AN: I don't own anything Dick Wolf created, but I love it all, just the same. This isn't A/U however it's not cannon in that I've made Dickie and Lizzie younger than they would be on the actual show. For this story they're both juniors in high school. Kathy and Elliot are already divorced.

THURSDAY

"What are you doing," Elliot called out after the second crash of pots from the kitchen. Dickie had been in there all morning.

"Nothing, Dad, jeez. Relax, watch a game or something." This was supposed to be easy, Dickie muttered, hunching over the recipe Lizzie had printed out. Oh, sure! Leave me to make the lasagna while you go off shopping with Olivia! Who eats lasagna anyway? Jeez-"OUCH," he cried out as overheated olive oil popped in the skillet, stinging his face. This had better work. Man, Dickie thought, tossing in chopped shallots, parents have no idea all the things kids do for them.

"Thanks again for doing this," Lizzie called out from behind the fitting room door.

Over a decade on the job and Olivia could sniff a set up from a mile away, but two hours into dress shopping with Elliot's youngest daughter she still had no idea what her angle was. "I was surprised you called, Lizzie. This isn't really my forté. Everything ok?"

For a detective, Lizzie thought, she sure is dense. They both are. "Ok, Olivia, you've always been straight with me so I'm going to be straight with you. My dad is being a tight-ass about curfew."

Olivia rolled her eyes. Here it comes. "And what? You want me to talk to him? Liz, you could have asked me that on the phone," and saved me half an afternoon of mall-torture, she thought, sipping her coffee.

"Olivia, you know my dad. I want you to come over Friday and hang out. If he's got company he won't be watching the clock, waiting to pounce on me and Dickie if we're thirty seconds late."

"And just how late are you planning to be," Olivia arched a brow. "Lizzie your dad only has your best interest in mind, and midnight is a generous curfew. The dance is over at ten, that still gives you two hours to hang out."

Seriously, she can't be this slow, Lizzie thought, placing her new dress on the register counter. "Liv, I promise, we're going straight to the dance, then a big group of us are going to breakfast and I don't' think we'll be late, but just in case, please," she tried her sweetest smile and widened her eyes for effect.

"Elizabeth Stabler, don't you try sweetie pie routine on me. "Listen, even if I agreed to this, your dad would never buy me dropping in out of the blue on a Friday night. Your plan is flawed."

Got you right where I want you, Detective Benson, time to lock you in. "Simple: you can come help me get ready. Liv, trust me, this is for the best. Dad gets a break from his regular depressing lonely Friday night and you're doing Dickie and me a huge favor. Please? We'll owe you forever."

When Olivia only suppressed a smile and rolled her eyes, Lizzie knew their plan would work.

"There's my girl," Elliot smiled at his daughter from the doorway. "You're brother's gone Iron Chef on us, he's in there whipping up a lasagna," Elliot smiled and shrugged his shoulders at the anomaly, "you two find the dress?"

"Yeah," Olivia hooked her thumbs into her pockets and breezed past her partner, following Lizzie into the kitchen, where the pair was whispering rapidly, conspiratorial smiles playing on their faces. "Smells good, Dickie. I didn't know you liked to cook."

"Oh," he faltered, looking at his sister, "you know, ladies love a man in the kitchen."

"Really," Olivia moved closer. This kids' full of it, she thought, trying to hide a smile, he can't even get the words out without blushing. And he's checking with Lizzie before answering any questions? Oh, something is definitely up. "Looks tasty. Awful nice of you to make dinner on a school night."

"Livvy, lighten up," Stabler put in, "you're grilling him like a perp! Hey, the kid wants to make dinner, I'm not complaining—Lizzie you're on dish duty," he chuckled and went back to the living room.

"Listen," Olivia whispered as soon as he was gone, "I know something's up. So spill it now or I walk!"

"Keep your voice down," Lizzie peered around Olivia to make sure her dad was still on the couch. "Nothing's up. Dad can't cook and we wanted to make sure you had something to eat if you did come over tomorrow."

"Here," Dickie pulled two twenties out of his pocket, "take it."

"A bribe?" Olivia felt her pulse quicken. "Ok guys that's it. I don't know what you think you're doing, but I'm going to Your dad. Something's up and you're not being straight with me. This can't be about curfew," she turned on her heel, heading straight for Elliot when they both grab at her shoulders.

"Wait!" they whispered in unison.

"The money is for dinner tonight. We need an excuse to freeze the lasagna, Liv. You're a detective, put it together," Dickie sighed, knowing full well that she wouldn't really put it together. She couldn't. Their dad couldn't. But they could, and they had. And now what had started out as a joke over breakfast a week ago had blossomed into a real plan. And not soon enough, Dickie thought, you two need each other, even if you're too blind to realize it.

"Olivia, Dickie cooking is weird enough. If he tells dad it's for tomorrow and then you happen to drop by—that's a little suspicious. Right? So go out there and tell dad you want to treat us all to dinner tonight. Pizza. We'll tell him the lasagna needs to settle. It'll be fine," Lizzie strained to keep her voice down and her excitement in check. This is so going to work, she thought, they're totally clueless.

"Okay, I'm in. But I swear if you guys are more than ten minutes past curfew, I'll kick both your butts—or what's left of them once your dad is through."