A/N: A little conversation.
DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and all related characters. TStabler owns the following story.
She tried to keep a cool demeanor and smiling face as she watched Elliot make his way back to the table. She bit her lip as she took in his slumped over form as he plopped back into his chair. She had heard every word of that phone call he'd excused himself to take a minute ago. Maybe merely moving himself behind a potted plant right next to their table wasn't the best idea, but then again, maybe he wanted her to hear to hear it. "Everything okay?" she asked him, trying to grin.
"Please," he held up a hand. "You know it's not, and I don't want to talk about it. I want to put it all on the back burner, I want to have a nice dinner. I don't need the distraction or the depression, and I want to focus on you. Us. The case." He grimaced as he took a long, hard gulp of his iced water.
She brushed her hair behind her ear and pulled her napkin from the table to her lap. "Well, okay, then," she said with a nod. "Just out of curiosity, do your legs hurt?" she asked, squinting at him. "I can't really feel mine."
He smirked, still holding his glass close to his lips. "Ya know," he chuckled, "I've had fantasies where you tell me you can't feel your legs. But, uh, in them...it's not because you were riding a horse."
Her eyes widened, her heart stopped. "Elliot!"
He laughed and put his glass down, then reached across the table for her hand. He took it in his, then rubbed the side of her palm with his thumb. "Like you haven't had fantasies?" he accused. "You've never, not once, ever imagined us working late, alone? Cragen leaves his office door open...one thing leads to another...you and me...we end up on the desk giving new meaning to the word 'overtime."
She pulled her hand away from his and grabbed her water, drinking most of it as she tried to keep from blushing. "I can't...wow. You have...the world's most unbelievable ego."
"Oh, come on," he huffed, leaning back again. "I think we're way passed pretending here, Liv, I mean...what...over a decade..." he stopped, licked his lips, and looked at her. "I can't be wrong. Liv, I...am I?"
She took a breath and looked into his eyes, seeing so many things she'd either never seen before or just ignored. "No," she almost whispered. "But, El, you said it yourself, we don't need the distraction right..."
"You...are a very welcome distraction," he said, half-kidding. "Besides, uh, I'm supposed to be fawning all over you, right? We are playing newlywed, here. Gotta make it convincing." He wrapped two fingers around the stem of his empty champagne glass. "Now that...you know...that's out in the open," he began, his eyes soft and narrow, "How much was really pretending? As many times as we've done this, the looks, the touching, the kissing...how much of it was really all just an act on your end?"
"Oh," Olivia pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow. "Uh, well you know...just like...maybe about...um...none of it." She shrugged and picked up a breadstick from the basket set between them. She peeled it into pieces as she said, "Even when you were faking it, you were the best boyfriend I've ever had."
He shot out his hand fast, covering hers as it gripped the soft bread. "I wasn't..." he made sure he was looking right into her eyes, holding her gaze. "I was never faking it."
It was the longest they'd ever stared at each other like that, or it seemed so. Their concentration was broken by the clearing throat of their waiter. "Compliments of the gentleman at table twelve," the young man said, holding a bottle of sweet champagne out to them. "He sends congratulations on your wedding."
Elliot smiled and took the bottle, then turned his head toward the man at table twelve. He nodded gratefully, then looked at Olivia. "Contact," he said, wrapping one large hand around the bottle as the other slipped up the neck.
Olivia jumped, a hand shooting to her chest, as the bang of a popping cork hit her ears. She laughed, along with Elliot, as he poured. "You ready for this?" she asked, taking her full glass from him.
"I have been ready for this for years, beautiful," he told her, putting the bottle down and smiling at her.
She blushed, unable to stop it this time, but she said, "I meant the case...El, are you ready to..."
"Oh!" he shook his head and cleared his throat. "Yeah, of course I am." He held out his glass. "To us. Partners. For better or worse."
She laughed and clinked her glass against his, meeting his eyes as they sipped together. She licked her lips and put her glass down, chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment, then said, "You sounded...I mean you have to know I heard you...talking to her." She slowly looked back up at his face, his eyes now darker, more pained. "You didn't tell me how bad it really was between you this time."
"Shit, Liv," he huffed. "I'm sorry you heard that, but it's...I didn't want you to get in the middle again, and I don't need you doing it now."
Olivia shook her head and pointed at him. "You usually talk to me, El. I'm the late night phone call or the midnight pizza, and...I know you just said you don't want to talk about it, but El, we're working, and I really don't need you flirting with me more than you usually would here because you're on the rebound and looking for a little extra attention. If you think something is gonna happen just because you're in the doghouse again, I..."
"Hold on," he said, suddenly a bit loud, a bit hurt. "First off, you would never be a rebound, ever. You mean fucking everything to me, you know you do! Second, I'm not holding anything back with you this time, I can't stop it, not here, not like this. And third, damn it, Liv, I don't want to talk about Kathy."
Olivia sat, stunned, staring at him. She watched as his nostrils flared a bit, his face reddened slightly, and she reached for his hand the way he'd reached for hers twice tonight.
He let her take it, and at once he calmed, noticeably. He inhaled deeply and then sighed, and his eyes closed. "She's selling the house. She's putting half of whatever it goes for in my account. Oh, yeah, and she's closing the joint account, giving me half of what's in there and then she's...leaving." He opened his eyes, lifting them to meet Olivia's. "I guess now there really is no rush to close this case and go home because...I don't really have a home to go to."
She gave his hand a squeeze, gave him a nod and a smile, and said, "Of course you do." She tilted her head at him when he smiled back at her, then asked, "What about the kids?"
"Hmph," he scoffed. "Maureen's still in Chicago working on her thesis, Kathleen's up in Scranton at school for another two years. Lizzie's off to Yale in the fall, Dickie's heading to West Point, so it's just me and Eli, at least until the summer." He ran a hand down his face. "You know how she told them?"
Olivia shook her head, unaware their fingers were locking together.
"She e-mailed them," he said with a snort. "Not individual messages, either. She sent a mass e-mail to my kids. 'Hey, how's school, you're father and I are getting a divorce, for real this time, don't drink and drive, love, Mom."
"I'm sure that's not what it said," Olivia shook her head and rolled her eyes.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with his free hand and gave it to her. "The first one in the inbox."
She tapped a few buttons, then read the e-mail, and slowly handed the phone back to him. "Okay, Stabler, I think you need something a little stronger than champagne."
He laughed and shoved the phone back into his pocket. "No, Liv," he sighed. "What I need, is time. A lot of time, alone, with the only person in the world who understands me, doesn't judge or mock, or dismiss me, the only person on this planet who has proved time and time again that I am just as important to her as she is to me, and that my complete faith and trust in her is not misplaced."
She raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you want, we could give your mother a call."
"Liv," he dropped his head and brought his hand, holding hers, up to his face.
"I know," she almost whispered. She closed her eyes. "I know." She felt him press a soft kiss to her knuckle, and she sighed. When she opened her eyes, their waiter was beside her again, this time with soup and salad, and she turned to him. "Would you please tell the man who sent us the champagne...that he's more than welcome to join us?"
"Indeed," the young man said, heading over to table twelve.
Olivia looked at Elliot, took a deep breath, and said, "Guess it's showtime."
A/N: Who is the man? What does he want? And what's the next step for Olivia and Elliot? Will it be one step too far?