A/N:As long as I got you by my side, I know what I wanna do in this life (Soldier - James TW)

DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler

"Unavailable," Dean Porter repeats, standing in the office in a stiffly starched black suit. His arms are folded, his head is tilted downward, and he's staring at the man before him with skeptical and almost aggravated eyes. "What do you mean, they're unavailable?"

Captain Cragen plops his hands down onto his incredibly cluttered desk and sighs impatiently. "I mean," he takes a deep breath and just to be a bit of a prick he looks down, moves a stapler, restacks some papers, and then looks back up at Porter and gives a simper. He says, very slowly, "They are not available."

"You do realize this is a federal request," Porter says, and he takes a step closer to the desk, an arrogance in his tone and demeanor.

Cragen tilts his head. "And you do realize this is one of the only two Special Victims Unit on the island, and you're asking to take my best team out of commission for the second time in less than a year," he spits out, his face growing redder with every word. "You can take any of the other guys, or ask the Three-Nine, or take 'em outta Queens, because you can not have Benson and Stabler, not again." He smirks and says, "It's a matter of jurisdiction, ya know. You don't outrank them, and you can't give them orders."

Porter scoffs. "Oh, old man, you are absolutely…"

"Davis," Cragen interrupts, calling to the uniformed officer who'd escorted Porter into the squad room, "Show Agent Porter out. Make sure the door doesn't hit him on the way."

"Yes, Sir," Davis says with a nod, and his crisp blue uniform crinkles as he takes Porter by the arm.

Porter spouts some unintelligible nonsense as he's ushered out of Cragen's office and through the bullpen, and once he's gone, Cragen picks up the phone. He dials and waits, flipping through the papers on his desk. "Yeah, he's on his way out. You sure you wanna do this?" He sighs. "I know it's the only way, but are you...you keep them out of it, understand?" He grunts his thanks and hangs up, and then turns his attention to the office window. "God, I hope this works."

Meanwhile, across town, Olivia and Elliot are oblivious to the conflict between Cragen and Porter as they wait on the sidelines of a crime scene. Elliot's standing behind Olivia, sipping his German chocolate latte, eyeing Doctor Barton cautiously. "She hasn't come on to me, yet," he whispers to his partner.

Olivia chuckles as she swallows her mouthful of honey-nut espresso. "She hasn't even seen you, because you've been hiding since we got here." She turns over her shoulder and smirks at him, shakes her head, and says, "How's your back?"

He groans and twists his hips a bit, causing slight cracks and pops in his back, and he says, "God, we are getting a bed as soon as fucking possible." He hears her laugh again, and he scoffs. "Yeah, it's funny to you because you used me as a mattress."

She darkens her eyes and tilts her head just a bit. "You weren't complaining."

He grins, then, and lowers his brows. "You know how much I love having you on top of me," he winks once, sips his coffee, and says, "I love...how you feel, how I can feel your heart beat, the look on your face when you're dreaming...and I know you're dreaming about me. Us."

"Okay." She holds up a hand and takes a deep breath. "We can't...we're at work, and what you're saying right now…"

"Just being honest," he quips, and he notices that Barton is trying to get their attention. He nudges her, and his phone rings as they move toward the medical examiner. He answers it quickly, hoping it's going to give him a reason to ignore the too-forward redhead. "Stabler," he spouts into the phone.

He listens as Olivia talks to Barton. When the conversations overlap, he plugs his left ear, and he feels the metal of his ring against his skin. It makes him smile and something the person calling him says plants an idea in his head. "Okay," he says, nodding. "Thanks." He hangs up and slaps Olivia in the shoulder. "What's up?" He points to the limp and broken body on the ground.

"Dump," Olivia tells him. "She's been completely exsanguinated." She sips the last of her latte and shakes her head. "Um, she…"

"Was raped," Barton says, finally acknowledging Elliot. "Bruising suggests both pre and post mortem assault. There's no way to tell exactly what happened…"

"Until you get her into your lab," Elliot says flatly. "We know." He shoves his phone in his pocket, sips his latte, and asks, "What can you tell us that doesn't require us waiting for hours or any of your fancy equipment?"

Barton squints at him, feeling a bit shunned and insulted, and she holds her clipboard to her chest. "She's got several broken bones, a hand-print bruise across her face...like someone was holding her mouth and nose shut. No ID, but she looks to be between twenty and thirty, and it wasn't a robbery. She's wearing a diamond ring and necklace that is worth more than what I make a year."

"So she comes from money," Elliot surmises.

Olivia hums. "Or someone else who does have her some pretty nice gifts." She grimaces. "Before he killed her."

"I'm gonna go find out what the crime scene guys got for us," Elliot says, and he moves fast before Barton can make a crack about her gifts or something, and he pulls on his tie as he walks.

Barton watches after him and stares in his direction. "So he's still married?"

"Um, yeah," Olivia says. "Can we focus here?" She shakes her head and rolls her shoulders, and then snaps her fingers. "Barton! Eyes off his ass!"

Barton smirks and licks her lips. "Harder than you think," she says, and she turns around. "Your his partner. You're pretty close to him. Do you know if he, uh, if he's the kind of guy…"

"He's already told you, he is...for some reason...incredibly devoted to his...um, wife," Olivia says, and the words feel weird on her tongue, it feels odd that she's talking about herself. "He's not gonna cheat on her. Besides, his wife would absolutely kick your ass." She pouts and her brows angle. "And his."

Barton relents, sighs, and says, "Shame," and then she hands Olivia the top sheet off of her chart. "Here's my prelim, I'll call you as soon as possible with whatever I find." She nods and walks towards her van, pointing and directing others to wrap and move the body.

Elliot strides up next to Olivia, his coffee cup now in a trash bin behind them. "Photos, her personal effects, and…"

"She asked me if you ever thought about cheating on your wife," she cuts him off, her left eye popping slightly.

"Uh, which wife?" He chuckles and says, "I thought about cheating on Kathy so often, I almost confessed to actually doing it. You? Never." He tilts his head. "I don't think about anyone except you, and trust me...I think about you...all the damn time." He gives her a wink and says, "You have nothing to worry about."

"El," she sighs and shakes her head. "As much as it feels like it, as much as we both say it and believe it…" she bites her lip and shakes her head. "We're not really married. Not...legally. You never even…" she stops, and she knows that he's glaring at her in that way that means he can't believe what is coming out of her mouth. "You were saying something about…"

"Marry me, then," he spits out, and he fully fucking knows how stupid it sounds, that it came out like a command at a crime scene at seven in the morning.

She whips her head to him. "What?" She blinks once, the coffee in her hand is now on the pavement, spreading a honey nut layer over the gravel.

He looks around, then he drops his box of sealed evidence bags and takes her hand. He runs his thumb over her rings before slipping them off of her finger. He pockets the wedding band and holds the diamond engagement ring out to her. "Let's fucking make it official, if that's what it takes to get you to fucking believe that this is real!" He pushes his hand in her direction. "Marry me," he repeats, his voice softer, his eyes less severe.

"Are you…" she blinks. "You're serious."

He slips the ring back onto her finger and nods, his tongue pressed between a tight-lipped shit-eating grin. "Dead serious," he tilts his head and raises and lowers his eyebrows fast. He asks this time, slowly, deliberately looking into her eyes. "Will...you...marry…

me?"

She inhales and looks down at her hand in his, the ring sparkling even though there's no sunlight peeking through they grey clouds overhead. "El," she exhales, "Yes." And she's surprised by her answer, as though she didn't realize what she was saying. She runs her tongue over her teeth and gums and swallows hard as she nods. "Yes." It was a conscious decision this time.

He smiles at her, and he squeezes her hand. "Thank God," he says, and he picks up the box and pulls her toward their Ford. "Oh, uh...that phone call before, um…" he unlocks the car and opens the door for her. "Porter tried to pull us into some bunko case. Cragen knew it was some kind of trap, kicked him out of the office. He has a couple of guys following him and, uh, he told me…"

She notices the break in his voice, the sudden stop. "What? What did he do?"

He scrapes his teeth over his lower lip. "He went to your apartment first. Then my old house. He saw the for sale sign and kind of flipped out, then drove away again. He's gone back and forth from one to the other, twice already. He's, uh, waiting for one of us to go home." He takes a breath. "We were right."

"Shit," Olivia scoffs, folding her arms. "What's the next play?"

Elliot looks over his shoulder, then to both sides, then kissed her quickly. "We wait until calls, catch him in the lie." He drums his fingers along the door and then lightly shoves her down into her seat. He closes the door and runs around to the driver's side. Once he's settled in the car and turns the key, he looks at her. "But, uh, first we stop at the courthouse. Find a judge who owes us a favor." He leans over and kisses her, and when he pulls back he sees the confused look on her face. "You...you just said you'd marry me."

Shock shot into her eyes and her mouth feel open. "You...shit, you meant now?" She slaps one hand over her suddenly racing heart.

He chuckles and pulls away from the curb. "Right, the fuck, now." He turns the wheel sharply and steps on the gas. "No more excuses, no more reasons to think this is all just gonna slip away." He changes lanes and says, "And when the time is right, when we're sure Cragen isn't gonna have an aneurism and Porter's in a cage or a box...we plan the party." His face twists into a smile. "The right way. The dress you want, the cake we want, the right place, the right time, for the right reasons…

with the right person." He reaches out and brushes a hand through her hair. "I love you. I love you so much."

She smiles. She knows she wants the same things and she knows there's no doubts anymore. "I love you, too." She runs her fingers over his hand and says, "You know this is it for you, don't you? I'm not Kathy, I won't…"

"Baby, I could say the same thing to you," he laughs. "No more dates with lawyers or...fucking...anyone else." His jaw tightens and he grips the wheel harder. "Shit, even hypothetical jealousy...this is how in love with you I am."

She laughs and says, "I'll tell you all about the many ways I've plotted…" she was interrupted by her ringing phone. She shoots Elliot a look and slowly reaches into her pocket for her phone. She answers it, staring at Elliot as she says, "Benson."

He keeps his eyes on the road, eager to get to where he's going before she can change her mind because he's fucking not changing his, but he's listening to her conversation.

"Where?" she asks the person on the line. "Okay, maybe half an hour? And you cleared this with Cragen?" She slaps her hand on the dashboard, trying to get Elliot's attention, and she says, "See you then." She hangs up and says, "We got him."

Elliot pulls over, parking on a slant in front of the courthouse steps, and he reaches over Olivia. He opens the glove compartment and pulls his police window marker out of it. He slaps it onto the dashboard and puts his hand on the door handle. He opens it, darts his eyes to the steps of the courthouse, and he smirks. "He can wait."

A/N: Are they really getting married? And what is Porter playing at?