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

"No one got hurt," Porter spits as he rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. He briefly wonders why Elliot is alone in the room with him, for a split second he thinks it's like those old film noir flicks where everyone turns a blind eye and lets the disgruntled cop kill the bad guy. He shakes it off and brushes non-existent dust off of his knee. "I roughed up your wife a little, to piss you off and get your partner's attention, you're blowing this way out of…"

Elliot's hands slam down onto the long silver table so hard the entire thing shakes, the metal clangs and the legs wobble, the plastic edge cracks. "My ex-wife," he snaps, emphasizing the 'ex,' and he points a finger at Porter, baring his teeth like an angry wolf. "You will never lay a fucking finger on my wife you son of a bitch!"

Porter's eyes widen, his jaw drops as he turns and sends a horrified look toward the two-way glass on the wall, where he knows Olivia is standing. "You...you two...you actually…" he gulps and looks back at Elliot with genuine hatred in his eyes. "You married her?"

Elliot smirks and lets out a single victorious grunt. "We knew you'd do this, ya know. My...partner and I figured this was a logical next step in your fucked up chess game," he says, and he slaps down a photo of Kathy and a small USB drive. "We figured it out and because we did, Kathy's been wired and heavily guarded for the last two days. Everything you said, and did, is on tape." He pounds his fists on the table again, a screw clings its way down to the floor and rolls toward the barred window. He glares at Porter, his nostrils flare, and he leans over to look the man in the eyes as he sneers, "Checkmate, asshole."

Porter blinks once. "You...how did you…" he clears his throat and he stiffens slightly. He runs his sweating palms over the sleeves of his dingy-looking white shirt. "How the hell could you have possibly known what my intentions were, and how the hell didn't I know the two of you actually made the mistake of going to see that judge?"

Elliot grins, but it's not a happy smile at all. He cracks his knuckles and breathes out through his nose like a raging bull. "We got new phones. Ya know, ones that aren't bugged, and as for how we knew? You're not that slick. You're actually pretty fucking predictable, and we...me and Liv, that is, we figured out how you operate. Spent enough time watching you and your half-assed procedural skills crash and burn upstate. Going after my ex was a logical next step for you, you just didn't count on the fact that trying to get me away from Liv…" he pauses to grin a bit more smugly, cross his arms, and shrug. "Wouldn't have worked, no matter what you did."

"Just wait," Porter chuckles. "She'll leave your ass when she realizes you're not what she needs."

Elliot scoffs, not even acknowledging Porter's drivel let alone justifying it with a response; he knows better, and he fucking refuses to make this as personal as Porter wants it to be. It's an interrogation, with two feds, Olivia, and Cragen watching him like angry vultures from the other side of the glass. "Attempted rape, attempted kidnapping, menacing, assault, conspiracy...and those are only the charges we have the proof to validate," he says calmly, and he chuckles again, bending one arm at the elbow and scratching his temple with one finger. "Now, I could count stalking, but New York doesn't have clear cut laws for that, technically not a crime we can pin on you, but harassment, unlawful surveillance, and…"

"Give me a break," Porter barks, but his voice cracks, his cool demeanor finally falling away to reveal the nerves and perhaps fear. "I was pursuing a relationship with a woman, trying to get her to notice how much effort I was putting into things, but…" he scoffs and shakes his head, gestures to the interrogation room. "No bitch is worth this." He watches, he waits. He's sure he's going to make Elliot do the one thing that would get him off scott free, and he braces himself for the left hook he assumes is coming. When it doesn't, he tilts his head. "No harm, no foul," he spits out and he tugs on his yellowing shirt cuffs. He moves to stand, but Elliot shoves him back down into the chair.

"You're not going anywhere," Elliot states almost too gravelly to be human. "You were fired, remember? You can't hide behind your badge this time. You're going down, you son of a bitch, but if you ever get out of your cage," his grumbling words rattle in his throat and filter through the boxed in room like the bass of an old stereo. He leans down, twists the collar of Porter's shirt just tight enough to make him whimper. "Stay away from my wife, away from my family, or I swear to God, I will kill you."

Porter gags a bit when he feels his collar tighten more, and he hooks his hands around Elliot's wrists just as the door swings open. He shoots his head toward the noise, a pleading look on his face, but it turns to horror as he sees the FBI's answer to IAB staring back at him. "You...you can't charge me, Paul,...I didn't do anything wrong, here!"

"We listened to the tape," one of the suited men speaks, and he nods at Elliot, telling him that his job is done and they'll take it from here.

Elliot licks his lips once as he drops Porter back down to the chair, nods back at the fed, and leaves the room, instantly grabbing Olivia's hand. With a grunt, he drags her out of the observation pit without saying word one to Cragen. He knows he's pulling too roughly, squeezing too tightly, walking too quickly, but he maneuvers through the sqaudroom, out the doors, into the hall, and he punches the stairwell door with his free hand. He makes it down three steps before he stops and turns, yanking her into him and crashing his lips into hers as though he's never going to kiss her again.

She protests at first, pushing him back, but his hold on her is overpowering and her efforts are fruitless. She feels him tense up as she fights, he pulls her harder against him and growls slightly, and she gives in, letting his kiss consume her. She feels his hands loosen and slip downward and she moans when his palms cup her ass and squeeze.

His hips thrust forward, his hard cock straining against his suit pants in a vain attempt to feel more of her despite the layers of fabric between them. He growls again, mumbles her name, and it's clear now that he is acting solely out of desperation. The repressed fear of what could have happened if Porter had been more determined, more vicious, and the paralyzing fury that had to go unspent in the interrogation room are battling for control, yet both lose out to his severe need for her. His love for only her.

She feels his right hand moving toward the front of her black pants and she gasps before she finds the strength to push him away. "Calm down," she warns, breathless and panting, shaking her head. "Work. We're at work." She inhales, her lungs burn, her lips sting, her teeth ache, she still tastes him on her tongue. "What are you…"

He shakes his head and kisses her again, softer but just as desperate. "I need...fuck, I need something I can't fucking have right now." He turns and balls his left hand into a fist, and he readies a punch as his heart hammers against his rib cage. He stops just short of the follow through, not out of fear of breaking his knuckles, but because he knows that hitting the wall might scratch his ring. He smiles as he looks at the platinum band, he runs the pad of his right index finger over its shiny surface and suddenly he's calm. "I wouldn't have let him hurt you."

"What?" she asks, hoarse, and she narrows her eyes. She puts her hands on her hips and she's still panting, still reeling from his frenzied attack, she tilts her head and says, "Who?"

"That bastard," he barely breathes, turning to face her. He looks into her eyes and offers a glum shrug. "Porter." He moves closer to her and takes her hands. "We had a feeling he'd go after Kathy, or the kids, but if he skipped them and came for you…" he moves closer, lowers his voice. "I would have fucking killed him before he so much as looked at you."

"I don't doubt that," she says lightly, trying to smile. This side of him is still new and somehow all too familiar. His aggression is firmly in place but his possessiveness and devotion are more evident than ever and it scares her. "He can't talk his way out of this, you…" she runs a hand over his shoulder, down his arm. "I'm proud of you. You stayed calm, you didn't...I mean, I thought if any interrogation was gonna get violent, it would be this one."

"Trust me, it took everything I had not to rip his fucking head off." He shakes his head and presses his lips together for a moment. "Not with Cragen watching," he tells her honestly. "Not...not in front of you, on our wedding day," he adds with a wink and a smile, and then he rolls his eyes. "Not in front of two federal fuckbags who would have used any small misstep as a reason to drop the charges."

"I'm sure they would have understood," she jokes, tugging on his tie coyly.

He chuckles and he runs a few fingers along the crinkles in his forehead as he squints. "I just...one thing I couldn't help wondering…" he drops his arms and he pulls her down with him as he sits on one of the stone steps. "If we weren't together...if we were still fucking ignoring our feelings like a couple of assholes…" he hears her snort and laughs with her before he says, "Would you have, uh...would you have actually gone out with that douchebag?"

She quirks an eyebrow and it should be all the answer he needs, but the stone face she gets in return tells her he needs to hear it. He needs the reassurance. "I would rather chew off my own arm than spend any time with Dean Porter. Well, time that doesn't involve you and me pretending to be…" she pauses, looks down at their clasped together hands, and she smiles. "Well, I guess...it's not pretend anymore."

"No," he whispers, and he moves slowly, and as his lips touch hers, he says, "It never was. Ever." He moves the final millimeter and kisses her softly, but manages to pull away from her a respectable distance as the door behind them creaks open.

Cragen looks down at the pair, sighing as their heads turn toward him. "You okay?" he asks, but it's more of a way to gauge whether or not they've been necking in the stairwell or not.

Olivia glances at Elliot, because she isn't sure of the answer.

Elliot nods, closes his eyes. "Yeah, I'm just...dealing with a lot." He swallows hard, runs his hands over his head, and lets out a low groan. "We catch something?"

"Yeah," Cragen nods, holding the door open wider, expecting them to rise and walk back to work as though nothing is wrong at all. "And your mother called."

They both look at him wearing matching expressions of confusion and disbelief. They eye each other suspiciously, then turn back to Cragen asking a silent question.

Cragen blinks rapidly and mutters a few monosyllabic noises. "You, Benson, your mother. She called," he says flatly. "I took a message, but she wanted me to tell you she's home, uh, you can call her back on your way to Mount…" he stops, suddenly noticing something about his detectives. He tugs on his waistband and belt, lifting his drooping tan pants back up where they belong, lets out a stiff breath, and he says, "I...you…" he points to them as they take the final step and move out into the hallway. "Something you want to tell me?"

"Nope," Elliot says, and he offers the man a sickeningly sweet smile as he slaps his captain on the shoulder. "You heard my entire conversation with Porter, so I'm sure you don't need us to tell you anything. Mount what now?"

Cragen coughs once, surprised, and says, "Vic at Mount Saint Dominic's, you'll be meeting her parents there as well, be gentle, huh?"

Elliot narrows his eyes. "When am I not?" He chuckles as Cragen shoots him a knowing glance and walks down the hallway. He slaps Olivia's ass lightly, goading her in the direction of the bullpen. "You wanna drive?"

Her eyes widen and she wonders if marriage has made him more insane than he was before, and she furrows her brow. "You never let me drive."

"Think of it as a wedding present," he laughs, and he tosses her the keys to the Ford as he grabs their jackets. "Oh, and, uh...don't forget to call your mother." He whistles to himself as he helps her put her coat on, slips his arms into his own, and he drops his eyes to her ass as they leave. He knows exactly why her mother called, and he loves that it's his duty, his honor, and his right, now, as her husband, to surprise her whenever possible.

Now that Porter and Cragen aren't making them pawns in their sick twisted battle, he's decided it's time to play a few friendly wolf his own.

With his wife.

A/N: What does Serena want? What does Elliot have up his sleeve?