A/N: A post-Scourge one-shot based on one of the many deleted scenes we deserved to have in canon. Scourge - a person or thing that causes great trouble or suffering; a whip used as an instrument of punishment.
DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story, words, and dialogue are mine. © TStabler
"Jesus," her voice croaks and she rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands. "What the hell happened, today?"
"Justice," he scoffs, raising two fingers and wagging his eyebrows at the bartender. "Only backwards."
She gives him a hard grunt of agreement, then shifts on her stool as she shrugs her way out of her leather jacket. She sighs as she gratefully takes one of the amber bottles of beer from the barman. She takes a long, slow sip, and after she swallows she shakes her head and drops her gaze. She starts to pick at the label, slowly chipping away at the blue sticker with her thumbnail. "Ya know, uh, for someone who complained about spending too much time with me, you're certainly not eager to…"
"I wasn't complaining," he interrupts, rolling his eyes. He glances down at his hand, the empty space where a brass ring used to live stares at him, almost daring him to do what he knows he's about to do. He knows that when he does it, the ring will never go back on that finger, and the thought gives him goosebumps. Thank God. "I was, uh, just...observing. Now, I miss my kids, every minute I'm not with them, but…" he takes another sharp swig of his beer and pulls on the lapels of his suit jacket. "I would much rather be with you seventy-two-hours straight than spend another second arguing with Kathy."
"Again?" she asks, her voice laced with concern. She peels off a strip of the beer's label, then says, "What, uh, what are you fighting about, this time?"
He laughs. "I couldn't even tell ya. Maybe I tied my shoes the wrong way and she noticed, or maybe I opened the refrigerator with the wrong hand." He squints and shakes his head.
"It's that bad?" she asks him softly. She watches him bite his lip and nod. "I am so…"
"Don't," he stops her, and then he raises his half-empty bottle. "I didn't bring you out here to drink away what happened with Kathy, I brought you here...to celebrate." He smirks and tips his bottle in her direction.
With narrow eyes, she clinks the neck of her beer against his and takes a long sip. "We're celebrating what, exactly? Finding out that Syph is a defense to murder?"
As he lets out another laugh, he scoots his stool closer to her and rests his hand on her knee. "You and me," he says with a wink. He sees her face flush and he realizes what he must sound like. "Um, promotions?" he waves a hand. "Ringing a bell?"
"Oh," she laughs, and her hand drops on top of his. She pats it twice and then her body freezes when his thumb hooks over her hand. "Congratulations," she whispers, mouth gone dry, staring into his eyes.
"Same to you," he whispers. He licks his lips and looks at the bartender. "Hey, pal, can we get two more of these?" He clears his throat, takes a deep breath, and he says, "I, uh, I don't think I would've gotten it if…" he turns to her. "I think we only earned them because...we were together. Are. Are together. Partners."
"Are you feeling okay?" she asks, her lips crooked into a small smirk. He's nervous, it's endearing, and she knows exactly what he's doing. She elbows him and says, "Drop the sly act, Stabler."
"Not an act," he grits out, and he downs the last of his first bottle then grips the second. "Shit," he grimaces, then takes a sip. "Come with me." He pulls on her hand, dragging her off the stool, and he tugs her through the bar, past pool tables, around the dartboards, and he pushes a door open without even knowing into what room he's taking her.
"What the hell?" she breathes, and when he turns and presses her hard into the stone wall behind her, she grabs his arms. "Elliot, what is with you, tonight?"
He exhales. "Talking to Varney's wife...she didn't know her husband at all. She had no idea he was sick, or…" he shakes his head. "I don't think Kathy would bat a fucking eyelash if I didn't go home for weeks at a time, I mean, she doesn't question it as it is. That's why we…" he stops. Not yet. "But you, baby." He waves a finger at her. "You know me. You'd know, immediately, if something was...off."
"Like right, the fuck, now, you mean?" She attempts a joke, but he isn't laughing. She tilts her head. "What's going on? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he says. "Everything is...so fucking right, now." He smirks, leans into her, and he whispers, "Why do you think we work so fucking well together? Why, after so many years, did I get this shiny new shield...with you?" He brushes his lips over hers, he can feel her breath on his mouth, smell her beer. "You, Liv. Not Alphonse, not Marlowe, you. Because you...you make me better. Faster. Stronger. You make me work harder, and fuck, you make me so damned determined to…" he searches her eyes, he moves closer, and he smiles again. "To make sure nothing ever fucking happens to you."
"Why?" Her word is little more than air. She breathes him in and her entire body goes numb.
He chuckles, slips his fingers through her hair, and he whispers. "You know why."
"Tell me," she says a little louder, and she feels his hands pulling at the waistband of her black slacks. She rolls her eyes, she knows that she's been in this spot before, that he's been in control of this since day fucking one and she's more than willing to give in whenever he wants, whenever he needs, but now, this moment is going to change everything.
Everything.
"I love you, Liv," he says, and he moves the final millimeter and kisses her hard. He pulls her pants over her hips, nipping at her lips and tongue, and breathlessly he says, "I'm so fucking proud of you, by the way."
She rolls her body into his, laughs at how eagerly he's trying to get himself out of his khakis, and she drops her hands to help him. "Ditto, Stabler," she says, and when he cups her chin and pulls her face up to look at him, she knows what he wants. The words build in her throat, they crawl their way up, skate across her tongue, hold onto her teeth for dear life. "I love you."
Three years of secrets, three years of lies, three years of pretending this is nothing more than a way to get themselves through hard cases and cold nights, three years of suppressed emotion come to light on the wings of shiny new badges and a title neither truly recognizes as important.
He laughs as he finally springs free, and then he moans when her hand wraps around his shaft. The way she strokes him sets his entire body on fire. "God, I love you, it's always been…"
"I know," she breathes, pulling harder, holding tighter. "I've always known, I was just...waiting...hoping…"
"Guess we just gave ourselves another promotion, huh?" he laughs, and he kisses her again as he pries her hand away from his dick and thrusts forward, into her, catching her cry in his mouth. "When you said we both needed a vacation…"
"God, yes," she moans, scratching down his back. "Where? When?"
"Two weeks," he grunts, thrusting once, "Jersey Shore." He thrusts with a growl. "With the kids," he grounds out as he slams into her. He raises her left leg, hooks it over his hip. He rocks into her with a heavy grunt, and he says, "Celebrate the right way. Our promotion, uh…" he drops his head to hers and starts moving faster. "What do you say, Detective Second Grade, Olivia Benson? Dive into some serious shit with me?"
She moans and her back scrapes against a rough patch on the wall as he hits into her. Her smile gives away her answer, but she can't keep herself from asking. "What about…"
He silences her with a kiss, not willing to bring up his wife, not ready to say the word divorce, not wanting to mar the moments like this he gets to spend with her. He hits into her again, and he knows that he's adding to his list of sins, but his scourge is also his solace. His Scarlet Letter is also his Badge of Honor. His greatest weakness is also his greatest victory. "Liv," he whispers, when he realizes all of this.
"El," she breathes back, and her body tightens around his, giving him what he wants, letting him give her everything she needs. "Oh, God, Elliot," she whimpers. As she cums, she cries his name and curls her fingers into his back.
"Fuck," he hisses, marveling at how she feels, the way she sounds. He drags his hands down her body as he moves deeper, so close, so desperately close.
She feels his hands move to her hips, she knows he's gripping her skin with one hand and her shiny, new badge with the other, and she whispers, "Couldn't have done it without you."
He laughs as he thrusts three more times, drops his head to hers, and kisses her as he spills into her. He nuzzles her nose and nips at her neck and he mumbles something she can't understand.
"What?" she pants, her chest heaving against his. She's forgotten until now that they're in a storage room in the back of McHenry's Pub, that this is the first time in three years he's taken her like this, in public, unprovoked. She slides her hands from his back to his cheeks and she asks again. "What did you just say?"
He winks at her, smirking. "Wasn't important." He pulls out of her with a hiss, checks his watch, and nods as he makes some sort of mental decision. "What d'ya say we finish those, uh, celebratory beers and then head back to my place, get some shut-eye before Cragen calls?"
SHe narrows her eyes as he helps her readjust her clothes. "Your place? Like the house? In Queens? With the wife and kids?"
He sighs, runs a hand down his face, and he nods. "Bad idea?" He coughs once. "What, uh, what if I told you...baby, Kathy took the kids to her mother's, so she could, um, tell them she's leaving."
Her eyes pop, her head tilts, and she doesn't realize she's gripping his wrists too hard. "What?"
He smiles at her again. "Come on, Olivia," he says on a chuckle. He leads her out of the small, dark room, takes her hand, and as they walk toward the bar, he says, "For a chick who just moved up a couple rungs on the cop-ladder, you sure do miss the obvious, sometimes."
"Chick?" she turns, offended, but before she can make him pay for it, his lips are on hers. She hears the whoops and hollers and she knows that he's staking his claim on her the only way a man like him can, and she caves in, gives in, after all, he still outranks her.
He chuckles again as he pulls away from her, then breezes by the bar to grab their beers and toss a fifty-dollar bill onto the counter. He kisses her temple as he says, "Spill this in my car, and you're paying to have it detailed."
"We drove here with the sedan," she tells him, taking her bottle out of his hand.
"Then fuck it," he says, and he sips his beer as they walk through the doors. They're leaving the bar with something a little more powerful and a little more permanent than they'd walked in with, and by the time they get to Queens, they know it'll be a different thing entirely. "Cheers, baby," he says, and he taps his bottle against hers again, takes a swig of his beer, and kisses her in an almost vulgar way, shooting up the finger at a guy who's started whistling behind him. "Get in the car, Benson." He slaps her ass and heads around to the other side of the car.
"This new rank is already going right to your already oversized head," she teases, and she opens the door.
Once they're both in the car, he leans over and kisses her again. "Getting handed this new badge made me realize," he whispers, "I had to do this. It was either take the chance with you or lose you, and I wouldn't have been able to…"
It's her turn to silence him with a kiss. She doesn't need explanations, she doesn't need reasons, she just needs him. "Drive," she says against his lips, and she leans back, takes a sip of her beer, and she smiles. "I'm proud of you, too, El. I'm... I'm always proud of you." She looks at him and smiles. "I need you to know that."
He reaches for her hand and clasps it over the gear shift. He has never, in his years of marriage, heard Kathy tell him that, and he is certain he wouldn't believe her if she ever did. "You really do love me, don't you?" he winks, and he pulls away from the bar and heads toward the tunnel. He doesn't really know what's coming, but he knows that as long as he's with her, he will face the misery and the fire and brimstone, he will fight it, and he will win.
A/N: This has been sitting in my docs tab for over a year. Finally decided to let it out to play. I'm sorry?