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rqgnarok · 4 months

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leave a light on - nolan price

prequel for love you better now, but can be read individually

fandom: law & order, law & order special victims unit

wc: 4,735

warnings: canon presence of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, and hospitals. female reader.

summary: nolan's wife gets shot. he tries and fails to deal with that.

author's note below! masterlist / ko-fi / ao3

Nolan misses Liv’s call thrice before he calls for a recess.

The first two he’s stuck cross-examining the DA’s witness and he doesn’t realize how many times Liv has tried to get him on the phone until the third time she calls. He can’t answer, obviously– Judge MacNamara is lenient but not enough for Nolan to take a call in the middle of the day– but the call goes to voicemail and his screen lights up with Liv’s other attempts to reach him.

He immediately knows it’s bad. And he immediately knows it’s about his wife.

His chest constricts with his panic, breath catching and refusing to enter his lungs as his brain tries to catch up to the situation. The courtroom is suddenly too small and suffocating, his tie a noose around his neck.

It takes McNamara calling his name several times and the DA snidely wondering if the defense needs a minute for Nolan to somewhat snap out of it, pressing on Liv’s contact before the judge finishes adjourning for the day.

“Nolan,” she says, shaky.

Not Price, which is what he’d expect from his wife’s coworker. They’re all friends, sure, but during work hours they fall into the habit of keeping everyone at arm’s length. Not right now, for some reason, and Nolan is tiptoeing the line between fine and about to crumble on the courthouse steps from a knock-out panic attack.

“What happened?” Because something must’ve happened. His wife has one of the most dangerous jobs out there, life-endangering experiences being the norm and coming home not-dead being a good day. But if Liv is calling– if Liv is calling and (Y/N) isn’t…

Nolan has been psyching himself up for this day since (Y/N) first told him about joining the police academy. He’s still somehow not ready.

He will never be ready for this.

Olivia hesitates for a second too long and Nolan’s fear gets the best of him. “Olivia. What happened?”

Her voice cracks at (Y/N)’s name. Nolan grips his briefcase so tightly on the way to the hospital that his hand goes numb, nails digging into the skin of his palm until it’s red and tender.

The knot of anxiety in his belly doesn’t unclench despite the quick, easy ride to the hospital. New York traffic seems to be doing him a favor, but it isn’t the physical distance he’s worried about. That one at least he’s able to cross. There’s nothing he can do if his wife is… if she…

Nolan finds a sea of cops and NYPD blue as soon as he crosses the threshold into Bellevue, worried and talking over each other as they watch over one of their injured own. None of them are familiar faces and his panic increases tenfold, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears drowning out doctors, officers, and detectives.

Suddenly, the sea of people parts for her, and Olivia is in his line of sight, giving Nolan’s brain something to focus on other than the never-ending possibilities of what he might be facing here. She looks disheveled, shirt askew and vest still halfway on; her hair out of place, and her expression haunted, but no blood. There’s no blood on her and it's an important distinction for Nolan to make when she seizes his free hand in hers.

“Nolan,” she says, and her voice sounds like static, just like it did on the phone. It isn’t the line but Nolan’s brain filled with noise, like cotton in his ears and mouth and eyes stopping him from receiving the world clearly. “Nolan, are you okay?”

“What happened?” he asks again. Liv hadn’t explained, not really. She only told him that (Y/N) was hurt and they were taking her to Bellevue. You should come too, she’d said, and should had sounded more like need, which did nothing to soothe Nolan’s raising hackles.

Nolan’s breath stutters. He knows what happened, but he can’t comprehend it. The hand holding his briefcase is shaking. He asks once more when Liv only blinks at him, mouth open and no words coming out. “What happened?”

“We were chasing a suspect via foot,” and Nick’s there, too, by Liv’s side, like an apparition Nolan might’ve conjured. His brows are furrowed, jaw tense. “We caught him mid-rape and separated to cover more ground. No one had mentioned a gun during their disclosures, he wasn’t supposed to be armed.”

“(Y/N) caught up to him first,” Liv continues, voice dry, shaking her head. “He– Shots went off but we didn’t know– he must’ve known we were onto him. Got his hands on a gun after the first wave of assaults.”

Nolan bites the inside of his cheek. He tastes blood and thinks of his wife, and stops.

“She was alone for two minutes tops,” Nolan wonders if Liv thinks she’s being reassuring. “She’d been shot, we called a bus right away.”

“Where?” Nolan asks tightly.

Liv blinks. Nick answers, “What?”

“Where, where in her body was she shot, how–” he struggles for a full breath and only comes out half successful. “How bad is it?”

Silence.

“Did you– did you not see her?” he wonders, biting. Nolan turns back and forth between his wife’s coworkers, losing his patience. “Were you there, was she– Jesus, Liv, how bad is it?”

“The bullet hit her chest,” Nolan loses all fiery, defensive passion right then and there. His own heart stops for a second, or at least that’s what it feels like when his chest is engulfed by a pressing ache that numbs him all over.

“They took her straight into surgery,” Nick continues when Nolan doesn’t say anything to that, unable to leave his partner to the wolves. “Liv rode with her in the ambulance but there wasn’t– it’s in their hands now. They’re taking care of her, pal, okay? She’s getting help.”

Where was the help when she was alone chasing after a fucking criminal, where the hell were you, huh he wants to say; wants to shout and curse and point and make a scene, but the words get stuck in his throat and in the next blink he finds himself seated in the waiting room, still surrounded by cops.

God, Nolan thinks, pressing his fingers to his tightly closed lids. When, in their fifteen years of knowing each other, could he have seen this coming? The bright-eyed, furiously righteous kid halfway through law school and the pretty girl who took one of his classes as an elective, only to completely destroy one of his classmates during a debate that made up half their grade.

Nolan had watched, mouth barely open in amazement as quiet, back-of-the-class (Y/N) didn’t flinch while delivering the final blow and bringing her team to victory. She snuck out before he could talk to her– do something stupid like congratulate her with stars in his eyes and an invitation for coffee on his tongue, but it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter because the next weekend his roommate dragged him to a party and she was there, she was everywhere now that Nolan was unconsciously looking out for her. He ran into her in the hallways from one class to another, in the library, at parties and restaurants. It was like the world was screaming at him here! Here, look this way! Here it is, the rest of your life waiting for you! All you gotta do is look!

He’d been there for hours already, bored and annoyed out of his mind when he saw her across the room. After nursing the same red cup of warm beer and looking at his watch every couple of minutes, calculating the appropriate time to bail he saw her. She’d been leaning against a wall, her expression changing from concealed humor to disbelief to a laugh that had her hiding behind her hand, entertained by whoever she’d been speaking to.

Who it was, Nolan doesn’t remember. He doesn’t even think about the cliche of it all, how the world faded when their eyes locked across the room and (Y/N) gave him a smile, shy, shrugging and turning back to her conversation.

The funny pressure on his chest didn’t dissipate when he finally got a chance to exchange words with her. After the final exam, Nolan left the lecture hall and sat heavily on a bench by the door, catching his breath from the adrenaline of a month worth of study finally being over.

(Y/N) was there, too, smiling sheepishly up at him as she crouched against the wall, elbows on her knees. Her expression brims with shy recognition as she nods. “How’d you do?”

She was talking about the exam. Nolan’s embarrassed to this day by the time it took for him to catch up. His cheeks were flushed when he answered. “I’m, uh, not flushing out yet, I hope.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“Ask me after I’ve slept some 12 hours,” he sighed, messing nervously with his hair. “Things usually seem less dire by then.”

“Would some coffee do the trick?” and Nolan didn’t know it then, but (Y/N) was nervous, bravery swelling inside her chest as she asked him for the first day of the rest of their lives. In the end, she’d been the one to catch up to all the signs, all the serendipitous opportunities to finally end up where they were supposed to.

“Coffee can work,” Nolan, young and eager, said slowly. He couldn’t stop grinning, high with lack of sleep and the attention of a pretty girl. “You’re buying?”

“It’s only fair,” she shrugged, but there was something giddy about her expression that he still sees in her face to this day sometimes, bright and young. “You look like you’re about to drop dead.”

“And I still seem like worthy company?”

“I think we can pull a few good hours out of you yet,” a few hours, a few years; Nolan will be as sleepless as he was then on his wedding day out of pure excitement. They’ll have spent the night before the ceremony talking on the phone while they slept in separate rooms because their friends are sentimental little fucks like that and wouldn’t let him even kiss her goodbye before the big day.

He’d described the few hours apart as agony in his vows, had made the crowd laugh and (Y/N) cry with the sentiment, and he wishes he hadn’t now. He shouldn’t have said a damned thing, shouldn’t have manifested any sort of agony into their lives because now the illusion cuts off sharply, and then he’s back in the waiting room, a nurse calling (Y/N)’s name while he plays with his wedding ring and bites the inside of his cheek, staring blankly into the hallway.

Liv’s still there for some reason, as are some other officers and Amaro, while the others hunt down the man who landed their friend in the hospital. Munch had snapped at the Captain when he told him he couldn’t stay. Fin had to lead Amanda out of the hospital by the shoulders, too stricken to do it herself.

Liv and Amaro stand when they hear the nurse but it takes Nolan a few moments to gather himself back together enough to pay attention. She tells them, gently, “She’s out of surgery. She lost a lot of blood, but only some of the bullet’s fragments hit her heart. It was touch and go but the doctor was able to extract all of them.”

Nolan’s lungs open up and he gets the first full breath washing over his body since Liv called. He must make a sound, because the attention in the room shifts to him, suffocating and inquisitive. His vision blurs for a second, not because of tears but adrenaline, his heartbeat pumping in his ears.

“She’s extremely lucky,” she continues, and she’s looking right at Nolan when she says this, like it's supposed to help. Like that’s what luck means, almost-but-not-quite bleeding out while your heart is stitched up back together. “Most people with injuries like this don’t even make it past the ambulance.”

Nolan closes his eyes in anguish. He presses his closed fists against his forehead, elbows on his knees, back hunched. It’s almost like he’s trying to disappear into himself, away from the image of an ambulance opening its doors when arriving at the hospital only to be met with his flatlining wife, the sound echoing through his brain and overriding every other of his senses.

“There’s still a long way to go,” she continues, softer, realizing she’s hit a nerve. She turns to Liv and Nick, who are paying rapt attention even as Nick walks close to him to put a hand on Nolan’s shoulder, tight and steady. “She won’t wake up anytime soon. Her body needs rest and to recuperate from the most acute of her injuries. And the doctor would like to talk about next steps once she does.”

Next steps, Nolan thinks. Next steps, the only next steps he’s aware of are those that lead to his wife, the nurse walking him to her room. Olivia and Amaro trail behind him like a couple of guard dogs, standing alert for any sign of Nolan backing out or collapsing into his grief.

He just might. He feels queasy, nauseous with exhaustion and worry. But then he sees his wife, and, really, nothing else matters.

“Sweetheart,” he says, devastated, walking to her bed across the hospital room. “Oh, honey.”

Despite his eagerness to touch her, Nolan flails when (Y/N)’s finally within arms reach. She looks asleep for one blissful, hopeful moment, but then Nolan blinks and the light settles; the ashiness of her skin, the uncomfortable placing of her body, the blank expression devoid of dreams or nightmares or consciousness.

He’d usually be embarrassed to have a witness to such a personal display of affection, but not even Liv and Nick standing tall at the door can stop Nolan from eventually cupping (Y/N)’s face in his hands and kissing the apple of her cheek, lingering and gentle. He’s afraid of touching the rest of her, of jostling her too badly, but the steady noise of the heart rate monitor is a constant, loud reminder that (Y/N) won’t fall apart that easily.

Liv and Nick linger behind him, talking quietly amongst themselves in sharp whispers. It might or might not be an argument, and in Nolan’s mind it feels like both an eternity and a couple of seconds. He would kick them out if he could gather the energy to care about it. Eventually, Benson takes a few apprehensive steps into the room, seemingly having lost whatever fight she and her partner were having.

“We’re on our way out,” she murmurs. “There’s a lead on our guy, the Captain’s calling us all back to the precinct. But if there’s anything…”

She trails off. Nolan doesn’t answer, studies instead the bridge of (Y/N)’s nose and the shape of her eyebrows, tries to count her eyelashes and catalog the bruises on her face. Liv sighs defeatedly and reaches for him.

“Whatever you need,” Liv says firmly with a hand on his arm. Still, her steady presence is undermined by the way she keeps looking at (Y/N) like she’s already attending a funeral. Nolan suddenly can’t stand her, even if she rode the ambulance with (Y/N) to the hospital and kept her semi-conscious until the doctors took her off her hands. “We’re here for you, alright? All of us, Nolan. I’m serious.”

“Thanks,” he says, voice rough and cracked from swallowing down his panic and tears. He clears his throat but it does little to clear up his words. “Thank you, Liv. For everything.”

Her lips tighten in an unpleased line, but she nods and leaves the room with one last squeeze to his shoulder. He’s being ungrateful, the fact doesn’t escape him. Liv’s the one who found her, who held her hand in the ambulance before they drove her off to surgery. Nolan owes Benson his life.

The thought alone makes him so nauseous he has to clench his eyes shut, jaw tight, entire body trembling. God, what would he have done? What will he do, if something happens to (Y/N)? She isn’t out of the woods yet and if something goes wrong, if her body decides to cave in, if the wound gets infected, if there’s something they didn’t catch, if, if, if, if–

He lifts his head and catches his wife’s face, lax and motionless. Once again, the panic settles. He hasn’t gotten the chance to let it unfold the way it needs to.

“I finally got you on your own,” Nolan says, soft, careful not to disturb the semblance of peace in the room. (Y/N) doesn’t answer, no matter how badly Nolan wants her to. “You’re very popular. A tough one to find these days, you know.”

She wasn’t even supposed to be in today. Cragen had called mere hours after they’d gone to bed– at the same time for the first time in weeks– and Nolan had done his best to stay up after the phone rang and (Y/N) began quickly getting ready. She’d kneeled next to his side of the bed and Nolan had leaned in to kiss her without thought, an automatic notion he wishes he’d paid more attention to now.

I’ll call you when I can, she nudged her nose against his temple before pressing a kiss there. Nolan had already been half asleep at that point. Love you.

Love you back, Nolan mumbled, jutting his chin forward blindly. One more.

He continues as if (Y/N) had spoken. “You’ve got half of the NYPD out there waiting on you. The nurses are rioting, but I don’t think anyone’ll leave until you wake up.”

Nolan’s voice loses the battle, it breaks right at the end of his sentence and so does his composure, eyes burning with tears that for some goddamned reason just won’t fall.

“Please,” he begs to the sky, to God, to no one. “Please, please, please. Wake up.”

He presses his forehead to his wife’s limp hand maybe a little too harshly. Even if the skin is cold and her grip is nonexistent, the relief the touch brings Nolan has him sobbing.

An hour ago she was in surgery, out of reach and sight even if she was already getting help.

Three hours ago she was bleeding out in some alleyway in Queens, struggling for her radio to call for help. Seven hours ago she was kissing him goodbye, smiling against his mouth despite the dark nature of the sudden case because Nolan kept pulling her in for one more kiss.

One more, one more, one more, his pleads begs now. Wake up and give me one more, sweetheart, come on now.

“Please, honey,” he whispers, wet and nasal with emotion. “I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready yet, I didn’t– I don’t–”

The words don’t come. Nolan chokes, holds (Y/N)’s hand in his own, and breathes, breathes, and breathes.

—

Life moves on.

Nolan doesn’t cry. God knows why, but he can’t, his body on automatic while his mind solely focuses on (Y/N)’s condition. The nurses know him by name and he makes record time to the apartment and back to the hospital for showers and quick naps, some food for the little appetite he has.

He doesn’t even think to be offended when his boss places him on indefinite leave. Nolan can’t bring himself to care, he would’ve stacked up every sick day and vacation time available to stay at (Y/N)’s side as much as he could anyway.

The squad offers to stand guard almost daily, which Nolan appreciates, but his object permanence has gone to shit. Whenever he doesn’t have eyes on (Y/N) his panic rises again like a tidal wave, never quite crashing but dwindling whenever he sits next to her at the hospital, hand on her ankle or arm or somewhere he can easily look for her pulse, weak but steady.

It’s desperate, he knows, and more than a little pathetic, but Nolan feels like he’s allowed. Until (Y/N) wakes up to tell him he’s been worrying over nothing he will do as he pleases.

He talks to her. It’s another coping method that borders on delusion but no one has called him out of it yet. Not even Liv and Amaro, who have caught him more than once speaking quietly into the lull of the hospital room, holding his wife’s hand and drawing soothing motions with his thumb against her skin.

Mom drove into the steps again. The ones in the driveway? They were already loose from last time and now she has Dad driving through every Home Depot in North Carolina to find the right match.

Jill sends her best. Last time I saw her she was talking my ear off about her kid’s college fund. Apparently her husband lost half of it during Tuesday night with the boys, whatever that means.

Munch says he owes you 20 bucks from the Giants game from two weeks ago? Which is weird, because you haven’t watched a full game since, like, ‘02. Not like you’re missing anything, but still, your accuracy to outsmart Munch in his own line of work is pretty outstanding.

It helps. Or it helps enough; whenever he ventures over what they’ll do once she’s awake and at home together the illusion breaks and so does Nolan’s voice. He trails off, feeling foolish, the weight of his delusion pressing on his chest.

“It’s not silly,” Munch tells him during one of his visits, the book he’s been reading to (Y/N) resting on his lap. “It’s helpful and it doesn’t hurt anyone. You’re talking to your wife. If I’d done more of that back in my day then maybe I’d still be married.”

“To which one?” Nolan asks, his lips tingling with the want to almost smile.

Munch points at him as if saying yahtzee. “Exactly.”

He’s so sure it calms Nolan more than you’d expect. So far Munch is the only other person who talks about (Y/N) like she’s still alive and thus, the only one who doesn’t make inexplicable helpless rage wash over Nolan whenever they’re in the same room.

He’s the one with him when (Y/N) wakes. She does so in a panic, waking Nolan up from his uncomfortable sleep in the chair next to her bed. It’s a sudden flail after another as her heart rate monitor goes crazy and she doesn’t answer any call of her name, terrified and in pain.

It’s awful. Nolan doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how she almost tears at her stitches mid her panic while doctors and nurses gather around her and kick Nolan out with quick accuracy. There’s nothing he can do to help and he knows it, but he’s never supposed to be in a position in which he can’t help her.

He’s doomed to watch from a glass window, helpless, as his wife suffers without anyone to reach out to.

She woke up but had to be sedated, a nurse tells him after, it’s normal for patients to be unaware of their surroundings after waking up from long periods of unconsciousness. We still haven’t been able to determine neurological damage, so we’ll have to wait until it wears off.

“Kid, kid, hey,” Munch says, oddly alarmed after coming back from the cafeteria with two coffees and finding Nolan sitting outside (Y/N)’s room, crying into his knees. “What’s wrong, what happened? I was gone for fifteen minutes–”

Nolan tries to explain but the words get caught up in his throat, his grief taking over his sense of logic. She woke up, he meant to say. She woke up and she didn’t know where she was and I stood by like an idiot to watch her suffer.

After he’s talked down from a panic attack he says, voice a mere croak. “She woke up. They don’t know– but she woke up.”

Munch sighs, visibly relieved as he squats next to Nolan, squeezing his shoulder in support. “Good. That’s good, hey– Nolan. That’s good, okay? That’s one step closer to getting her back. This is good.”

He repeats those words to himself like a mantra. This is good, this is good, this is good, and doesn’t dare to close his eyes for something other than blinking until (Y/N)’s conscious. It’s hours later, deep into the night when she opens her eyes again, groggy and disoriented, blinking into the dark hospital room.

“Honey,” he says, quiet and so, so relieved. (Y/N) doesn’t appear to hear him and a flash of fear seizes his heart. He presses the button and calls for a nurse, edging closer to the bed. “(Y/N/N). Hey, honey, you with me?”

Arduously slowly, (Y/N) follows the sound of his voice. She blinks at him, gulping and saying, dry as the Sahara. “Nole.”

It’s the most glorious thing he’s ever heard. The smile that pulls at his mouth is unconscious, ripped from him almost against his will. He goes to touch her face, hands shaky and reverent. “Yeah. Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me.”

He offers her a drink and grips her hand all through the nurse’s examination, which she passes with flying colors. While she’s tinkering with her IV, (Y/N) asks him, “Bellevue?”

“Yeah,” he says grimly, thumb rubbing soothing motions against her skin, trying to infuse some warmth.

“Shot?” she wonders next.

Nolan hesitates. “You don’t remember?”

“Guessin’,” she slurs, tired, blinks getting longer each time she closes her eyes.

The nurse pipes up then with the same explanations she’s given Nolan the past few weeks: the bullet to her heart, the long-lasting surgery, and the even longer coma. (Y/N) nods in all the right places but her head rests against the pillow and her expression remains blank, like she’s not retaining any information.

“Anyone… else?” she asks.

“No,” Nolan responds, watching how tension falls off her frame when he confirms this fact. He wishes he felt the same, a selfish part of him wishes it had been someone else; Liv or Amaro or Fin here in this hospital bed instead of his wife. It’s true, even if the thought is followed by guilt. “No, everyone’s fine, honey. Working their asses off and worried out of their minds, but okay. It’s just you.”

(Y/N) hums and then promptly falls back asleep, breaths settling into an even rhythm. It’s then that his eyes water and his tears fall on the scratchy hospital sheets where (Y/N) lays. Oh, Nolan thinks, almost surprised by them. So this is what it takes.

Nolan bows his head and lets himself cry in silence. His breath keeps hitching, and the nauseating feeling of panic he’s been nursing for weeks finally explodes. He can’t feel his hands and feet, body numb all over.

The next time he looks up, hours later, is because (Y/N)’s reaching to touch his face, tender and shaky. He snaps to attention like a soldier called to his battalion, but there’s no trouble chasing after them, no bad thing happening for once. They’re okay, alone and safe in her hospital room while nurses and doctors and visitors keep passing by just outside the door.

“You haven’t slept,” (Y/N) croaks out as she drops her hand from where she’d been gently pressing at the bags under Nolan’s eyes, tired from that simple movement. Her chest rises and falls with breaths that are a little too labored, but her eyes are fixed on her husband, worried. “Nole.”

It almost makes him smile: (Y/N) worrying about other people while she lies with a hole in her heart on a hospital bed. Nolan would laugh if he were sure it wouldn’t immediately turn into crying again, but there’s nothing funny about this. Nothing.

“‘m alright,” he promises, weak and croaky and wet from previous cries. (Y/N) looks a little too out of it, but also like she doesn’t believe him for a moment. He amends: “I will be. And so will you. You’re gonna be okay, honey.”

happy new year!!! i wanted to start the year giving you a little something after being so absent the last couple of months and i've had this piece in my drafts for ages! it was originally waaay longer but i thought i'd end it on a happy note and maybe make a part two if anyone's interested?

anyway! i hope you guys enjoy what has become one of my favorite pairings to write and i hope you had a good time last night and a great 2024! thank you for reading!

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idontplaytrack · 30 days

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Mama Bear

olivia benson x teen daughter reader + younger brother noah (ft. amanda & fin)

warnings: fluff, slight descriptions of vomiting

in which reader falls sick for the first time in a long time, driving olivia into full on mama bear mode while having to juggle work and also making sure that noah was taken care of

Olivia was making breakfast when she heard your usual morning alarm clock go off. However, when you didn’t turn it off like you usually would, she initially thought you just wanted to laze in bed for a little bit. Still ten minutes go by, you didn’t walk out and your alarm went off again. That caused alarms to go off in her head. Olivia turned the stove off and walked up to your room, knocking on the door.

“y/n, time to wake up, honey.” She opens the door after that, surprised to see your curtains closed and the blanket basically covering your head completely.

“No.” You mumbled into your pillow.

You never did this. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Her immediate reaction was honestly to worry, but she didn’t show it. Obviously. But it’s not like you could see her face.

“My head hurts so bad, Mom.” You croaked.

Now, the panic really set in. She hasn’t heard you admit you weren’t feeling well in at least 3 years. It was always an occasional cold or headache that you got, but this time around? You were really beaten down.

“Is sissy okay, mama?” Noah asked, Olivia turned her head to see him standing in your doorway.

“She’ll be okay, she’s just not feeling too good this morning. Give me a minute and I’ll bring you breakfast, okay, honey?”

“Okay.” The boy agreed quickly and left you and Olivia alone again.

“Baby, can you sit up for me please?” She requested, her hand rubbing your back comfortingly, “Is it just your head that hurts?”

“I don’t know.” You managed to tell her, your lower lip quivering, signalling to her that you were about to cry. Something she’s always knew about you- you cry easily when you’re ill. “My ears? I can’t- I can’t really hear that well on one side.”

“Oh, I think you have an ear infection, sweetheart.” Olivia realised, “Just- stay here and give me a minute to get Noah sorted.”

Olivia rushed back outside to give Noah his breakfast of pancakes and scrambled eggs then grabbed her phone to text Lucy to come over and keep an eye on Noah, then she texts Fin to tell him that she won’t be at work that morning, explaining why as well. He didn’t even need an explanation.

————

The doctor confirms Olivia’s suspicions of an ear infection. A double ear infection, an after effect of a cold which caused there to be fluid buildup in your inner ears and a bit of hearing loss — which thankfully, will resolve once the prescribed antibiotics kick in and run its full course. The doctor also gave you three days off of school in order to recuperate. But let’s face it, even if she didn’t, you would’ve stayed home anyway- even normal talking had you flinching. You couldn’t imagine spending a whole day in school feeling like this. Your head also felt like it was going to explode if people kept talking to you. It even hurt to open your mouth- so eating was the least of your worries currently. Finally, after a noisy drive, you were back home. Once the front door opened, Noah tackled you with a hug. “Hi, bubby.”

“Sorry you’re not feeling good.”

“Thanks, bub.” You ran a hand through his hair.

“y/n, go to your room and I’ll bring you a little something to eat before you take your meds, hm?”

“Okay.” You quietly agreed and walked into your room.

“So, what’d the doctor say?” Asked Lucy.

“Double ear infection, bit of a hearing loss in one ear but it’ll go away once the meds take effect.”

“That’s good. Do you want me to just keep an eye on her too so you can go to work? I know how much you hate missing work.”

Olivia chuckles, “Ah, I think a bit of time off would do me some good. I already told my squad I won’t be going in today.”

Lucy nodded.

“Yeah, so you can go if you want.” Olivia says.

“No, it’s okay. My day’s free. It’ll probably be better if I stay for a little longer, at least. Seeing that you probably need to take care of y/n.”

“Thank you.” Olivia smiled lightly, proceeding to go boil some water in the electric kettle in order to make you some oatmeal. She slathers a couple tablespoons of peanut butter onto the top of the oatmeal before bringing it to you on a tray, along with a cup of water.

The worst symptom was the unpredictable, sudden stabbing pains that you’d get that will literally bring tears to your eyes. “Okay, I need the painkillers.” You told your mother decisively.

“I’ll bring it for you now. But here’s some oatmeal so the meds won’t hurt your stomach, okay?”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Flashing you a smile, she leaves the room to retrieve your medications from the dining table. You fought through the ache and ate a few spoonful of the goop, though you actually really liked it…despite how unpleasant it may look. Your Mom knew exactly what you liked to eat and how you liked it.

“Here, take this for the pain and fever first. Eat a bit more oatmeal then take one of these antibiotics pills, okay?” She took them out for you, then she just sits there with you. You nodded wordlessly and just did as she told you to.

“Take the antibiotic pill with the oatmeal, honey.” She suggested- no, reminded you. “I know it’s hard for you to do it, but please?”

You whined.

“You need to take it, baby.” She cups your cheek, stroking it with her thumb, “Otherwise the pain will just get worse and we don’t want that.”

You held your breath and put the pill in your mouth, swiftly chasing it with a spoonful of oatmeal. You swallowed the whole mouthful before the chalky medicine could dissolve too much.

“That’s my girl.” Olivia smiled of relief, “Okay, you still want the oatmeal?”

“No, thanks.”

“Alright, I’ll take of that. You get some rest.”

————

When evening comes around, you were still asleep. You fell asleep a good four hours ago and only got woken up when you heard a new voice. Wait- it was one you recognised. Fin’s

“She’s in her room. Asleep.” You heard your Mom tell him.

“It’s okay, I just wanted to drop this off. Got her a little something to cheer her up.”

You groggily sat up in your bed then stood up, dragging yourself on your feet to the bathroom. Randomly shivering, now that you were away from the warmth of your sheets and blanket. You hurriedly washed your face with the cleanser to rid it of the greasy feeling. When you made your way out to the living room, he was still there, playing with Noah.

“Oh, you’re up.” Olivia realises.

“Yup.” You forced a smile.

“Hey.” Fin greeted you.

“Hi Fin. Thanks for the uh…thing you got me.” You said.

“No problem. It’s just a little something.” He shrugs.

“Mom, where- where’s my water bottle? I can’t find it. I thought I had it in my room.”

“Ah, I just washed and refilled it for you. It’s in the fridge.” Olivia recalls. While you drank some of that cold water to hydrate, Fin was chatting with your Mom- Telling her she didn’t have to worry about work. But you all knew her and knew that as much as she was a loving mother, she also loved her job and would be working all day if life allowed her to.

“Just go back to work tomorrow.” You pretty sure you slurred.

The adults glanced at you, slightly amused. “You heard her.” Fin says.

“Are you sure?” Oliva asks.

“I’ll just be clingy tonight, then I’m pretty sure I’ll feel a bit better tomorrow- better enough to not be clingy.” You shrugged, sitting at the table, gripping onto your cold, olive coloured Nalgene with both hands. Noah laughs. You did too.

Your gaze falls on the box of chocolate on the table in front of you. Your fingers reached out to peel off the clear plastic wrap. “Ooh, can I have one? Please, sissy?”

“Sure, Noah.” You cleared your throat, chuckling. “Here, pick one.”

“Yay!” He cheered, jumping off the couch and running over to you to take a look at the selection.

“Fin, you really shouldn’t have.” Olivia says.

“Can’t stop me. Or Carisi and Rollins who are on their way with dinner.” He shrugs.

“Oh, my God.” Liv inhales. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I wanna mess with you right now?” He squinted, “Look, I got one grandkid, the squad’s kids are like my own, too. Just let me spoil ‘em once in awhile.”

“Once in awhile? You get her a box of chocolates and some chips every month.”

Fin laughs, “We all need a little treat.”

As if on cue, there was a string of knocks on the door, making you jump and seethe in pain. Noah looks at you worriedly for a moment. “I’m okay, bubs. Just my ears being a little sore.”

He nodded, quickly more interested in the box of chocolates once again. Liv got up to answer the door, giving you a squeeze on the shoulder when she walked by you.

“Sorry, I should’ve given them the heads up to not knock.” Fin said.

“It’s- it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

————

Unexpectedly, your stomach felt heavy after dinner. Like it just did not feel right. But, everyone else seemed right as rain. You deduced that it must’ve been a side effect of the antibiotics. By then, Fin and Carisi had left, Noah was sitting with Olivia and Amanda when you got up from your seat on the couch, leaving Amanda alone chatting with your Mom. You quietly retreated to your bedroom, and sat on your bed, wishing for the sickening feeling to pass.

You hear the creaking of your door, causing you to look up. Amanda leans on the doorframe asking if you were okay. “Uh, not really?”

“Do you need me to get your mom?”

“I don’t- think so. Just the antibiotics making me feel a little, ugh.” You took in a sharp breath, then a sip of water- slowly. “Oh, God.” You jerked, scrambling to your bathroom. A very worried Amanda trails after you. The little bit of food you had for dinner spills out from your mouth, leaving an extremely uncomfortable burning sensation in your throat. You felt a hand on your back, and the blonde’s voice assuring you at you were okay. Seconds later, another voice- your Mom’s.

“She’s alright. The antibiotics upset her stomach.” Amanda says. “You ready to get back into bed?”

You nodded, “I want to- uh, rinse my mouth.”

“Okay, easy, easy. You got it.” Amanda held onto you while you hear your Mom fluffing your pillows then she leaves, and returns. You hear the sound of a plastic trash can hit your floor.

Amanda helps you back into bed, your Mom pulls the blanket up to cover you properly. “Thanks.” You smiled, now feeling a tad embarrassed about what’d just happened.

“Don’t mention it,” The blonde smiled, “Feel better soon, hun. I’m gonna get goin’, Liv. I’ll see you back at work soon,”

“Alright. Good night, Amanda.”

You watched her leave, then your gaze pans over to your Mom. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine- go back to work tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay.” Olivia agrees, “I’m gonna leave your door open, so if anything- I can probably hear you better, alright?”

“Alright.” You shrugged.

She presses a kiss to the crown of your head,“Good night, sweet girl.”

#law and order svu #svu #l&o svu #olivia benson #x reader #reader insert #alternate universe #odafin tutuola #noah porter benson #amanda rollins #sonny carisi #mariska hargitay

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