A/N: Twitter made me write this.

Olivia feels the steam literally swirling off of her skin as she stands there, elbows deep in dirty dish suds. Her blazer and work shirt had both been stripped off from the moment she'd walked into the empty apartment. The abandoned drinks and water bottles littered on the kitchen table and counter, a plate with a half-eaten hot pocket, and a full trash bag were the first things she tackled upon entering the apartment, and now, she finds herself scrubbing God knows what off of a baking pan.

She hears him when he enters the apartment and listens to him tell who she assumes is Maureen that they're ready for Khloe before he ends the call and appears in her peripheral view.

"Hey," Elliot says cautiously, lingering at the entrance of the kitchen. She doesn't need to say a word to him, years by her side have made him fluent in her body language. "You're angry."

Don't yell, she tells herself. Don't curse. "I'm not," she lies.

Don't yell. Don't—

"You're talking to yourself in your head again," she hears from behind her. "Why are you in here? Thought you said you were tired."

Her eyes drag away from her current task of rinsing out her wine glass from two nights ago and they glare at him. "There's a sink full of dishes."

"I would've washed them by the time dinner got here."

"Really?" Her eyebrow lifts before she motions around herself. "This place was a mess when I got here. Where is Eli?"

"Friends house."

"Elliot, you let him walk out of here with dishes in the sink like this? I just put a load of laundry in. The basket was overflowing."

"He's a teenager."

"Elliot," she sighs before she turns her back to him again. She picks up a plate and she begins washing it and her mantra restarts.

Don't yell, don't curse.

"I washed a full load of your laundry at my house this morning. I picked up your dry cleaning," she points to the plastic-covered suits slung across the kitchen table. "I picked up groceries for your house and mine. Elliot, what the hell have you done all day besides work?"

"I dropped Noah and Eli off to school this morning. Made their lunches—"

"You didn't make a goddamn thing. You gave them money."

A smile cracks on his face. "Same thing."

"It's not. It's not the same thing. I work more than you do and I—"

"You sit at a desk," he jokes and her body immediately stills.

The plate in her hand drops into the sink and soapy water splashes onto her. "I'm done. I'm going home, Elliot." The faucet is forcefully shut off and she angrily rips a paper towel off of the roll and she begins drying her hands. "You're not hearing me and I've had a day from hell."

"You said you weren't angry."

"I lied!" She tosses the wet paper towel in his direction and he quickly catches it, laughter tumbling out of his mouth.

"Liv."

Between her frustration with him and her ten-hour day, she doesn't have the energy to go back and forth with him. She ignores him, turning her body sideways as she slips past him, careful to not touch him. She lifts her eyes and they meet his for one cold moment before she's going for her blazer.

He pretends to shiver. "Liv."

"Shove it, El," she grumbles, slinging the strap of her purse across her body. She's halfway to the door before she hears him.

"Let's buy a house."

She whips around to look at him. "You think I want to clean a whole house every day? A place that'll be bigger than both of our apartments? Between you, Eli and Noah I'm a goddamn maid and a chef—"

"A chef is stretching—"

"Elliot!" she warns, her voice dropping. "Do not play with me."

He laughs. "I'll talk to the boys. We'll do better."

"El—"

"It's a pain in the ass driving back and forth," Elliot says. And suddenly he's straight-faced and the idiocy from moments ago has seemingly dissipated into thin air. "I hate saying goodbye to you. We miss you and Noah when you're not here. You just said it. We basically live together as it—"

"Elliot... we... what? You're serious, aren't you?"

"What's the problem here? Is that not what you want? I've been home for almost two years."

"We've only been dating for nine months," she reminds him.

"And?" Elliot asks. "We didn't just meet, Liv. This isn't a new thing. We're older. Let's get out of Manhattan. Settle down."

"I am not moving to Queens," she says and by her tone, he knows that she means it.

"It doesn't matter. Wherever is fine. Don't you want Noah to have a yard? Don't you want to live with me?"

Her face softens and the keys in her hand drop and dangle off her pointer finger. Her bag is unhooked from her body and she places both items on the table. "I'd love to live with you."

"Then what is the problem?" He chances his safety, given that she'd just been livid enough to walk out on him, and he reaches his hands out to grasp her shoulders. "Let's get a mansion in Westchester."

"On whose dime? Not NYPD."

"Are you my accountant?" he asks grinning. "Three bedrooms, right? I think we can manage that. You're a captain—"

"Who sits behind a desk all day."

His smile never wavers and she knows he'd said it to piss her off, but she still wants to smack him around and give him a lesson on diplomacy. Maybe he deserves an elbow to his gut for his tactlessness and the constant mess she's always cleaning. "Sorry I said that."

She playfully jabs at him with the back of her hand. "You will be."

"Can I kiss you now? Hi," Elliot says, pulling her into his arms, finally bending down to kiss her lips. "Sorry I let Eli leave without doing his chores. I ran to the store to get wine when you told me you were on your way."

"You guys are slobs," she claims before she nuzzles his jaw. She places a kiss over the stubble there before she pulls back to meet his gaze. "And Noah has become an even bigger slob, too."

"Sweetheart, I said we'll do better," he says and by the tone of his voice, she knows that the argument is over for now. He is conceding and promising changed behavior, and how can you fight with that?

He doesn't like to argue and they rarely ever do. Usually, she's yelling and he's smiling and it all dissolves with her underneath him or bent over some piece of furniture. They still fondly bicker most days, but for the most part, they are happy.

It's his choice, he had told her one day. I choose to be happy with you because nothing is worth losing you. He'd then went on to list a few of her bad habits, leaving hair clips and ties all over their homes, losing files in the sheets, promising to cook and ordering takeout instead to name a few of the minor ones. She had kissed him to shut him up, but he'd been telling her that nothing would tear them apart. Not her annoying little habits around the house, nor the bigger issues that still lingered beneath the surface. The overworking herself, her inclination to step into unnecessarily dangerous situations, not spending enough time with him and their children, these are the things that come with being in love with Captain Benson. And he's accepted it all.

I just won't lose you again, Liv. He'd wasted valuable time with Kathy and that is one lesson he has definitely learned from. There'll never be another moment he'll allow Olivia Benson to be uncertain of him and the love he has for her and her son.

She has never been in a relationship with so much surety and it hadn't come easy. He'd worked hard to drill it into her that he'd never leave her again. He has provided another layer of stability for both her and Noah, something she has longed for.

"Are you going to clean every single—" His lips are on hers, ending her sentence with his tongue sliding into her mouth. His hands slip over her ass, pulling her against the erection already forming between his legs. "Stop," she says, pulling away from him. "Isn't Maureen on her way with Khlo?"

"She doesn't have a key."

"The last time we had sex before one of your children came over they knew."

"He didn't know a thing."

She untangles herself from him and smiles at her shade of lipstick clashing with his undertone. "Wipe my lipstick off of your face," she instructs, stepping out of his arms. "You answered the door and my bra was still on the floor. He noticed. I'm getting in the shower. Alone. Please finish cleaning this place."

—

Olivia runs her fingers through blond curls, gently scratching at Khloe's scalp as the baby sighs into her neck. The one-year-old sleeping on her chest, with long, slim limbs curled around her body, might be her favorite Stabler. "She loves you," Elliot says, fitting his hands around her bare feet. He squeezes them for a moment before he focuses on one, digging his thumb into the arch of her left foot.

"And I love her," Olivia says. She drops her head down and she smells Khloe's hair and she sighs contentedly. "So are Maureen and Jack alright? Kathleen mentioned that they've been weird." Elliot turns to look at her and when she notices his silence she turns to look at him as well. "What?"

"Kathleen thinks her boyfriend will propose soon."

"So? That's a good thing, right?"

"Kathleen told Maureen and Lizzie that she's thinking about adopting because she's afraid... about our genes."

"I've had similar fears," Olivia says with a shrug. "Doesn't matter if she adopts or has a child biologically, she will love him or her all the same."

"I don't think she's had that conversation with him and it's a big deal. I think she's projecting on Maur." Elliot leans back into the couch. "And it doesn't help that Maureen is pregnant again. She told me last week."

"She told me it was a secret," Olivia grins. "You're going to have like fifty grandchildren. I can definitely see that happening."

"I'd like a grandson. I asked Dickie to settle down but he's... he won't. Liz says she doesn't even want children but I think that's a lie. She loves kids and she's a romantic. I can see her getting married and having a bunch of kids any day now— why are you looking at me like that?"

"You always thought you were a bad father and I don't even think you see it."

"See what?"

Her eyes flit between his. "How great you are to them."

His hands squeeze her foot and his voice deepens, "put the child down."

Olivia laughs huskily, "Elliot, stop."

"Give me my granddaughter." Elliot has Khloe out of her arms and he expertly lies her down in the portable crib they've situated on the other side of the living room.

Olivia's grin amplifies as Elliot stalks toward her, pulling his shirt off in the process. Olivia grabs the baby monitor and she rolls off the couch and stands, squaring off with him.

"You've denied me once today," he reminds her from the other side of the couch.

Olivia holds both of her hands up in surrender. "Fine, but not on the couch!"

It's something she finds herself saying far too often. Not on the counter. Not in my office. Not at Fin's wedding. It doesn't matter where they are or who is around, he always finds a way to taste her, touch her, plunge into her. And she's not innocent, either. She'll protest and give him reasons why it's not a good idea for him to go down on her in the middle of a city-wide NYPD holiday party, just like a few weeks ago. She'd given him all the reasons why before she ultimately gave in and lifted her skirt for him. She always gives in because no matter how levelheaded she is forced to be for the both of them, she will always want him just as much as he wants her.

"The boys," she whispers, referring to Noah and Eli asleep down the hall. After Maureen had dropped off Khloe, Elliot ran out to pick up Noah from his playdate and Eli had joined them soon afterward. After a boisterous dinner with two boys and a baby, they were finally having a moment to themselves.

"I know how many children there are in the house," he tells her, stepping around the couch. He makes a lunge for her, but she knows him well enough now and she's already out of his grasp.

"The bedroom," she says, making her way down the hall. Quiet laughter tumbles out of her mouth when he catches up and his arms wrap around her waist from behind. His mouth is on her shoulder and his hands are diligently working on untying the knot that holds his sweatpants up on her hips. Before her hand touches the doorknob of his bedroom door, he pivots them and leads her into the adjacent bathroom. "I've already showered," she rushes out.

"You won't be quiet," he rumbles against her ear, his tongue licking and sucking at her neck.

"I will be," she promises, nodding her head.

"You won't be."

Olivia bites her bottom lip, knowing that when he makes a declaration like this he means it. He positions her hands on the counter and he lifts his head to meet her eyes in the mirror. Her eyes are low and he knows that her teeth are clamped over her lip to keep it from quivering in anticipation. Elliot turns the shower on before his hands are back on her, fitting themselves under the curve of her breasts.

Their argument from earlier, the night they spent apart, their agreement to live together, it's all there between them when his hand slips into her underwear. He still hears her moan over the running water and he chuckles because no matter how much she promises to be quiet, she never is. His fingers circle her clitoris before he reaches further, dipping his fingertips in the heated drip of her, before he brings his wet fingers back to play with her some more.

"Elliot," she moans. Steam billows around them as his free hand gets the grey sweatpants to pool around her ankles. The top of her thighs press into the hard edge of the bathroom sink as her hands fly to blindly push his pants down.

"Oh, God!"

He slides the tip of his erection against her and she whines in satisfaction. "Bend over," he instructs and she pushes backward, her hands replanting themselves on the counter, deliberately bumping him with her ass.

"Please," she whispers. Her eyes slip closed as she waits for him to make contact again.

He is very well-endowed. She's told him that more than once. And late at night, with their naked, sweaty bodies tangled on top of a disheveled bed, she tells him how good he feels. How complete he makes her feel. She's never known sex to be this way. Good, at the very least, exceptional at best. She doesn't remember if she's ever had sex with him and she didn't come. Even when she's tired, even when she tries to hold out, someway somehow he coaxes it out of her. So now as he slides into her, his mouth sucking on her shoulder and grabbing her breasts in his big hands, she shudders around him.

"Oh, Liv," he mumbles behind her. "You feel so fucking good."

Her mouth is hanging open, but her voice is stuck, and finally for the first time ever he doesn't have to remind her to quiet down. He slowly sinks into her over and over and when she finally has her bearings, her eyes lock with his in the mirror. "See," she whispers smugly. "I can be quiet."

Oh, but Elliot is always up for a challenge, and his hips still, his hard cock reaching so far inside of her that she yelps and pushes herself up on her tiptoes. Elliot laughs behind her, tangling her hair into his fingers and turning her head so that he's able to see her face. The mirror is completely fogged now and she doesn't know if it's from the shower or their heavy breathing, or both. "I'm going easy on you," he tells her before he covers her mouth with his. Her right hand covers his jaw as she tries to keep their lips merged, letting her moans find life inside of his mouth. His pace quickens and sweat drips down their bodies until finally she comes for him. Her orgasm buckles her knees, tightens her abdomen and her body literally ripples around him. She saturates him, hugs him even tighter and when he comes, it's her name that tumbles out of mouth in an uncharacteristically loud moan.

Olivia, who barely has full use of her legs, still laughs. "Who can't shut up now?"

—

"I do want to live with you, El but don't you think we're too old to buy a house? I don't want to triple my commute to work. I'd like to stay in Manhattan. We can find a really nice place, three bedrooms."

"Let's look at both. You call your people and I'll call mine."

She chuckles to herself. "What about that did you think was negotiable? If there's an emergency at work—"

"You're not going to be working there forever are you?"

Olivia sits up in the bed and she turns in his direction. "What?"

"I mean we're talking about the rest of lives, right? You don't want to retire? Ever? I'd like to travel."

"Honey, don't." Olivia brings her feet out of the covers, dropping them to the floor before she steadies herself.

"What?"

Her head whips toward him, but she doesn't turn to look at him. "I told you why Ed and I broke up. We've discussed this."

His response is simple. "I'm not Ed." He almost sounds disgusted that she'd even compare them.

"And you're not Elliot either," she claims softly. "The Elliot I know would never ask me to leave SVU."

"Not right now, no. But in a couple of years? Yes. I'd like you to consider retiring eventually. Or slowing down. By the time Noah is in high school, I'd like to take you guys to Italy to live for a bit. I love it there. You'd love it there."

"I'm not." Olivia shakes her head. Does he really expect her to live in the place he escaped to with his wife? The place he ran away to to get away from her? "There are so many things wrong with what you're saying right now. When did you start making all these plans?" He's thinking way too far ahead for her. Now she's imagining Noah in high school speaking Italian and her mind begins to spin.

She'd given him 365 days for him to be ready for this and now that they're in it, he won't slow down.

"Olivia, you're practically someone's grandmother," Elliot says, motioning to the sleeping one year old resting between them. "The time is coming. I wouldn't ask you to leave the job tomorrow. I wouldn't expect you to retire any time soon, but I'd like for it to be in your plans. It'd make me feel comfortable to know that eventually…" he motions forward with his hand, not feeling it necessary to speak the words again.

This hadn't even been a conversation with Ed, but as she stands there with wet hair and a satisfying ache between her legs after just having been fucked by the love of her life, retirement doesn't sound all that bad anymore. She's worked in the same unit for decades now. Her reasons for ever joining SVU, her mother and the depth of the pain they both had to endure are the same reasons why she has stayed. But will it ever be enough? Her job will never be done and she's approaching an age where maybe it's time for Olivia to stop working so hard and just be happy.

When she speaks this time, she's resigned, soft, open. "If I think about retiring, if we're going to travel, it doesn't make sense to buy a house. We won't even be here."

"So that's a yes?"

"I said I'll think about it, El." He knows by her smile that she's doing more than considering it. "I really loved Paris," she whispers.

"I am not learning French and if you think I'm going to live where Tucker took you and Noah, you're insane."

"But you think I'll live in Rome?" Olivia counters. They've come to a place where they don't argue about Kathy. It isn't worth it. She thinks now if he had a younger, beautiful partner that he all of a sudden he clicked with, right now, how would she handle it? Would she be okay losing him and watching it happen slowly in front of her eyes? The answer is a resounding no. And though there had been healing and understanding, Olivia does not want to live in the memories he and his wife once shared in Italy. "How about Spain? I've always wanted to go to Madrid."

Elliot nods in agreement. "I'd love that."

"You and me in Spain in a couple of years." Olivia leans across the bed, her torso stretching over Khloe as her lips find his. "The kids are going to think we're crazy for moving in so soon."

He chuckles. "They won't."

"Do you think they'll judge us?" she asks cautiously. "For living in sin."

"We aren't exactly living in matrimony right now, Liv," he says, motioning toward her bare legs and the shirt that hangs off of her. He has a glimpse down her shirt and she blushes before she finally gets back into bed. "I didn't know that you'd be open to that conversation, honestly. I didn't even expect you to agree to live with me."

"Why wouldn't I be open to it?"

He knows a trick question when he hears one. He picks up the remote and he turns the television off. "Hey, let's go to dinner on Friday."

Her eyes close, preparing for sleep. "Are you going to ask me to marry you?"

Elliot yawns, throwing one hand behind his head, settling in on his side of the bed. "If I was, don't you think that question would ruin it?"

Olivia turns her back to him and Khloe, pulling the comforter over her shoulder. "Do you want that? To get married again? Because I… we don't have to. I understand." Her eyes open and they search into the darkness of his bedroom as she waits for his response.

"Would you say yes if I asked?"

She smiles and the anxiety slips away just like that. "I'm not answering that until there's a ring."

"So I'll get a ring."

"I'm not telling you to get a ring. I'm saying… if I am ever answering that question, it won't be hypothetical."

"Can't believe this all started over dishes and now we're engaged."

Olivia laughs into her pillow. "We are not engaged."

"Kind of, we are."

"Elliot."

"I love you, Liv. Goodnight."

—

She knows what is happening and she has spent the last few days in preparation. An appointment with her waxer, her eyebrow threader and most importantly a manicure. If he was going to ask her to marry him, she wanted to be prepared. As much as she tries to hide it, as much as she tries to minimize what is happening between them, there is a piece of her that is in her thirties again. She finds herself smiling at just the thought of being his wife. "I won't change my last name," she had whispered last night as he kissed her goodbye. Elliot had smiled and his response had been, "we'll see."

She remembers their 'first date' on the day before Valentine's Day and she'd been so afraid of his honesty and his candor.

She wonders if now he's the one who is nervous worrying if she'll say yes.

When he joins her at the table, after going to the bathroom for the second time, he doesn't look at her. Olivia tries to read him, tries to catch his eyes, but he won't budge. "If you think I'm going to sit here like this for an hour with you acting like this—"

"Ok. I'm a little nervous," Elliot admits. "Hold on." He turns around and he signals for the waitress. He orders two shots of tequila and then he asks Olivia if she wants anything. "The shots are for me," he says.

Olivia laughs. "Make it four." The waitress laughs before she leaves and Olivia doesn't know if it's at them, or with them. After another awkward moment of silence, she clears her throat. "Elliot," she calls softly.

"No. Don't say anything."

"Don't say anything?"

"Just… let's wait for the drinks."

"Oh. Cool." She gives him a tight smile and rolls her eyes before she reaches for her phone. "Fin has been keeping a count of how many times Amanda is late this month," she says absently. When he doesn't respond, she looks up at him. "What? We can't talk at all?"

Elliot huffs. "I never figured Fin to be that type of boss."

She gives a smile that says thank you before she turns her attention back to her phone. "He's not. He's busting her balls."

"Interesting."

"Jesus, Elliot, if you are this nervous about asking me, maybe you shouldn't ask me."

"It's a big deal, Liv."

"If it's that big a deal, then maybe you're not ready. We can table moving in together. I don't mind that. I'm still going to have an issue with your cleanliness, though."

"It's because we're always on the go, not because we're true slobs," he defends without any commitment behind it.

"Liar," she says softly, absently scrolling through her phone. "Just saying that we don't have to get married. We don't even have to live together. If you need more time, I get that. This is moving quick—"

"What do you think I'm asking you today, Olivia?" Elliot asks. He reaches out and he covers her hand with his and her eyes dart up to his.

"What do you mean?" Olivia asks. He was asking her to marry him right? She opens her mouth to answer, but it's already dawned on him and he begins laughing. "Elliot, shut up."

"You got your hair done today."

"I did."

"What else did you get done?" His eyes scan her body and then they drop down to her hand in his. He flips her hand over and he inspects her nails. "Your nails." He starts laughing again, this time harder. "You thought this was a proposal?"

Olivia's cheeks redden and she pulls her hand away from his. "Don't make fun."

"Do you think I can get a ring in two days? A good ring?" Elliot asks. He shakes his head with a giant smile still on his face. "You were going to say yes."

"Elliot."

"I mean I knew, but now I know."

"Why the hell are we here, Elliot? We could've ordered in," Olivia grumbles.

The waitress returns with their shots and instead of the expected cheers, Olivia grabs a shot and swallows it down. Elliot laughs, knowing that she's embarrassed and now pissed off at him. "Cheers," he says to himself before he takes his own shot.

"So?"

His eyes search out hers and he holds her gaze before he speaks, "I want to adopt Noah."

Olivia's eyes widen. "What?"

"It's a whole thing. There'll be a home study. I'll get fingerprinted—"

"I know the steps to adoption, Elliot."

"Noah isn't old enough to consent, but I'd like to talk to him about it. Do you think he would like that?" He watches as the tears formulate in her eyes and he smiles. "Should I have asked this at home?"

"No, you're sweet. You're perfect, Elliot."

"No one has ever said that to me before." They share a small laugh and her tears finally fall.

She drags the cloth off of her lap and places it on the table. She stands and she bends over the table and he meets her for a kiss. "I love you," she says before she sits back down. "Yeah, Elliot. I think he'd love it."

—

"Guys, I know it's Valentine's Day. Garland called me in and I had no choice," Olivia says shrugging out of her coat and slinging it across her arm. The red dress she wears hugs her curves and her hair is freshly blown, falling down her back in soft waves. She'd been wearing it longer these days, with Elliot's encouragement. He loves her hair and she knows it has more to do with being able to grab it, more than how it actually looks. "I know you all have plans and believe me, I don't want to be here either," Olivia says, lifting her glasses and resting them on top of her head. "Let's make this quick, huh?"

"You look beautiful," Amanda says. "Sorry your date was interrupted."

"Never even got started," she whispers. Olivia tries not to pout as Kat and Amanda follow her into her office. "What have we got?"

"We've got a 'he said, she said,' Captain," Kat reports. She clutches a manila folder to her chest and Olivia holds her hand out. Kat hesitates before she steps forward and hands it to Olivia.

She eyes her for a moment before she turns to Amanda. "And what do we have on our suspect?"

"He's a white male, six feet tall, two hundred pounds."

"And the guy we've got matches her description? Where is he? Where is she?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Fin says, standing at the door. "We've got him in interrogation one and he's ready."

"I was just getting the run down," Olivia explains.

"Cap," Amanda calls and Olivia's eyes lift to meet hers. "Go talk to him."

Olivia's eyebrow lifts and for the first time, she notices that Fin, Kat, and Amanda are all smiling. "What's going on? For cops, you guys are terrible at this. At lying." Olivia flips the folder open and inside she finds a takeout menu. "The hell is this?"

"Liv, why don't you go have a chat with the man in interrogation one," Fin says again, this time pointing. "White male, six feet tall, two hundred and ten pounds. Balding."

"Fin," Olivia says in warning and suddenly she realizes why Elliot hadn't been at all upset when she called to tell him that she'd be late for their date. God. Was he here?

"Liv." Olivia's brown eyes meet Fin's green eyes and she swears that maybe she isn't going to be the only person crying tonight. Fin reaches out and he lifts the blinds covering the one-way mirror into interrogation one, and there he stands with a shit-eating grin on his face. She should have fucking known. She'd been so consumed with getting to the office that she hadn't even taken a moment to process.

A sudden case a half-hour before her date with Elliot? She should've just known. Olivia glares at her team and she walks over to the intercom and she assures that it's switched off, even though she knows once she's in that room with him Fin will be the first one listening.

"Everyone here is fired," Olivia says, pointing at each of them before she finally walks into the room. Elliot is seated at the table and she walks over to him, peering down at him from the other side of it. "Well?"

"It's nice to see you, too, sweetheart."

"You had Garland lie to me?"

Elliot shrugs. "You weren't really expecting this to go down in a restaurant? That's boring. I thought about the roof, but it's snowing."

"You're an idiot," she tells him, fighting the smile breaking free on her lips. "Let's hear it."

"Hear what?"

"The speech. I know you have a speech."

"No speech," he says casually, his dimples deepening as his smile widens even further. She opens her mouth to respond, but before she is able to his hand comes from underneath the table and he drops a small, black velvet box between them. "That's for you."

She challenges him with her eyes. "Are you going to ask?"

"Liv, I've loved you since I was in my thirties. That's over twenty years of loving someone that until a year ago I never thought… I never could've imagined this for us." Elliot doesn't cry often, but he allows the tears to freely fall down his face and it's only then that she notices her face is wet, too. She'd started crying even before she'd entered the room and God, they were so old and emotional and embarrassing at this point in their lives. She wipes the tears from her face and she takes a deep breath, her hand dropping down to the table to steady herself. "I've made so many mistakes here, God. You know that. You know my faults, Liv and you love me anyway. I just want to spend the rest of our lives showing you that I love you, too. There were years that I wanted to say it and couldn't and now that we're here, I don't think I'll ever stop. You and Noah are my family, and the kids…my kids love you so much."

It's always been important for her, for them to do this right. She has never wanted to replace Kathy. Not even when they were running around Manhattan as partners with feelings rippling underneath their skin, she has never wanted to disrespect or hurt his family. It's why he loves her impossibly harder, because even in moments when he didn't protect his family, she always had.

"More than they love you, Liv, they respect you," Elliot says. "And they're right outside that door. All of them."

Olivia looks forward and she smiles, even though she is unable to see them.

"There is something to be said about a woman who'll wait 365 days for a kiss," he says and they both laugh. "Olivia," he begins again, standing to his feet, dipping his head to gather her attention again. He smiles as their eyes lock. He takes a deep breath and he opens his mouth to speak. "Last year I didn't have the balls to ask you on a date on Valentine's Day. So this year, I figured I should aim higher. Will you marry—"

"Yes!" She's around the table, her arms flying around his neck and her lips melting into his before he even gets the question out. His hands frame her face as their tongues dance in his mouth and her tears wet his face. "I'll marry you, Elliot."

"She said yes!" From the other side of the walls surrounding them, they hear cheers. When she pulls her face away from his, both doors of the interrogation room open and Noah comes running toward them first.

"You said yes!" Olivia is unable to even speak as Maureen, Kathleen, Lizzie, Dickie, and Eli file into the room, followed by Fin, Amanda, and Kat.

"I've got champagne!" Lizzie announces. There's a cake and champange flutes and this has been an elaborate plan from the beginning. Her heart swells at the people around her and she almost feels lightheaded. It's too much and mostly a blur as Elliot finally grabs her hand and slips a solitaire diamond ring onto her ring finger. She's still crying as everyone pulls her hand into theirs and finally after getting a good look at the rock on her ring finger, her eyes find him again.

I love you, he mouths.

God, I love you, too.

—

At the last wedding Olivia had attended, after an unfortunate run-in with her ex-boyfriend from many moons ago, Olivia danced with Elliot for the first time. He had publicly held her close, kissed her sweetly, and after too many drinks and too much closeness, his lips had dropped to her ear, "how drunk are you? Think you can be quiet?"

"Not at Fin's wedding," Olivia had whispered back. She couldn't even hear the music, didn't know who all was still there, but she did feel his hands. The way they were hot and insistent on her body, pulling her so close that she felt his erection on her belly.

They never made it to the car. It'd been the family bathroom where he had slipped her black thong to the side and buried himself deep inside of her with his hand slipped over her mouth. She came around him with fifty people on the other side of the door and she'd thought that was bad.

"We haven't taken photos yet," she reminds him. "You cannot ruin my makeup."

"I'll be careful."

"It took three women to get me into this dress," Olivia warns, holding both of her hands up. For the first time she sees her wedding band and her engagement ring fitted on her ring finger and she gasps. "We got married today," she mumbles.

"We did, Mrs. Stabler."

"Benson-Stabler," she corrects. Olivia Benson-Stabler. She'd been practicing her signature lately. OBS had been written in more than one of her notebooks and the girls had insisted on having her initials personalized on everything she owns. Pens, bags, hangers, coffee mugs, everything. "Let me," she says, untying the tulle overskirt that left a train trailing behind her everywhere she went. "You're going to unzip me carefully and allow me to step out of the dress. There's a nude slip under here and that has to come off too."

He's standing there so elegantly dressed, in his perfect tuxedo waiting patiently, but she knows her husband. The second she gives him the green light, it'll all be over. "I promise, honey. If you'd hurry and get it off, we won't have a problem."

"I have on lingerie, Elliot. Control yourself." Olivia turns around, bearing her back to him. She feels his eyes as they rake down over the curve of his ass.

She feels his breath on her neck when he speaks. "Not with my wife. I don't have to control myself with my wife." His hands are feather-light as he slips the zipper down and the skin-tight ivory wedding dress falls loose on her shoulders. She steps out of the embroidered gown and she watches as he carefully hangs it up. When he turns around, she has the slip off, pooled around her stiletto sandals and she is standing there in what is supposed to be her wedding night lingerie.

Everything she wears is ivory and sheer, from the unsupportive bra to the strips of fabric that make the underwear she wears are all decorative and barely functional. The garter belt rests just across her abdomen and tiny clips were attached to nude stockings that came up to her mid-thighs. And his favorite part, the lace wedding garter fitted around her right thigh did nothing but taunt him.

When his eyes finally meet hers, they're already apologetic. "Sorry," he whispers.

Olivia's face splits into a grin. If the mishap at Fin's wedding was bad, she knows that this time it is going to be so much worse.

She hadn't planned to make love to her husband for the first time in the church where they exchanged their vows. She thought that they would at least make it to the venue, or maybe they'd find some release in the limousine on their way there. Elliot has her left leg hooked into the crook of his arm as he slips inside of her. With limited options, he'd chosen the wall farthest from the door to consummate their marriage.

"I've dreamed of this," he whispers into her mouth, before he devours it, plunging his tongue past her lips as his hips go into overdrive. "Of calling you my wife, it's been a dream."

He has a habit of saying the most beautiful things to her when he has her this way, oblivious and quivering around him. "I love you so much," she rushes out, her short manicured nails biting into his strong shoulders. "God, El."

For their wedding reception, Olivia's hair cascades down her back and the elegant bun she wore for the ceremony is an afterthought. Just like her underwear and garter belt that is now stuffed into her suitcase because her husband is a liar and he hadn't controlled himself at all. He'd made a mess of both of them and she doesn't even blame him.

She had spent years introducing this man. For the majority of it, it'd been as her partner. Over the last year, as her boyfriend. They hadn't been engaged long enough for her to introduce him to many people as her fiancé, so that sounded the most foreign on her lips.

None of it had ever sounded quite correct, or fit right in her mouth, anyway. His hand slips into hers and he flashes his straight white teeth at her, as they wait for their cue.

Finally, she thinks, someone is going to get it right.

"Introducing for the first time, please give a warm welcome to husband and wife, Mr. & Mrs. Elliot Stabler!"