plays as they make it to first and second easily. Rollins is up next, her ponytail bouncing as she hits it perfectly, up the middle and out of their range, loading the bases for Olivia’s turn at bat.
Olivia grips the metal, taking a few practice swings before she heads to the plate. She gives herself a pep talk, conjures up an image of Elliot moments before, arrogant and swaggering, willing herself to use it to drive the ball out of sight.
She walks to the plate, relaxing her shoulders as she brings the bat up, gets in the right stance. The sun is out of her eyes, hitting the outfield and she’s grateful for a second; that she’s spared the indignity of hitting directly into the burning light.
Until; she sees him. Sees him in the outfield, golden sun on him, looking like a fucking Adonis. Her mouth runs dry at the sight.
His shirt is off; and he’s using it to mop the sweat off his head. His muscles ripple, toned and taut and she can make out every hard ridge; can make out the way he’s glistening; actually fucking glistening, in the evening sun.
He’s slick with sweat, golden in the dying light. She’s seen him every which way from Sunday now, every square inch of him, but she’s never seen him like this. The way his bicep curls, hard and tight; and the way his abs look even more defined, like they’re etched in marble, in this light.
It’s distracting, and she’s leering; and Olivia doesn’t even realize it when Jet steps back on the mound, winds up, and pitches a beautiful fastball directly at her.
She doesn’t see it, because her eyes are on him; but Christ, she feels it when it rockets into her, low and hard; right into her already damaged ankle.
She registers the pain first; then the thwack of ball on bone; and she is down immediately. She crumples, hits the dirt, her face contorting as she lets out a surprised yelp.
It hurts; it fucking kills and she’s sure it’s broken again, sure whatever the surgeon did has been undone. The pain is severe enough, all consuming and harsh, that she barely hears his shouts.
“OLIVIA!” His voice fills the field; and somewhere in the haze of pain she hears him, hears the thud of his feet as he books it towards her, his shirt discarded as he races her way.
“OLIVIA!” She hears him again; her eyes squeezed shut as she tries to block everything out; the pain, the humiliation, all of the indignity she’s feeling.
“Olivia??” His voice is softer now, slower, and closer, and as she opens her eyes, she feels the weight of his arms close in on her.
“Fuck, Olivia - god are you -? Is it your ankle?”
He’s asking the questions, not giving her a chance to answer as he leans down, one arm around her back and the other underneath her knees. He pulls her up, lifts her like she’s nothing; just air, and she yelps again at the feeling of being suddenly, without warning, suspended in the air.
Elliot starts to move both of them towards the asphalt of the parking lot, head turning over his shoulder as he shouts back at both teams.
“It’s her bad ankle, I’m taking her in.”
If she was indignant before; she is fuming now. Here he is, scooping her up, carrying her to the car like she’s a child - in front of everyone. Her squad, his squad, the brass, their kids; all of them sitting open mouthed, staring at the spectacle.
“Elliot, put me down.”
She hisses it through gritted teeth; eyes directed angrily at him.
“I’m not,” he huffs out the words, as he almost jogs. “I’m not letting you put weight on it until the doctor sees you.”
“I can walk - Elliot, I can walk.”
Her voice is angry, low and heated and he is ignoring her; won’t listen, just continues to barrel towards his SUV with her in his arms.
“You need to stay off it, you’re hurt and just - god, would you listen ?”
He stops at the car door, lets her slide out of his arms to balance on one leg. Elliot reaches behind her to open the door, and she winces; grabs on to his arm as she goes to slide in.
It does hurt; and she can see it’s already swollen, but she’s still embarrassed.
All of this; because she’d been gawking.
—
She freezes him out.
They don’t talk on the way to the ER; other than to confirm which one she wants to go to. They don’t talk as she sits, a bag of ice melting on her ankle in the waiting room. They don’t talk as Bernie and Eli and Noah rush in with her bag, or as they leave, headed back to Elliot’s to wait out her visit.
They finally break the silence when she’s escorted back to a triage room; and the nurse asks if he’s coming back too.
His eyes are soft, pleading; and she takes some pity on him, sitting there with a borrowed scrub top on, barely covering the length of his torso.
“Yes, he’s with me.”
She sighs out her answer.
They wheel her back and Elliot helps her on to the exam bed, lets her brace herself on his shoulder, lifts her ankle up and asks the nurse for a fresh bag of ice.
He settles into the chair next to the wall; and as she flips through the channels on the mounted television, he starts to talk.
“Liv - I’m sorry if…I’m sorry if…”
He trails off, his face drawn, hands clasped together in his lap. He looks so sad here, so utterly despondent at her hostility, that she can’t help but feel the anger start, slowly, to relent.
Olivia sighs, and reaches down, putting her hand on his forearm.
“It’s fine, Elliot - I was just. I was embarrassed.”
He nods, looks up at her on the table.
“I was - it’s just when you went down like that; so fast, it reminded me of…”
She nods, knows he means the times before. Gitano and Rojas; when she’d crumpled to the ground in front of him.
“Besides, I uh - the ankle? The whole thing with the accident it’s on me, you know? Wheatley did that because of me.”
Her heart breaks a little; then, at the mournful look in his eyes, the sad way he worries a lip between his teeth.
“Elliot.” She breathes the word out, pulls at his arm until he stands, then comes to the edge of the bed. She scoots, a grimace on her face as she holds her leg still; opening a small space for him next to her. He slides in, one leg up next to her injured one, the other dangling down.
She threads her fingers through his, and they sit for a moment; him stroking small circles against her knuckle with his thumb.
Olivia breaks the silence.
“You’ve got to stop blaming yourself for everything, Elliot. What Wheatley did, what he chose to do to me, to you, to Kathy - he did that. Not you.”
His voice cracks as he answers, squeezing her fingers tight in his.
“I know. I know. I do know. But I just - I just reacted. You know?”
She nods, knows he was just trying, just reacting; and maybe it’s a flaw of his, that he snaps into protective mode too fast and too swiftly, when it comes to her; but maybe she’s okay with that. Maybe she’s okay with it, because she knows that now he can do that; can scoop her up and run her to the emergency room; can fend off anyone who’d try to hurt her. Maybe she’s okay with it, because the piece of her that loves him without condition, without any forethought; the part that acts on instinct - that piece of her would do the same for him.
She turns to him, cupping a hand on his cheek. Olivia presses her forehead to his and murmurs softly in the air between them.
“I know, El.”
When she slants her lips over his; it’s gentle. A message, that he doesn’t need to be the one to carry the load alone; that they’re in this together. It’s soft and slow; not passionate and intense. Deeper, happier; that they can be here, for each other, in the moments like this. Ass half off a bed in the emergency room, fingers entwined barely holding him on the space; but together.
They break apart and she smiles against his mouth.
“…was your fault tonight, though.”
He opens his eyes, his face a question as she laughs before she responds.
“If you hadn’t been out there with your shirt off for the whole world to see, I wouldn’t have gotten distracted.”
He smirks as he pulls back.
“Is that so, Captain? You like what you saw tonight?”
She shoots him a look through narrow eyes.
“Elliot, I was about to hit a home run, until you pulled that crap.”
He laughs then, loud and raucous as he shakes his head.
“Oh I don’t think so, Benson. You guys were losing, and you were going to lose, and this -“ he says, gesturing at his torso “- this had nothing to do with it.”
She smacks him on the thigh, gentle and playful as they continue to volley insults back and forth; until the doctor arrives.
As he pushes her back to x-ray, she catches the twinkle in his eye; the grin on his face. He looks happy; and she feels happy despite the throb of her ankle. Maybe earlier tonight she’d contemplated how she was ever going to deal with him again; but damn if she isn’t thrilled that he’s the one driving her home tonight.
Even if they did have to break her 4 year streak to get here.