AN: The response to this story has been awesome! It wasn't easy to write, so I'm loving that you're loving it…lol. Please continue to review and let me know what you think. I don't claim to be perfect and I try to read through for grammatical errors and punctuation. So don't hesitate to let me know if you see something I missed or if you simply like it or hate it. Without further ado, here's the next chapter.
Olivia and Elliot spend the morning strolling in and out of the shops of Madison Avenue. He pretends to hate watching as she tries on multiple dresses and shoes. She feigns disinterest when it's his turn to do the same. Truth told they love seeing one another in something other than business casual work attire. But as fun as it's been playing dress up the detectives have noticed a presence.
Both felt it nearly as soon as they stepped out into the crisp morning air. Someone is watching them.
Whoever it is probably fares better as a rapist and extortionist than someone used to surveillance work. They spotted the dark blue Chevy Impala almost immediately. The guy thought he was smart staying at least two cars away but Elliot still spotted him turning whenever they did.
He'd slipped his hand into Olivia's as soon as they began shopping. He knows they're just putting on a show but it feels good. Effortless.
"Back twenty yards, dark glasses, sandy hair, green polo, beige khakis," Elliot tells her. He sits with his back to the street at a sidewalk café so that Olivia can catch a glimpse as well.
"Got him," she says, leaning towards Elliot pretending to wipe something from his cheek. "He looks like an accountant," she comments, returning to her original position. Their tail looks a bit over six feet, athletically built and seems as though he could handle himself in a fight.
Elliot peruses the menu the waiter has left them, continuing with the charade.
"Well we both know how looks can be deceiving," he responds, picking up her hand to kiss it for emphasis.
She just nods in understanding. Olivia has to continuously remind herself that they're just pretending.
"If we're gonna convince him we need counseling we're gonna have to have a fight at some point."
Elliot knows that. He's just enjoyed touching her so freely he wanted to forget. When the waitress shows back up with their order he decides it's the perfect time.
"What is this?" he says to Mandi, as is printed on her nametag. "I specifically asked that no onions be put into my salad," he begins, raising his voice.
"I'm sorry sir," the poor waitress says. "I'll have them fix it immediately."
"You know, I just want things the way that I ask for them the first time," he continues. "I don't have time to sit here and wait for your chef to get his head out of his ass," his tells her, voice escalating.
"Jason it isn't her fault," Olivia interjects. "She said she'd get you another salad," she continues. "Let's just wait."
"Wait?" he asks incredulously, yelling and beginning to draw the attention of other patrons and passersby. "If you knew how to cook a decent meal Elaina, we wouldn't be sitting here at all," he tells Olivia, redirecting his fake rage.
Olivia looks shocked. He is really laying it on. Well if Elliot can do it then so can she.
"I work just as hard as you do Jason," Olivia starts, raising her voice as well. "I didn't go to law school to be your damned cook and maid!"
Mandi makes herself scarce, not wanting to be party to the scene they're creating.
"And who the hell paid for law school in the first damned place," he bellows back. "You were just a lousy paralegal when we met!"
They both seem to be trying to one up one another in anger and ridiculousness of accusation. It's a game they're old hands at. Slinging insults at one another is almost second nature.
"Screw you Jason," Olivia screams. "I stuck by you when all you were designing were playgrounds for the public school system," she hollers. "I had other options you know!"
At this point the manager shows up and asks them to leave. Elliot gets up swiftly, throwing his napkin down on the table. Olivia pushes her chair back nearly knocking it over.
"Well why don't you call one of those options for a ride," returns Elliot. "Because I don't want to be in the same car with you," he seethes before grabbing his packages and stalking off.
Olivia feigns just enough tears to be believable before hailing a taxi. She sees the sandy haired man as the car drives past him. He's at a newsstand pretending to read a magazine but they know he's just watched the whole scene play out.
Twenty minutes later Olivia is walking into the penthouse. Elliot has yet to arrive but she expects he won't be too far behind her. She didn't see the Chevy Impala following the taxi she took to their temporary home. Either the man decided to follow Elliot instead or he'd seen enough for the day.
Olivia decides to make chicken salad for lunch in light of the fact that they never got to eat at the sidewalk cafe. Two hours later when he still hasn't shown up, she's worried to distraction. Before she can freak out further Elaina's cell phone begins to ring.
"Hello," she says, sitting on the sofa.
"Elaina," responds a very drunk sounding Elliot. "I'm sorry baby."
Olivia literally breathes a sigh of relief.
"Jason where are you?" she asks. "I was worried sick," she continues in case the perp tapped their phone. He does have a technical background.
"I'm at Yacavelli's bar," he reveals. "I'm too drunk to drive."
"It's okay, I'll come get you," she tells him. "Give me twenty minutes," she says, already beginning to gather her jacket and purse.
"Thanks baby," Elliot says. "I'm really sorry."
"I'm coming Jas," she tells him. "Don't go anywhere okay," she says, closing the door behind her.
"Okay," he tells her. "Bye."
Olivia hails another taxi wondering how the hell Elliot ended up drunk in a bar in SoHo. It wasn't even happy hour yet. Their suspect must've opted to follow him after all.
When she arrives she sees her partner with his arms folded on the bar and his head buried inside them. He never was much of a drinker, not fitting the Irish stereotype at all. When she needed him to help her drink another failed relationship in Kurt Moss away, he couldn't get past two shots. Elliot is going to have a serious hangover at some point.
She approaches him, putting her hand around his bicep.
"He yours?" Asks the bartender.
"Unfortunately yes," she tells him, giving him a small grin. "Come on baby, time to go."
At her voice he slowly brings his head up. The look he gives her is so unbelievably pitiful it's cute.
"Hey look who it is Eddie," he says to the bartender, apparently having been there long enough to be on a first name basis with the man. "It's Elaina, my beautiful wife."
"You are one lucky bastard," says Eddie. "You got a gorgeous lady like this at home and you're here with my ugly mug," he comments. "You better let her take you home before someone wiser steals her away."
Elliot gets up from the bar as Eddie passes the car keys to Olivia.
"He's all settled up," he tells her. The captain will not appreciate one of his detectives getting drunk on the city dime so hopefully he'll understand.
"Thank you," she says, wrapping an arm around his waist as Elliot leans against her.
Olivia notices the same sandy haired man from earlier in the day, sitting in a back corner nearly in shadow.
"I love you baby," Elliot says loudly on the way out the bar.
Olivia ignores his affections as they walk down the block to the car. She straps him into his seatbelt and heads home. Elliot puts down his window hoping the air will sober him faster.
They stumble through the door and Olivia deposits her partner on a nearby sofa. She goes to the kitchen to get him a glass of water, hoping to flush the alcohol from his system faster.
When she returns to the living room Elliot has passed out in a sitting position. She leans him over so that he's lying on his side before removing his shoes. Olivia grabs a blanket from a nearby closet and covers him. She chuckles a bit at his dedication to their undercover op before leaving him.
Several hours later Elliot wakes up feeling as if he's been hit by a train. He has dry mouth and his limbs feel heavy. Olivia has left a glass of water with two aspirin sitting next to it on the coffee table for him. He drains the entire glass before getting up to brush his teeth and wash his face so he feels half way human again.
When he's finished he finds Olivia in the library reading up on their case file. She's lying on the leather sofa, her feet crossed at the ankles an arm folded behind her head.
"You look comfortable," he comments from the doorway, hands in his pockets.
She smiles at the sight of him, knowing how crappy he feels. Hopefully he's okay enough to fill in the blanks for her.
"How ya doing?" she asks, sitting up to make room for him on the sofa.
Elliot gingerly lowers himself next to her as if any sudden movement will kill him. His head feels like he was standing next to a cannon when it went off.
"Like something's trying to tunnel out of my brain," he tells her. "But the aspirin helped, thank you."
"You're welcome," she responds. "I'm guessing you had to continue the part of the angry husband."
"Yeah," he tells her. "I noticed the guy was still following me so I had to do something," he adds. "An angry husband isn't just gonna go straight home after a fight like that."
"Have a lot of experience with that type of situation?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.
"No, not really," he reveals. "Kathy was probably angrier at me more often than the other way around."
Not entirely comfortable with the topic she's chosen, Olivia decides to move on to something safer.
"So I was reading over the case files," she begins. "And I think I know how he's getting into these hotel rooms."
"Me too," he says, holding his hand to his head. "I remember that case we had some years back where the guy was breaking into hotel rooms just to prove he could."
She smiles at how good his memory is.
"Yeah," she nods. "If I remember right he was using some device of his own design," she tells him. "It quickly enters key code combinations until the lock pops."
Elliot sits back against the sofa, getting more comfortable.
"It probably only takes seconds," he deduces. "He's in before they realize he's made a noise at all."
"He strikes after two days," she reminds him. "But that doesn't mean he can't switch up his time table," she tells him. "Which means we're gonna be taking turns staying up all night."
Elliot groans at the thought rubbing his temples. Olivia is suddenly reminded of him doing the same for her when her head hurt. She has to turn away from him at the memory it invokes. This case can't be resolved fast enough. She feels like a hormonal teenager lately when he's in the same room.
"Then I guess we better enjoy this palace while we still have it," he tells her. "Don't let me stop you from filling that ridiculously large Jacuzzi tub I noticed in your bathroom," he says, garnering a smile from her.
Olivia truthfully wouldn't mind if he joined her in said tub. But they are working, he's dating someone else and they have to keep boundaries in place…temporary though they may be.
"Jealous," she asks, gathering the case files.
"Absolutely," he answers, emphasizing the word. "But please don't pass along to the guys that I enjoy bubble baths," he pleads. "I'd never hear the end of it."
She laughs at his request before she gets up, walking towards the doorway.
"I don't know," Olivia begins, teasing. "You're gonna have to come up with something good to bribe me with," she tells him, turning to look back.
Elliot rests the expanse of his arms across the back of the sofa sitting wide legged. He begins a slow visual exploration of his partner's body from head to toe. Never having been allowed to openly stare at her, he's enjoying himself.
"Oh I could think of something we'd both enjoy," he responds, smiling predatorily at her.
Olivia can't help the blush she feels covering her face. She swallows harshly trying to maintain her composure. Elliot's looking at her like he wants her for dinner. God help her if that's what he has in mind. 'Think of the case' is the mantra she repeats in her head to keep from returning to the sofa and straddling him where he sits.
She bites her lower lip, inadvertently teasing him.
"Your secret's safe with me," she says to him. "Why don't you refocus that energy into finding us something to eat," she advises as she leaves.
"Hey I made breakfast," he protests calling after her.
"And I made lunch," she informs, sticking her head back into the room. "But someone was in a drunken stupor so didn't get to enjoy it," she adds to poke at him.
Elliot gasps in mock incredulity.
"I did that to maintain our cover," he throws back.
"Still counts," says Olivia, laughing as she makes her way upstairs. She's waited nearly two whole days before deciding to marinate herself in the hot water and bubbles. Her fingers and toes will be good and prune-like before she gets out.
Elliot figures since they've fully stocked the refrigerator of the place, that ordering take out with their NYPD issued credit card is a no-no. He notices the grill plates on the fancy stove and decides to make something mouth watering for he and his "wife".
In a couple of hours he manages to whip up some steaks, mixed vegetables, rice pilaf and honey wheat dinner rolls. It's amazing what comes out of the frozen foods section of the supermarket nowadays. Elliot hopes his partner is as impressed with himself as he is.
If it wasn't for the enticing aromas wafting up her nose, she may have stayed in the tub just a bit longer. Her stomach however, has other plans. It grumbles loudly enough to make her laugh at herself as she steps out onto the bath mat.
Olivia dries off as she enters her bedroom. She moisturizes her skin with body oil before putting on her bra and panties, trying decide if it's too early to put on pajamas. They won't be leaving the penthouse again tonight. Elliot put on enough of a show for their suspect.
She decides that yoga pants and a matching tank will suffice. They hug all her curves so she adds a thin robe in an attempt to be modest. When she gets downstairs she's pleasantly surprised that Elliot has set the table already.
"I was just about to come and get you," he says, setting the bowl of rolls on the table, still warm.
"Wow El this looks great," she tells him, eying their plates. "And it smells good too," she adds, passing him to sit.
Elliot notices the scent of her body oil as she walks by.
"So do you," he says, grinning. "I made some iced tea," he informs her. "Hope that's okay."
"It's fine," she responds. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble El," she continues. "I thought you'd just make us a couple of burgers or something."
He returns with the pitcher of iced tea and pours them both a glass.
"We can eat that anytime," he begins. "I figure they stocked the fridge with all that great food, why let it go to waste."
Elliot went with a logical explanation but the truth is he wants dinners like this with her all the time. Without thinking about the potential dangers of the case, bringing up the woman he's been dating or any other negativity, they keep the conversation light. The detectives smile at one another occasionally and she compliments him on his cooking skills.
He's attentive to her during dinner refilling her glass and making sure she doesn't want any more helpings. When they're done he insists she doesn't lift a finger and won't even let her help load the dishwasher. Olivia leaves the table feeling like they've just been on a date.
She thanks him as they walk upstairs together heading for their separate bedrooms. The staircase is wide enough for them to walk side by side together. He reaches for her hand as they ascend, interlacing his fingers with hers.
Once they make it to the top of the stairs he brings up her hand to his lips, placing tender kisses along her knuckles. He's going to have a difficult time trying to intimidate her from now on if he keeps doing things like that. He lets go of her hand to wrap his arms around her back in an intimate embrace.
She doesn't hesitate to put her arms around his shoulders. Olivia feels comfortable, safe, wanted and loved when they're like this. It's never been so abundantly clear that they can no longer work together as it is now. She knows because it's too hard to let him go and she's looking forward to the day that she doesn't have to.
"Thanks for dinner," she says against his neck.
"You're welcome."
Olivia leans in to place a kiss to his cheek, whispering a 'good night' before pulling away.
"Night," he responds, watching as she walks into her room to close the door. As nice as the Jacuzzi she has must be, right now he's thankful for cold showers.
Next up: Accidental fireworks!