A/N: Evolution

DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.

Elliot stood in his living room, the cup and pink stick shaking slightly in his hand. "Well?" he questioned. "Anyone wanna talk about this?"

Maureen squinted. "Is that..."

Lizzie interrupted her. "Oh, my God! Congrats, Liv! This is so cool! Can I name it?"

"It's not Olivia's," Elliot said, eying his two older daughters.

Kathleen's mouth dropped. "You...you cheated on...is it Mom's?"

"No!" Elliot shouted. "No, I...obviously, if it isn't Liv's and it was in the bathroom in this house..." he took a deep breath. "Just...tell me. I'm not gonna be mad, I swear. I..."

"It's not mine, trust me," Maureen said. Her arms were folded. "You'd have a reaffirmed belief in Jesus if it was."

Elliot sighed and laughed a bit. "Thank God for that, honey," he quipped with a nod. "Kat? Katie, honey, I..."

"Oh," the middle daughter scoffed. "Just because you know I'm not a virgin, it has to be mine?"

"Stop it!" Dickie yelled, standing suddenly. "Stop interrogating them like they're your suspects, Dad! It's mine, okay?"

Elliot was silent. He looked from his son to the cup in his hands, then back to his son. "Now is not the time to be protecting your sisters, spud."

Dickie closed his eyes and exhaled. "Not mine, personally, but...that baby..." He ran a hand through his hair and turned his back on his father. "It's Hannah's," he whispered.

Olivia went white, her eyes darted to Elliot. She saw the fear and disappointment flashing in his eyes as his nostrils flared. She didn't pretend to understand, but she knew that part of him felt like he was watching himself at that age.

"Are you...are you sure?" Elliot asked his son, stepping closer to him.

Dickie nodded. "Yeah," he said, trembling. "I didn't know how to...how to tell you...I..." He turned his head and smirked ironically. "Like father, like son, I guess."

Elliot gulped, then put the cup and test down on the mantle of the fireplace. "Girls, go get in the car. Liv, can you..."

"I'll drive them to school," Olivia said, knowing. "I'll just...see you at work." She offered Dickie a small smile, then followed the girls out of the house.

As soon as the door was closed, Elliot's hand swooped over his face. "I'm not...I'm not gonna yell at you."

"No?" Dickie questioned, the vulnerability in his voice surprising him.

Elliot shook his head and moved to the couch, sitting in the warmth Olivia had left behind. "No," he sighed. "My father...my father yelled like Hell when I told him your mother was pregnant. Don't forget, kid, I've been where you are."

Dickie folded his arms and sat next to his father. "So you...are you gonna make me..."

"I'm not gonna make you do anything," Elliot interrupted. "Marrying your mother...it wasn't a mistake, I loved her, it just...we weren't ready and it destroyed what was left of our youth. I'm not gonna put you through that. But I am gonna say this..."

"Here we go," Dickie said, preparing himself.

"Not gonna yell, remember?" Elliot affirmed. "I'm going to tell you that you will be man, a Stabler, and take responsibility for this child. You will not leave Hannah alone, you will not reject this kid, do you understand?"

Dickie nodded. "I wasn't planning to," he said. "I'm just...scared. Dad, I'm so scared."

"Oh, buddy," Elliot huffed. "I know exactly what you feel like right now, and that fear...it never goes away." He looked up and licked his lips. "You just find more and more to be afraid of, and you're in a much better place than I was."

"So, you're not gonna kick me out, then?" Dickie asked. "I've been up all night scared to death that when I told you, you'd...I know what Grandpa did to you and Mom, so I..."

"Oh, Dickie..." Elliot breathed, shaking a bit, and rested his hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm gonna say something to you that I wish my father would have said to me, okay? I mean every word of it."

"Okay," Dickie nodded.

"Liv and I will be here, for whatever you need," Elliot said, tears in his eyes. "I'm not kicking you out, I'm not forcing you to marry her, I'm not making you give up your dreams to make things right, because I trust that you'll decide what's right for yourself. I'm not happy about this, I'm beyond pissed and I'm upset, and I think I'm having a heart-attack, but...I am your father, and I love you. I'm gonna get you through this."

Dickie looked at his father, his bottom lip trembled. He sniffled and tried like Hell not to let it happen but it did. He threw his arms around his father and cried, only breathing again when he felt his father hug him back.

Elliot knocked on Olivia's door and turned the knob at the same time. "Hey," he said, his eyes darting around the room to make sure they were alone.

Olivia looked up from the file in her hands. "Hey," she returned, watching him as he sat down. "How's Dickie?"

He pressed his lips together and shook his head, telling her without words that he didn't wanna talk about it. "It's almost one o'clock," he said, tapping on her desk. "I came in here to give you your..."

"About that," she interrupted. "I was thinking about this...all morning...and I understand if you'd..." She bit her lip. "With this in our laps, now, I won't be mad or upset if you don't want..."

"What?" he broke in, standing. He moved toward her and sat on the edge of her desk. "What?" he repeated.

"I just think...maybe we shouldn't be having a baby right now, if we have to deal with two teenagers having one." She blinked. "I know this is hard for you, and..."

He cupped her chin with one hand. "And I want this with you," he whispered. "Liv, I want a kid of our own, more than anything, and we can do this. I'm not giving up on us so I can be stronger for my son. We can be there for him and take care of ourselves at the same time, I got this. Why does nobody get that? I'm not my father, damn it!"

"Whoa," she said, moving away from him. "No one said you were, El." She was the one holding his face in her hands now. "You are nothing like him," she told him.

"Right," he nodded, taking a sharp breath. "But Dickie is just like me." He blinked and shook his head. Then brushed her off of him and opened her top drawer. He wrapped his hand around a clean syringe and broke the seal. He tapped it and flicked it, then looked at Olivia. His eyes were red with refusal to cry and he cleared his throat. "Bend over."

She let out a hard breath and moved her chair back, and she stood before him. She felt him tugging at the fabric of her pants, and she felt the jab of the needle. She squeezed her eyes shut, but didn't complain. She felt that she didn't have the right. His pain, right now, was much worse than hers.

He wiped the red spot with an alcohol pad, then fixed her pants. He ran a hand up her back, kissed her neck, and whispered, "I love you." He paused. "Captain."

She gave him a small, breathy laugh, kissed his lips, and whispered, "I love you, too, Detective Stabler." She gave him another soft kiss. "Go home," she told him. "You've got too much on your mind right now to be here, you almost broke down twice already today, and Dickie needs you. He'll be home, soon."

He nodded and kissed her again, his heart filling with more love for her. He gave her hand a squeeze and said, "I would never ask you to sacrifice anything for me, you know that, don't you?"

She nodded. "I just didn't want..."

"We," he stepped on her words. "It's what we want now. Any decision we make about anything, we make together, clear?"

She kissed him again and said, "Go, El."

He kept his eyes on her as he walked backward toward the door. He tossed the needle into the bin and finally turned, heading home to face his past. And his future.

She crept into the bedroom, her eyes scanning the bed as she moved. She smirked at his sleeping form, the way the covers fell to the floor leaving his naked body exposed. She kept her eyes on him as she undressed, tossing her clothes into the overflowing hamper.

She thought for a moment about how things will work if neither of them ever does laundry, but she shook it off and slipped into the bed. Her body draped over his, the way the blanket would, and she dropped her lips to his, languidly kissing him awake. She felt his hands moving, heavily and slowly, up her thighs and over her hips. She heard him moan, felt it against her mouth, and for the moment, the drama of the day was forgotten and all she remembered was his promise to her.

He turned his head and blinked his eyes open, letting out a small snort of laughter. "Fuck, I thought I was dreaming," he told her before he grabbed her tightly and rolled her over. With his lips on her neck, he asked, "Where were you?"

She moaned and her eyes fluttered shut as she answered. "Paperwork," she panted, her muscles twitching as his fingers glided over her body.

He dragged his thumb over her clit once before inching two thick fingers into her, readying her for his next move, one he'd been waiting to make for hours.

She dug her nails into the rounded, bulging muscles of his arms, hearing him curse as skin snapped and broke. "El," she breathes, aware that this was different, something in his touch was severe.

He moved his fingers deep and hard, his lips still lingered over her pulse, and his other hand was stroking his girth to rod-like hardness. He shifted over her, slipped his fingers away from her, and thrust once, hitting her flesh with his own. He grunted as he watched her back arch beneath him, grinned at the look of pure ecstasy on her face, and he whispered, "So fucking hot." He bent his head and kissed her chin and her lips, staying still until the pressure in her waned.

She brought her head up then, meeting his eyes, and she bit her lip in anticipation. She stared at him as he thrust again, soft moans were exchanged, and she noticed the lack of space between them. Not even a centimeter of air between his body and hers, every slide of his body was flush against hers.

His eyelids fell, his head dropped, his forehead rested on her chest as he pushed into and pulled out of her in a steady rhythm. He took a deep breath and took a nipple into his mouth, and he felt her hands cradle his head.

She felt him stiffening, her hips began to move with his in a race to the finish line, the sound of slapping skin filled the room.

Groans and prayers left his lips, her name was spoken like a Gregorian chant with every hit, and he lifted his head to look into her eyes.

She dragged two fingertips down the side of his face and her eyes widened , her body tensed, and she kissed him to muffle the loud cry of release as he brought waves of electricity out of her.

He snapped at that moment, suddenly moving harder and faster, drawing out her orgasm and triggering his own. Still moving, he pressed her further into the bed, trying to get deeper, closer, still cumming. It wasn't until he felt her hands on his chest that he stopped, stilled.

Both chests heaved, hurt, as they stared at each other, clearly wondering what had just happened.

Saying nothing, he kissed her.

She held him as his head dropped and he settled against her, and she realized what it was. It was him venting, releasing the stress and tension of the day, because through it all he refused to cry or yell. She kissed the top of his head and let her eyes close.

He smiled, half asleep, still inside of her, forgetting everything but her. At least, until the sun came up and his world both darkened and brightened with it's rise.

A/N: ohhh...snap.