A/N: Elliot did something he swore he would never do, but he did it for a reason.
DISCLAIMER: SVU and related characters/ideas belong to Dick Wolf. Original plot and dialogue belong to TStabler©
"Woah, honey," Elliot said, walking into the kitchen, waving a hand in front of his face, "Easy on the bleach."
"Lizzie had something growing in here," Olivia said, sticking her head out of the fridge. "At least that's what I'm telling myself, because I refuse to believe you let things get this bad in here." She scrubbed her sponge over a stained spot on the shelf.
Elliot chuckled. "Hey, Kathy did most of the housework. I guess when she decided she was done with us, she stopped caring."
"And that meant you couldn't clean out the refrigerator?" she teased. "You yelled at me for…"
"I used to yell at you for not having anything in it," he interrupted.
She laughed and moved, wiping down the front of the fridge. "Still," she said. "We've got four kids in this house. This was just unsanitary."
"You're so bored," he said, shaking his head. "You are actually cleaning, because you're bored."
She looked at him for a moment. "I can't just want to keep the house clean so the kids…"
"Liv," he said, blinking slowly.
She sighed and tossed the sponge into the sink. "Fine. Yes. Okay? I am bored out of my mind! You left me alone for ten minutes to take a shower, and I went completely crazy. I need to be out there, chasing pedophiles or punching rapists or…"
"I'm out of the shower now," he said, raising an eyebrow. He smirked and crooked his finger at her.
She grinned and moved toward him slowly. "I smell like bleach," she said." Be warned."
He laughed as his arms wrapped around her and he kissed her deeply. "I'm sorry being stuck here with me all day is killing you."
She shook her head. "No, when I'm with you, I don't mind. It's when I'm left to my own devices that I just get pissed off." She kissed him and asked, "Have you heard from Cragen?"
He shook his head as he wound his fingers through her hair. "Talked to Munch, though. And I, uh, called someone. A friend. He's gonna help."
She pulled away from him and tilted her head. "Who did you call?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No one you know," he told her. "Just someone who's gonna get close to Tucker, without being noticed, and find out if…"
"El," she broke in, "Who did you call?"
He rolled his eyes. "Why does it matter, baby?" he asked, huffing.
"Because I know you, El," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly, trying to read him. "You don't ask for help, so this is something huge, and…"
"Porter," he said, under his breath, with his mouth closed.
"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "What?"
He ran a hand down his face and said, "I called Porter, okay? I swallowed my pride and asked the fucker to help us out. He's already got a guy tailing Tucker, and someone down the block, watching the house."
She studied him for a moment. "You're really scared, aren't you?"
He wrapped his arms around her again and tugged her toward him. "If it was just me he was after I wouldn't give a shit. You know that. I'd go on with my life, I'd let him try it. But you…knowing that it's you he wants to…"
She kissed him, effectively shutting him up. She ran the fingers of her right hand up and down his neck, letting the kiss remain soft, sweet, and languid.
He pulled her up by her waist, wrapping her legs around his torso, and he held on as they kissed, as they moved into the living room. He was almost to the bedroom door, when a knock the door broke them apart. Without putting her down, he moved toward the entrance. He looked through the peephole, smirked, and opened the door.
"Elliot I…hi, Olivia," Dean Porter said, eying them suspiciously.
She chuckled, knowing now why Elliot had such a smug grin on his face. She dropped to the floor and said, "Hello, Dean."
"Am I interrupting something?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," Elliot said, his cocky grin still in place. "So tell me what you want and get out of here so we can go back to doing what you've interrupted."
Dean looked at her, then at Elliot, and then he understood why Elliot had called. He cleared his throat and said, "Tucker's your guy."
"How…how do you know?" Elliot asked, his grip on Olivia's hip tightening.
Dean handed Elliot a file. "You said he was drinking a lot of Pepto, right?"
Elliot flipped through the file quickly, then looked at Olivia. "There were trace amounts of antacid on the bodies of the last four vics. He was downing the stuff because he was nervous, guilty and making himself physically sick."
Olivia took the file out of his hand and flipped through it. "Handwriting analysis? How did you…"
"I had a guy get into the offices," Dean said. "He took a few things. I helped your guy compare the samples from Tucker's desk to the note that was pinned to your last vic. Perfect match." He smirked and said, "Also found a pair of black leather gloves and a stack of pictures from the crime scenes. As the crimes were…in progress."
"He took pictures?" Elliot asked, stunned.
Dean nodded. "It's in Cragen's hands now, but the way I see it, the two of you will be back to work tomorrow. I'm leaving Johansson down the street tonight, though. In case we're all wrong."
Elliot looked at the man for a few seconds. He felt a mixture of emotions, but right now, all he felt was gratitude. He held out his hand and nodded once. "Thanks," he said.
Dean took Elliot's hand, shook it, and said, "Anytime, Stabler. Like you, I'd do anything to keep her safe." He looked at Olivia once more, then walked back down the steps.
Elliot closed the door and sighed. "Damn, man. Tucker? He was always so…"
"Yeah," Olivia said, shaking her head. "At least it's over," she said with a shrug, moving toward the kitchen again.
He nodded and hummed in agreement. "I just can't believe Tucker would do this. This is so…I mean, this took skill. Real intelligence, and stealth, and he just…those were qualities I never thought that man possessed."
She poured him a cup of coffee, and one for herself, then walked back over to him She handed him his mug as she said, "You never really know anybody, El."
"I know you," he said, sipping his coffee. He sat on the couch, and he watched her as she followed, sitting beside him.
"Really?" she questioned. "How well do you think you know me?"
He licked his lips and looked at her. "I know you remember every important moment in your life, precisely. Down to the minute." He watched her eyes flash and he smirked. "I know you pretend to get irritated at sappy movies, but you really wanna cry because you're actually into them. I know that when you get sick all you wanna do is lie in bed with that blanket with the sleeves and have someone hold you until you fall asleep. I know that during sex, when you're really enjoying yourself, you curse in Italian. I know the faces you make when you're annoyed, upset, thinking, and I know the looks in your eyes. Every one of them. Like right now, you're looking at me, and I know that you honestly can't believe how well I really do know you, because everything I said has been right."
"Latin," she whispered.
"What?" he questioned, blinking.
She smiled at him. "It's not Italian, it's Latin," she said. "And I'm not cursing, I'm…it's like a prayer, but not to any kind of a god or anything." She held his gaze as she shrugged a bit. "Everything else was pretty much dead on."
"Really?" he questioned, acting overtly surprised. He took another sip of his coffee and he chuckled. "So how many other men have made you pray in Latin?"
"Just you," she told him. "I didn't even think I remembered it, until that night in the shower."
He laughed and took another sip of his coffee. "Felicitor mori. What, uh…I mean, I get if it's personal and you don't want to tell me, but…"
"Literally, it means 'happily dying, but it's a saying. It means, 'if I die at this moment, thank you for seeing that I die happy," she said with a soft smile.
"You feel like I'm killing you?" he laughed, playing with her hair.
She leaned into him. "El, with you, my heart starts pounding faster than it ever has. It's scary, and every nerve in my body tingles, every muscle tenses and burns, and for a few seconds, I feel like I'm dying. But it's the most beautiful death in the world."
"Wow," he whispered, kissing her, tangling his fingers in her hair again. "I thought it was just me," he chuckled.
She shook her head. "Guess not."
"I love you," he said, putting down his mug. He looped both arms around her and asked, "How do you say that in Latin?"
"Te amo," she laughed. "Some Latin phrases really are Italian." She kissed him, nuzzled his nose a bit, and whispered, "Semper te amo."
He deepened the kiss at her words, and against her lips he whispered, "I will love you forever, baby."
She pulled away and cocked an eyebrow.
"I went to Catholic school for eighteen years," he said with a grin. "I speak perfect Latin." He winked at her, laughed with her, and kissed her again.
He had plans for their evening, and as soon as the kids got home, he would fill them in, and pray, not in Latin, that they would go along with them.
A/N: Well…I wonder what he's planning…review here, or on Twitter: TMG212