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The apartment was quiet. No sound more than the ticking of the clock that Bernie insisted was in the living room. Though it drove most crazy every night.
The clock read 1:30 when Elliot slipped out of his bedroom, to find Randall sitting at the kitchen island alone, the soft glow of the city lights seeping in from the patio door.
“What’re you doing up?” Elliot asked, reaching towards the cabinet to find a glass.
“Could ask you the same thing,” his brother responded, “you’re not alone in there.”
It was a statement. Not a question.
“How do you know that?”
“Heard whispering, couple sniffles,” Randall told him. It was true. A couple hours ago, Olivia had jolted awake by a nightmare. She sniffled through some story of the shooting, how it played out differently. Elliot got her to calm down and curl back into him.
“Bad dream,” Elliot explained, “rough couple days.”
“She alright?”
“Will be,” he said, “I should get back, before she realizes I’m gone.”
He did just that, sliding back into bed and smiling as Olivia curled back up, exhaling softly.
“You’re okay, go back to sleep,” Elliot whispered, with a kiss to the top of her head, “I got you.”
“Can’t tell Fin,” he heard her mumble.
“Can’t tell Fin what?”
“This,”
“Okay,” he told her, “I won’t tell Fin that the tough Captain Benson was cuddling with me.”
“Yeah,” Olivia muttered, and after a second, “El?”
“Hm?”
“You’re not gonna leave me again?”
“No,” Elliot said, “not now, not ever. Staying right here if you’ll let me.”
“Okay,” she responded, “I love you.” He chuckled, because what he didn’t know was that would be an argument for the rest of their lives. He didn’t know that she would swear that she didn’t say it first.
But he doesn’t want to count the first time he said it back during his own intervention. Back when she just stared at him like he had three heads, like she wanted to run. And she did, for awhile. But now he got her to stop, and in his own perfect world, that means that she said it first.
“I love you, too,” he whispered, “always have, always will.”