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.

It was times like this Olivia hated her uncanny ability to tell when she was being watched. She rolled tension out of her neck and continued writing out the twins' party invitations, filling in names and checking them off of class rosters. She felt the eyes of the man behind her burning into the back of her neck. It was growing too hard to ignore, so she turned only slightly, enough to see the once-abrasive man out of the corner of her eye and she huffed at him. "What?"

Nathan shook his head with an upturned lip as he sipped his beer. "Just standing here," he said. "How's your mother?"

"Okay," she said, carefully writing a uniquely spelled name on an embossed line. "Better than I expected, she...she's okay. Thanks."

"How many people are you guys inviting?" He looked at the stack of blank invitations and compared it to the written-out ones. "It's a party for two eight-year-olds, how the hell many friends could they possibly have?"

Still not amused or eager for conversation, she hummed. "The kids in their classes, their teachers, our friends and our...um, your family."

"We are family, Liv," he told her, and he took a sip from his bottle of beer. "You know, the, uh...the twins were only about a year old when you came into our lives. They're closer to you than they ever were to Kathy, you know that, right? These kids worship the ground you walk on, and you did actually marry my brother, you're having his baby, the Stablers are officially your family. You can say it."

"You're right, I just..." she coughed once. "Still can't wrap my head around how this all happened, you know?"

He nodded, sipped his beer again, and he turned to leave. But then he took two steps forward, rested a hand on the dining room chair next to hers. "May I?" He asked the question more politely than he would have almost a year ago. He started sliding the chair out, dragging it along the carpet, waiting for her answer.

"Yeah," she breathed raggedly. "It's more your house than it is mine."

"That's exactly what I want to talk to you about." He plopped into the chair, took another sip from his brown bottle, and made an odd smacking noise with his mouth after he swallowed. He smirked, seeing her roll her eyes, and he leaned over, watching her pen move delicately across the cardstock. "You need to stop thinking this is all just going to go away."

"You mean, it's not?" she scoffed, not looking up from her stack of invites. She scrawled another friend's name on an empty line and tried not to show Nate any vulnerability.

"You read those letters, you heard the stories I told you," Nate swung back another swallow of beer. "You know my brother better than anybody. Okay, say he does wake up tomorrow, and he remembers who the hell Kathy is, and he remembers the last fucked up twenty-nine years of his life. Say he's in the kitchen pouring himself a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and it hits him like fucking Bam-Bam, okay?"

Olivia bit back the urge to cry. "I'd rather not, thanks," she gave him, though her teeth were wired shut with emotion. She pressed harder on the pen.

Nathan continued. "Say it happens, but you know what? He's also going to remember the last six years, falling in love with you, sinking faster than the fucking Titanic. He's going to remember that you did everything you had to do to keep him from having a stroke, and he's going to remember that you're married, having his baby, and he won't give a flying monkey's ass about Kathy." He shot a look over his shoulder, hearing some rustling coming from the top of the stairs. He took a breath before turning back to her, tugged on the hem of his Black Sabbath tee shirt, and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Olivia, the man is happier than a pig in shit, because he has what he's always wanted!"

That did it. She dropped the pen, wrung her hands together, and looked at him for the first time, letting him see her red tear-deprived eyes. She refused to cry again. "That's the problem. He didn't…"

"Those letters? Written about a million years before this fucking accident that wasn't an accident," Nathan spat at her, holding up a finger. He shot another finger up. "I found that little poem he was going to make the kids read for you before he got knocked on the head." He put up a third finger. "Why would he have told me every X-Rated fairy tale he had about you, every Saturday night, for the last six fucking years...if he only thinks he's in love with you because he can't remember Kathy?"

Olivia didn't know what to say. She could only blink and bite her lip.

Nathan smiled crookedly at her. "Look, you are allowed to be happy and stop fucking worrying. You know I'm right." He clicked his tongue and jerked his head to the side. "Besides, you know, his fragile little brain might explode if you keep dancing on eggshells around here. It's been almost a year and he still thinks the kids are only blonde because of my mother, so…"

"Why are you doing this?" Olivia finally asked, her composure contained and her rationale intact. "Elliot used to tell me you hated being here, that you drove him crazy, that you were this thick-headed, snot-nosed…"

Nathan held up a hand and chuckled, taking a pause to throw back the last of his beer. "I didn't like being here because I didn't like Kathy." He licked his lips and ran three of his fingers across his forehead. "This is why...why I was so fucking thrilled when you told us he had this problem. Because if he remembered how she treated him, how unhappy they were, how she trapped him in this life he never fucking wanted...I'd still be staying away and I would not have this incredible relationship with him, or the kids." He swallowed hard. "Or you."

Squinting at him, she shook her head, finding his babbling hard to follow. "What are you talking about?"

"I hated what he became, because of Kathy," Nathan whispered, as if the pain and shame of admitting it somehow stung in his mouth. "My little brother was...smart, funny. Fucking talented on the football field, man, he had scouts on his ass, he could've gone pro." He grinned proudly, but it was short-lived. "Yeah, my dad...wasn't the best to him, but I tried to make up for it. He was my best friend, you know?" He looked down at his empty beer bottle. "When, uh, when Kathy told him she was knocked up, uh, he changed, and I don't mean…" he shook his head. "He didn't suddenly grow up or some shit, he changed. He wasn't funny anymore. He wasn't happy anymore. He quit the team, lost scholarships, stopped hanging out with his friends, and two days after graduation he marries her and ships himself off to the Goddamned Marines."

Olivia screwed her pursed lips to the side, confused. "Nate, what you're saying…" she took a breath. "You sure you didn't get hit in the head, too?"

After a small laugh, he said, "Wait," and inhaled sharply. "He came back and they fell into this...miss of a life," he looked around and shook his head again. "It got worse as they got older. She was constantly on his case. He was working too much and she never saw him, then tells him he needed to pull double shifts because they needed the money. He couldn't go out with his pals because he had to watch the kids, but, oh, wait, he had to leave the house for a few hours because she was sick of his bullshit." He blinked away what would have been tears. "After the twins were born, and shit still sucked, he just gave up. He wasn't my brother anymore. Whenever I came around, Kathy made it clear I wasn't welcome and I was shitty to him because he never once defended me to her. He let her do and say whatever the hell she wanted, and he was just stuck in this complacent...existence."

"No," Olivia breathed skeptically. "Don't try to make this…"

"You never saw that," he continued, not letting her object, "You never saw his fucking lame attiude, you never saw the constant throat-grappling bullshit she threw at him that he didn't deserve, and you never had to deal with the loathing contentment he had for his life...because it all changed...six years ago."

Her eyes widened slightly and her lip found its way back into her mouth, between her nipping teeth.

"Yeah," Nathan chuckled. "Uh, see, six years ago, I saw my brother come home from work smiling for the first time in ages. I heard him laugh, I listened to him tell me this crazy story about his new partner, and he was so excited about her." He scraped his nails down the side of his face as he smiled more broadly. "Little by little, he found his sense of humor again, he was more passionate about his job, he spent more time with the kids, he started dressing better and shaving more often and taking care of himself. He started having and telling me about these vulgar fucking fantasies, which put a little bit of a swagger in his step. He knew he was falling for you, and the way you looked at him, the way you flirted right back, wanted him right back...made him feel like a man again, because he grew one hell of a libido. It was something Kathy didn't get to enjoy, so don't look at me like that, but it gave him the balls to finally fight back, defend himself to her, defend the kids, defend...me." He leaned closer to her. "He fell in love with his life again, because he fell in love with you, and I thank God every fucking day that he can't remember anything that came before you."

Her tears were rolling slowly but freely now, and she rubbed her lips together for a moment before giving her brother-in-law a soft hug. "Thank you," she expelled, and she pushed her chair out, eager to go tell Elliot how much she loved him, but Nathan clung tightly to her hand. She looked down at him, questions in her eyes.

"No, Liv," he said with a short sniffle. "Thank you. You gave me my brother back. And you...you treat me like a brother, you know? Kathy never did, she always just insulted me and told me I was a useless freeloader, but you…" he sniffled again. "You treat me like a human being, like family."

"You are," Olivia told him, grinning, and she patted his hand in hers for a moment. "You...are...my brother. Aren't you?" She gave a short shrug, then pulled her hand out of his and ran up the stairs. She turned the corner, took a breath, and slowly turned the knob to what had been her bedroom for nearly eleven months. "El?"

"Hey, beautiful," he smiled warmly at her, running a towel through his hair. "You done with the invitations? I was just heading down to help."

She licked her lips pruriently, seeing him standing in the middle of the room, naked, still slightly wet from the shower. She shook her head and closed the door, then walked toward him slowly. "They can wait," she said, and without any warning or notion, she wrapped the fingers of her right hand around his cock. She grinned when he gasped and cursed, and leaned into him. "What were you thinking about in that shower?" she asked, feeling that he'd already gotten himself halfway to lead pipe before she touched him.

"You," he moaned, letting the towel fall from his hands. He curled his rough palms around the sides of her head and ran his thumbs along her cheekbones, staring into her eyes. "You are always on my mind, so I am always...half-cocked, so to speak," he teased. He moaned again and grazed his lips over hers. "Fuck, baby," he seethed, and he felt himself stiffening even more in her hand as she stroked him.

She wound her other hand around his back and slid it down to cup his ass, and she kissed him fully. Moaning, she felt him move, his hips thrusting in an attempt to fuck her open fist. She pressed into him, coaxing him toward the bed as a garbled "I love you" fell against his lips.

"Mmm," he hummed, "Love you," he gurgled back to her, trying to make sure they landed on the mattress. "Shit," he spat. "Oh, fuck, baby," he hissed, working himself harder and faster as she did the same with her stroking. "Wait, wait, baby, I'm going to…"

"That's the idea," she laughed throatily, but she was stunned when he pulled his hand out of her hair and tugged her hand away from his dick. "El, what are you…"

He laughed as her yelp hit his ears, as he grabbed her fast and flipped her over, and he yanked her blue tee-shirt up and off of her in one fell swoop. He pushed her flannel pants over her hips with his hands, worked them down further with his thighs and knees, and peeled them completely off of her with his toes. "Inside you," he graveled out, and he hooked his heavy hands behind her knees and pushed her legs apart and up. He curled over her once he nestled himself between her thighs, and he kissed her once before he told her, "I need to be inside you."

She threw her head back as soon as he pushed into her, her nails found their way to his shoulder blades where they spaded into his skin. "Oh, Mother of God," she whined, her back crackling and popping as it arched.

He found a steady rhythm, not too fast or too slow, deep and powerful thrusts that made their skin kiss in a meteoric beat. "Baby, God," he huffed, his breath shortening as his lungs and balls tightened at the same time. "Oh, fuck, Liv."

"Oh," she moaned, long and slow, as if the one small sound had become a paragraph of prayer. "Elliot," she whispered, her head finally lifting to find his eyes. "I love you. I love you so much."

He rounded his body even more, his hips and ass and thighs working powerfully to piston in and out like a steam engine, while his head buried itself in her neck. He kissed her thin skin, licked at her pulse, and whispered, "I love you...more than anything, baby," and he bit down into the curve of her neck.

"Holy shit," she cried, her body seizing, constricting around him like a Boa, forcing him to work harder to thrust until he absolutely couldn't move anymore.

He grunted and made almost animalian noises as he stilled, feeling his cock surrounded by her pulsating, clenching, walls. "Fuck," he panted twice more before succumbing to her, and he let out one more grunt and gave a final thrust, and then a guttural cry of her name as he came. He knew he'd collapse, his muscles losing grip, so he turned them over again as he shot and twitched, and he kissed her; a thousand little pecks on every reachable part of her face and neck, until he felt both of their bodies stop shuddering. "What…" he couldn't breathe deeply enough to speak. He waited until he calmed, his hands coddling through her hair, his lips still kissing wherever they could. "What brought that on? No complaints, I mean...fuck, we were going to do this anyway but...not like this, baby. Fuck, wow."

She laughed and dropped a listless kiss to his beating chest. "I love you," she whispered. "I've always loved you, the day we met I knew, and I…" she wouldn't break again, she controlled her emotions and let herself wallow in pure happiness. "I love you. I came up here...intending to just hold you for a while, but I saw you standing there and…" she laughed again. "I never could resist temptation, where you're concerned."

"Hence Maureen," he joked, and he kissed the top of her head. He shoved his right hand under his head and let his left play in her hair. "I remember trying...so fucking hard. I was making a complete ass out of myself, wasn't I?" he chuckled. "I had precisely zero game, you had to actually ask me if I was trying to get you to have sex with me."

Her eyes narrowed and she saw the moment like a movie in her mind, and she gasped softly. She remembered a night at a bar, her first week on the job. He'd had far too much, way too fast, and he'd started reciting Shakespeare to her. He'd been using cheesy pick-up lines, even being so bold as to tell her the nickname for his dick. He'd asked if she'd like to meet him, and she'd slapped a fifty dollar bill on the bar before laughing and asked him if he was seriously trying to pick her up. "When you said yes," she said, recalling, "I told you…"

"If I still wanted to do it in the morning, we would," he finished, and he laughed again. "I told you I would definitely still want to in the morning…"

"Every morning, every afternoon, every night for the rest of my life," she spoke, the inebriated memory falling off of her tongue. He must've remembered it leading to their first time, when in reality it had led to her laughing it off, calling him "Detective McDrunk," hailing him a cab, and sending him home. Neither of them had ever mentioned it again, and she assumed he'd forgotten. "El, I…"

"I meant it, then, and I mean it now," he intruded on her thoughts. "Baby, just you. Anytime, anywhere, you tell me you want me and you'll have me because I will always want you," he told her. He found her chin with his left hand and lifted, kissed her lips softly, and said, "I love you."

She looked down into his ocean eyes, getting lost in them the way she always had, and she kissed him again. "I love you." She wrapped herself around him and closed her eyes, and for the first time in almost a year, she wasn't afraid of him waking up and regretting her in the morning. She knew, now, that this was her life, and his, and wasn't just a temporary bout of amnesiatic psychosis.

The phone call that would wake them up in the morning, though, would reassure her and give her pure certainty.

Peace and Love

Jo