Title: Tattoo
Author: Mai
Subject: How did Elliot get that butterfly tattoo?
Fandom: Law and Order: SVU
Rating: Mature Audiences
Disclaimer: Neither of these characters belong to me, though if Elliot were to get lost somewhere I'd be glad to take him in.
Spoilers: None, really. It's way pre-show.
Feedback: Certainly
Author's Note: Yes, I do have a pregnant lady drinking. Please remember, though, that at the time Elliot and Kathy had their first child it was not uncommon for doctors to recommend that pregnant women have a glass or two of wine at night to relax them. And yes, thanks and blame go to Milady Grey, without whom, etc, etc…
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"No, Elliot, I'm not in the mood!" Kathy pushed his hands away and walked into the tiny kitchen of their even tinier apartment. No, Kathy, be honest here, waddled. She waddled into their tiny kitchen. Five months pregnant and she already felt like a huge cow. She was fat and ugly and her feet hurt and Elliot had only married her because she was pregnant.
"Hey, you okay, Kath?"
Oh sure, she doesn't want to fool around so something must be wrong with her. And wasn't that just like a man! She turned around and glared at him. "I am fine, Elliot. Just fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
His eyebrows went up and he raised both hands defensively, "Woah, okay, whatever I did, I apologize."
She rolled her eyes at him, "You apologize. Sure. Fine. That makes everything just perfect. You're never home, never around when I need you. You've been late for dinner every night this week, but that's okay because you apologized. What else could I possibly want?" She went over to the stove and banged the pans around a little. "Go wash up. Dinner will be on the table in five minutes."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
He'd opened a bottle of red wine to go with dinner, nothing expensive, barely a step up from a screw top bottle, but it went well with the spaghetti and they both liked it. He complimented her lavishly on the meal - his words meaning less than the three helpings he had. She sipped her wine and tried to keep hold of her mad. Without much success.
He was just so... cute when he was being earnest. She tried telling herself he was just being nice out of guilt, because he'd knocked her up and gotten them both trapped into this marriage.
Not that she felt trapped most of the time. And not that she didn't love him, because she did. And even if he didn't say the words much, she knew he loved her. He put up with all of her griping and complaining, didn't he? Brought her flowers, rubbed her feet every night, and loved her so naughty it made her weak in the knees. Their first time together might have been something of a fiasco, but boy, was the man a fast learner.
He insisted on doing the dishes and made sure she was comfortably settled on the couch - feet up, wineglass refilled, novel in hand - before he started the cleaning up. She listened to the sound of running water and his cheerful whistling and began feeling guilty herself. He had such a tough job, on his feet all day, chasing down criminals, and when he finally got home did she greet him with love and affection? No. She snapped at him and pushed him away. What a terrible wife she was!
She heard the water shut off and brooded as he finished up and made his way back to the living room. By the time he sat down next to her she was almost in tears. "I'm a bitch, Elliot. I'm just a mean and terrible person."
His eyebrows went up again, "Hey, where did this come from?"
"I am. I really am. You should hate me, I'm so mean to you."
He leaned in and cupped her face gently, "Sweetheart, I don't hate you. I could never hate you. You're just having a bad day. You're entitled."
He kissed her then and she felt her head spin. "Elliot?"
"I love you, Kath. You know I love you."
She struggled to sit up more, to get closer to him, and inadvertently spilled the remnants of her wine down his back. There was a moment of stunned silence, then he began to laugh and she found herself joining in helplessly.
"Oh God, Elliot, I'm so sorry!" She tried to get herself back together, but the look on his face as he slowly peeled off his drenched shirt sent her into the giggles.
"Ya think this is funny, do you?" he said in his best mock-threatening voice. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to run you in for assaulting a police officer."
"Oh, no, Officer!" she managed in between the giggles. "On what charges?"
"I'm afraid that would have to be assault with a deadly wineglass and KUI."
"KUI?"
"Kissing under the influence. Don't even try to deny it. We both know how little it takes to get you drunk and you've had a good two glasses - okay, glass and a half," he said, ruefully looking at his shirt, "of wine. You leave me no choice here, ma'am."
She batted her eyes at him, "Isn't there anything I can do to change your mind?" She ran a finger down his chest and just under the waistband of his jeans, loving the way his stomach muscles clenched and his eyes darkened. "I'd be willing to do, just about, well... anything..."
He was kissing her before she managed to get the last word out, kissing her as if he thought he could crawl right inside her. She kissed him back just as fervently until she couldn't ignore the cold wet reality any longer.
"Your shirt," she gasped.
"Hell with my shirt," he muttered and kissed her again.
"No, really, your shirt!" she said again and pushed away from him slightly. He grudgingly backed off a few inches, then grinned when she pulled the drenched shirt out from between them and threw it on the floor, "Okay, now to hell with your shirt! Kiss me again!"
He wasted no time in doing just that.
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Later, much later, she lay in his arms, idly playing her fingers over the tattoo on his shoulder. "I've always liked this, you know. The Marine one, eh," she wiggled her hand noncommittally, "but this one I've always liked."
"Kath?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'm really sorry I haven't been here for you as much as I should have been."
She pushed herself up to meet his intense gaze, "Elliot, no. I was just, earlier... I was just having a bad day."
"No, you're right. I haven't been home enough, haven't given you enough attention. I've just…" he shook his head, "I've been working too much overtime. I know we agreed I would, so we could put away a little extra for when the baby comes, but it's too much. I swear to you, I'm gonna make it home for dinner - on time - every night from now on."
She snorted, "You're a cop, Elliot. That's not going to happen." She kissed him to take the chagrined look off his face. "But it's really sweet of you to say."
He wrinkled his face up, "All right, for two weeks then. For the next two weeks I swear to God I'm gonna make it home every night for dinner. Maybe a little late, but I'll be here."
"Swear to God, huh?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die."
"Huh..." A wicked little smile spread across her face. "And if you don't?"
"I will, I told you, I swear it."
"Well, I'm just thinking there ought to be some sort of penalty if you don't."
He smirked at her, "Like what?"
She pursed her lips and considered, fingers still stroking his shoulder, then grinned again. "A tattoo," she said triumphantly.
"Not exactly something I'm opposed to, so not much of a penalty," he started.
"Ah, but these are manly tattoos. If you lose you need to get a tattoo of... of..." She drummed her fingers on his chest as she contemplated. Then she looked up again and met his eyes mischievously. "Of a butterfly. A pretty little colorful butterfly."
"A butterfly?" he asked in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding -"
"Hey! Your promise, my penalty."
He rolled his eyes, "All right, a butterfly. God."
Kathy sat up. "You didn't ask where the tattoo was going to be."
"On my forehead, no doubt."
She giggled, "No, I think you'll like my idea better."
"Oh?"
She nodded innocently, then leaned over and began running her tongue down his chest.
"God, Kath... what...?"
She looked up his body without lifting her head, "I'm just seeing where it would feel best," she murmured seductively, then returned to trailing her tongue further down his stomach. "Don't move now.
She licked around his belly button and down over his right hip, trailing her hair provocatively over that part of him that was hard and ready for her once more. She stroked her tongue over him once, lightly, making him shudder and dig his fingers into the couch cushions to keep from holding her head there. "Hmmm... she said breathily, 'This might be an interesting place."
"At this point I'd agree to just about anything," he said shakily, "but..."
"I know," she said with a smile, "besides, I really don't want anyone else touching you there. So how about..." She turned her attention to the delicate area just below his left pelvic bone. "Yes, I think this might just do."
She licked him there, savoring his moan, tracing out the design with her tongue. "Yes, here. Agreed?"
"Agreed, " he managed in a strangled tone, "God, Kath..."
"And now I think you'd better take me to bed so we can deal with your little... 'problem' here." She stroked him lightly with her fingers as she rose.
She was in his arms almost before she saw him move. "Just one thing," he said as he carried her into the bedroom.
"What's that?"
"My 'problem'? Isn't little at all."
"Oh, I know," she purred. "Believe me, I know!"
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A week and a half later she was sitting alone at the dinner table with a grilled ham and cheese and a glass of milk when the phone rang.
"Hey," he said quietly, "I'm really sorry about missing dinner."
She shrugged, then realized he couldn't see her over the telephone, "It's all right, Elliot. At least you called before I got a big meal started, that's something."
"I just wanted to let you know I'm going to be a little later than I told you earlier."
She sighed, "All right, Elliot. Just... get home as soon as you can. I miss you."
"I miss you too, babe."
She hung up and looked glumly at the food in front of her. "Oh, to hell with it," she said and went to the freezer for the ice cream.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
When Elliot finally got home she was half-asleep on the couch. The first thing she noticed was that he was walking funny. She was instantly wide awake, "Elliot, my god, what happened? Are you hurt?"
"Not hurt, exactly," he hedged. "Look we're both tired. Could we take this into the bedroom?"
"Only if you promise to tell me what's wrong." She reached for him, but he hissed and held up a hand to keep her away. "Elliot...?"
"Just... in the bedroom, babe, okay?"
She hurried ahead of him, turning on the lights, desperate to know what was wrong.
"You remember the other night I promised you I'd be home for dinner every night?" He slipped his shirt off and started gingerly on his pants.
"Yes. Elliot, that doesn't matter, you're a cop, I understand. I just need to know what's -"
"And we made a little deal?"
"A deal?"
"About a certain butterfly decorating a certain very tender portion of my anatomy?" He hissed again as he slid his pants and underwear all the way off."
"A butter- ? Oh. Oh!" She blushed. "Elliot, I was drunk and... I didn't mean..."
"Well, just so you know I take my promises seriously..." He stood there in all his glory, a new, raw-looking butterfly perched proudly on his pelvic bone.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "You really did it. I'd totally forgotten. Oh God, I'm so embarrassed."
"Why are you embarrassed? I'm the one who's got needlemarks in a very sensitive area!"
"Elliot..."
"Don't ever doubt how much I love you, babe."
"Well," she couldn't stop the giggle that came up from inside her, "If I ever do, I guess all I have to do is ask you to drop your pants."
He grinned at her, "Now, if you'd just like to kiss it and make it better..."
-end-
Mai
7-13-05