Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.

"You gonna talk about it?" He had his lips almost pressed together, his jaw clenched. He swirled a short glass of whiskey in his hand, the ice clinking against the sides breaking the silence.

"Are you?" She returned his question, refilling her own glass. She took a long sip, grimacing as she swallowed.

He sighed, scooted closer to her, and let his left hand fall into her lap. He cupped her knee, smoothing his hand up and down her thigh. "I, uh, I may have told her...I fantasize about killing the bastards we arrest." He raised both brows and sighed, downing the rest of his drink. "Told her how I deal with most of the shit we see at work."

"What did...what did you say?" she asked, grabbing the bottle off the bar and sliding it toward him.

He grabbed it and poured another glass, and then he said, "I told her I hug my kids...and, um, I may have told her there's someone in my life that...helps me escape all of it." He smiled at her.

She scoffed, though. "So now she thinks you use sex as an escape. That's not..."

"No, that's...that's not how it came out. The anger...she asked about my temper, my issues at work controlling my emotions." He shrugged and took a sip of whiskey. "That's not news, it's not surprising, I just...I wish she'd done this whole damn thing on a day we didn't have to deal with a piece of shit like Randolph Morrow." He made an irritated face and drank what was left in his glass. "You okay? He treated you like shit, and i know the way you were looking at Elena..."

"I'm fine," she interrupted, slamming her now-empty glass down. "We deal with misogynistic assholes like Morrow every day, they never get to me."

He slid his hand up a bit higher on her thigh, dipping it toward her heat. "You were already upset because of that evaluation. Your buttons were, uh, easier to push." To drive his point home, he pushed the side of his hand against her, rubbing hard.

She closed her eyes and moaned softly, almost forgetting they were in a crowded bar. "He's a nasty son-of-a-bitch," she said, unsure of how far Elliot would take things. "He pissed you off, too."

"No one talks to you that way," he said, his voice gravelly. He rubbed again, harder, pressing into her deeper. "No one treats you like that and gets away with it."

"Elliot," she warned, one of her hands falling to his wrist. She tried to stop his movements, but he was stronger, more determined. "Jesus," she hissed, closing her eyes again.

He just chuckled, low and deep. "You know, I think that doctor knew exactly who I was talking about when I told her the woman who made all the horrors go away was the only person I trusted, the only woman I ever gave myself to, really...completely. She made me talk about you...how we work together...how much I trust you, and God, when I talked about you, I got this look on my face...this stupid smile...so I'm pretty sure she figured it out."

"Well, that's not good," she laughed, dropping her head to his shoulder and her hand to his lap. If he wanted to play, she'd play. She cupped his semi-hard cock through his pants and ran her palm over him in light strokes. "That's asking for trouble." She squeezed, making him moan.

He cleared his throat, his free hand grabbing the bottle of whiskey. He poured a glass for her and one for himself as he asked, "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing," she said, moaning as his hand worked her into an uncomfortable wetness. "Just answered her questions. Except...God, Elliot," she turned her head and bit his shoulder.

He laughed, mildly evil, and said, "What, baby? Except what?"

"I let her get to me with one," she confessed. "She asked...what I would do if I couldn't be a cop. I lost it. I think...I think I started crying."

He stopped moving his hand, he stopped moving at all, and he kissed her forehead. "Look at me," he said. When she met his worried eyes, he asked, "What did you tell her?"

She exhaled, shaking, and said, "When I finally got my shit together, I told her I honestly didn't know. I said I would maybe be a child advocate, or run a crisis center, and I told her...God, I told her I wanted kids. The woman just finished recounting my horrible reason for even being in the unit in the first place, she brought up my childhood, and my shoddy relationship with my mother...and then I tell her I want kids." She bit her lip and downed her whiskey in one shot. "I think she's going to have me committed."

"Honey," he said softly, pulling her closer to him, "Everyone wants a family. She's not going to think that's an issue."

She grinned at him. "Oh, I, uh, I think she knows who I want them with." She let her lips brush against his. "You came up...a lot."

"Oh, did I?" he questioned, rocking into her hand, which was still splayed over his clothed dick. He heard her growl slightly and he moaned as he captured her lips in a hot kiss. "What about me?" he asked breathlessly.

"I told you," she said, nipping at his lips again as she grabbed his now-fully-hard cock through his pants. "She asked about my family."

He grunted and said, "We really know how to completely screw ourselves over, don't we?"

She smirked and nodded, moving further into him. "Gonna do it again if we don't get out of here."

"Wicked," he whispered against her lips, tugging at her belt-loops. "You are a wicked, wicked woman." Just as he was about to rise and pull her up with him, his cell phone rang. "No," he groaned, "Fucking...not tonight." He shoved his hand into his pocket and practically ripped the phone out of his pants. "Stabler," he spat viciously. He went white, hearing the voice on the other end. "No, uh...no, Cap, nothing like that at all. I promise. You did? She did, huh?" He eyed Olivia, the color in his cheeks returning only slightly. "We...we'll be right there. Um, why us, though? Oh, yeah, we...we did kind of warn..." he paused, gulping. "That was...just us being honest, it doesn't mean...what you think it means." He reached for her hand and knotted it tightly with his. "We're on the way."

"What was that all about?" she asked, watching him tense up again as he put his phone back into his pocket. "Babe?"

"Cragen," he said, pulling her gently toward him. He kissed her quickly and started to guide her through the bar. "He was looking over all of the notes that doctor left him, and he, uh, has a couple things to talk to us about."

"Now?" she asked, her eyes wide. "El, baby, we aren't exactly sober."

"Yeah, I know," he grumbled, pulling her out into the night. He dragged her to the curb and raised a hand. "We'll have to try to smarten up in the taxi, and if we can't we just...fake it."

She smirked and let out a light chuckle. "I don't fake anything with you," she told him, her voice dripping with the remnants of arousal and lust from his actions in the bar.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he said, rolling his eyes and licking his lips. As the yellow cab pulled up to them, he opened the door for her and slid in next to her. He gave the driver the address of the station, and then looked at Olivia and said, "Cragen said...the doctor told him someone in the unit...shouldn't be in the unit anymore."

"Oh, my God," she whispered. That one, single thought was enough to sober her up. "Did he say who?"

Elliot shook his head. "Neither of us, but, uh, I'm pretty sure he really knows about us now, and that's what this little chat is going to be about, but he's not firing us." He took her hand and said, "That whole unit would fall to shit without us, and he knows it." He laughed smugly and ran the pad of his finger over the side of her hand. "And I'm glad he knows. It gets harder and harder to hide this, you know?"

"He wouldn't fire Munch, not when he's close to retirement age," she said, ignoring Elliot's cracks about rubbing their relationship in Cragen's face. "You think...you think it's Jeffries?"

Elliot bit his lip and nodded. "Cragen hinted at it. He wanted to know how we knew something was wrong, and he knew she was close to a meltdown after that shit with that reporter."

She sighed and leaned against him, dropping her head to his shoulder, and she said, "What if he splits us up?"

"He won't," he said, firmly, certain.

"How do you know?" she asked, a bit of fear in her voice. "He's always said we shouldn't get involved with other people in the unit, and he knows damn well that we're closer than..."

"Yeah," he said, cutting her off. "He knows. He's always known, and we're still together. I'm pretty sure a blind man in Calcutta could see the way I look at you, so yeah, he's always fucking known. But baby, we don't have to worry about that, because we haven't let it get in the way of our jobs, it hasn't damaged a victim, a case, or the unit. We may be slaves to each other, in every single way, but from seven-in-the-morning till the case is closed, we're slaves to the job, and he fucking knows that, too."

"That was poetic," she joked.

"It was the truth," he told her. He looked at her for a moment, and then he kissed her deeply and held her tight. "Whatever he asks, I'm going to be honest with him."

She looked up at him and knew, without a doubt, her life was about to change.

Peace and Love

Jo

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