Friday morning…
As a surprise to Elliot, Olivia wakes before him and makes breakfast.
"We both have to eat," she explains.
As they enjoy her omelets and fruit, they talk about everything but the proverbial elephant in the room. Knowing they have to say dirty, raunchy things shouldn't be a problem for two cops who've seen the best and worse parts of sex in the multitude of years they spent investigating those types of crimes.
But saying them to each other? That's a whole different ball game, in a whole other stadium.
"Last night was…nice," Elliot tells her.
Between their slow dancing and her falling asleep cuddled up next to him on the sofa, it was perfect.
"I gotta get you one of those word-a-day calendars for your desk," she says, grinning. "You use that word an awful lot."
"Yet, you know exactly what I mean when I do," he tells her with a smirk. "I can use other words if it would make you happy."
He pins her with an intense look, letting his eyes dip to her mouth before meeting her gaze again.
"Tread lightly, Detective."
"Copy that, Captain," he says with a nod. "You uh, know what you plan on whispering sensuously to me?"
Olivia shakes her head as she stands from the counter and gathers their plates and utensils.
"What you're gonna say will be more important," she tells him. "Spires gets off on carrying out the husband's promises."
"True," he agrees, getting up to wipe down the counter and stove. "But we'll both be responsible for getting him revved up enough to come after us."
"Are you saying he's gonna choose Nita and Riley Fitzsimmons instead?" She asks, hitting the start button on the dishwasher.
With her job as CEO of a tech firm, Nita is the only other powerful brunette in the group besides Olivia. Riley is a sports medicine doctor but isn't close enough to being the so-called "alpha" that Eric Spires targets.
"It's a possibility," Elliot tells her. "Out of everyone else, he looks like he keeps himself fit enough for the perp."
The man has a good twenty pounds of flab on her former partner, wears a bad toupee and has a speech impediment.
"Now you're just fishing for compliments," she says, heading for her bedroom. "You know my squad already confirmed that he's watching us."
Elliot follows but stops her as he reaches the living room with a hand on her elbow.
"First, no romantic proposal and as much effort as I make keeping myself in shape since the day we met," he says dramatically. "Now you can't be bothered to at least tell me you've noticed?" He asks, making her smile. "That hurts, Toni. It really…it just hurts."
"You done?"
"Yeah," he answers, still grinning.
"Good," she says turning. "Now if you excuse me, I'm gonna go take advantage of that ridiculous jacuzzi tub in my room before we have to get ready."
Elliot shakes his head and turns in the direction of his own room.
"I didn't even get my own damn bathroom and she has a—" he starts mumbling.
"—Elliot?"
"Yeah."
"You look very…nice."
He smiles as she turns, enters her room and closes the door.
Friday afternoon…
Elliot exits his room in a denim blue button-down, Navy-blue casual pants and a burgundy tie. At the same time, Olivia steps out on the other side of the condo wearing a tailored dark gray suit with a rose-colored satin blouse, looking every bit the corporate shark attorney that she isn't.
They each stop and stare at one another from across the room. By the end of the day, they'll be back in their own homes.
"You ready Mr. Quinn?"
"I am, Mrs. Quinn."
They meet at the door, before he pulls it open, he turns to rest his back against it.
"Before we go, I just wanna say—
"—You've already apologized, Elliot."
"Please just…listen," he tells her and she nods in agreement. "Minus the pain I caused, I've enjoyed this time with you," he goes on. "It reminded me of days filled with terrible jokes in a brown sedan and nights filled with too much coffee in a dim, leaky precinct."
"Ah, the good old days," Olivia agrees with a melancholic smile.
"Yeah. And as much as I understand if it was," he continues. "I'd really like for this not to be our last good day together."
Tears threaten but she looks away and takes a breath to get them under control.
"I'll keep that in mind," she promises.
Elliot nods his understanding, turns and opens the door for her.
"Let's go get this bastard."
At Lemons to Lemonade…
Should the couples get a bit carried away, the four sets of loveseats are lined up in a row against one wall and separated by curtains.
"Alright lovers," Maurice begins, rubbing his hands together. "Today. Is. The. Day," he continues. "On Monday we worked on effective, respectful communication, Wednesday it was a reminder of the friendship that began your romantic journeys and today is the culmination of our seminar and the reason you're all here…the lemonade."
The crowd laughs at the terminology but are all smiles.
"Now I know how ridiculous it sounds," Maurice admits. "But if it wasn't working, none of you would be sitting so close and holding hands," he goes on. "Even the Quinns," he says, nodding at Elliot and Olivia.
She doesn't know what prompted her to do it, but reaching for his hand once they were out of the car, felt right. Maybe it's because of the confirmation that Eric Spires is watching or maybe it just calms her nerves.
"It's been a while for most of you so I want you to remember, there's no pressure," he suggests. "You've known each other for years. You know what your partners like," he continues, pacing in front of them. "You know what makes their breath hitch, what gives them goosebumps, what makes their hearts race," he adds. "You know what makes them moan, groan and beg for more."
Maurice hears more murmurs from the group and knows he's on the right track.
"But in case it's been so long that those things have changed, this is where that effective communication comes in," he tells them. "Let your partner know what you like, where and how you want to be touched, kissed and caressed," he adds. "Get creative with your sensuous whispers, lovers. And if you can't make it to the parting words and survey portion of this last session, feel free to take a bottle of chilled lemonade on the way out."
The enthusiastic therapist, dims the room on the way to his office.
"I'll be back in ten minutes for those of you who may still be here," he announces. "See you in a bit."
The second the man closes the door, the couples all lean toward each other and begin the exercise. Judging by the giggling and murmurs, they may not be the first ones to leave the session.
Elliot looks to Olivia to judge her readiness. After she gives him a simple nod, he scoots closer and leans in.
"You are…the most beautiful woman I've ever known," he begins. "Just the sound of your voice sets my skin on fire," he adds. "I wanna map every curve and valley of your body with my hands."
Olivia moves back a bit and shakes her head that it's not good enough.
"I wanna take down your zipper and wrap my hand around you, slide my palm up and down your shaft, twisting my wrist until you're solid for me, granite," she rasps. "Then I'd get on my knees and take you in and out of the warmth of my mouth until you could no longer speak."
She leans away, sees the near-black darkening of his eyes and he nods his understanding.
"But I wouldn't wanna finish like that," Elliot asserts. "I'd wanna strip you out of that power suit, lick on your breasts until your areolas are pebbled and your nipples get hard enough to suck on," he adds. "Slip one, then two digits inside of you, thrusting and curling my fingers against your walls until they start pulsing around me."
Olivia's breath hitches and she can feel her heart instantly start beating at the pace of a hummingbird.
"I'd straddle you," she takes over. "Rub myself all over your shaft, letting you feel how wet you've made me," she adds. "I'd open my mouth against your neck, taste you with my tongue again while I took hold of that steel rod of yours," she goes on, seeing goosebumps form on his skin. "Slowly lowering myself over you inch by blessed inch until you've filled me up."
It's subtle but she thinks she hears him groan in her ear.
"I'd grab hold of your hips and pulse up as you grind down on me," Elliot says. "And after you had enough control, I'd flip you over and push inside you from behind," he adds. "I'd tug your hair out of the way and latch on to your neck and suck as I found that spot you like when I'm inside you and I'd punish it over and over and over again until you screamed."
Olivia grasps his thigh to get his attention because she can tell he is a breath away from shoving his tongue down her throat and taking her right now on that little couch they've shared all week.
"Time to go," she whispers against his lips.
The two waves at Maurice in his office as they make a hasty exit. The man claps excitedly and yells,
"Enjoy the lemonade!"
En route to the condo they get a call from Bell. Her and Churlish are sitting in a surveillance van outside their building while Velasco and Bruno wait inside a connecting condo as backup.
"Whatever you guys said in your little therapy session did the trick," Bell says over the Bluetooth in the SUV.
"Yeah," Churlish agrees. "He's hightailing inside like he just remembered he left the stove on."
The former partners understand the feeling.
Elliot had to get up and rush out semi-hard and so uncomfortable he tossed Olivia the keys, who wasn't that much better off than him. If not for her blazer, she's certain her nipples would've been protruding through her bra and her silk blouse.
Thank God for traffic and focused breathing.
Fifteen minutes later, they pull up. They get out hand in hand in almost the same rushed pace as the perp, Elliot nearly dragging Olivia behind him.
"Don't you even think about touching me in this fucking elevator, Elliot," she warns, seeing how worked up he is. "You're not the only one who's…affected, and we still have to get this asshole."
"I know," he nearly growls, intermittently squeezing and relaxing his fists. "That's why I'm on this side of the elevator, Captain."
The sound of his voice is not helping so she doesn't say another word and as the box-on-a-string climbs to their floor, she takes deep breaths and focuses on the paisley print in the carpet.
But, once inside the condo, knowing they need to get him on as many charges as possible, they continue the exercise. He grabs her hips, pinning her to the front door as she puts her arms around his neck.
"I'm gonna fuck you on every surface in this place," Elliot rasps. "You'll be lucky if you can still walk by tomorrow."
"Stop talking and show me," Olivia orders. "I'm tired of waiting."
He surprises her by sliding his hands over her ass, lifting her and putting her on the foyer table, moving to stand between her thighs then attaching his mouth to her neck, causing her to moan.
Inside the surveillance van…
"Wow. They are…really selling it," Churlish says.
"True professionals," Bell comments, hiding her grin.
Back in the condo…
"We're gonna need something sturdier than this table," Olivia points out. "Why don't we move this to the couch."
Both look around as he carries her. Spires still hasn't come out and shown himself. He lays her down on the camel leather, covering her with his body, careful not to rest his crotch against her.
Whatever calm Elliot found after they left Lemons to Lemonade is blown to shit by the way Olivia is running her hands all over his chest, kissing his neck and trying to make it look as if she wants his pants off without actually tugging them down. It makes for an interesting visual from the camera Jet has pointed at the sofa.
"I'm betting you're already wet, Toni," he tells her. "Why don't you take your pants off and show me."
"That's a wonderful idea," Spires quips, finally stepping out from the shadows near Elliot's bedroom, gun aimed at them. "I can't wait to see what I'll be working with."
The two scramble to stand.
"Who the fuck are you?" Elliot asks, putting Olivia behind him. "And what the hell are you doing in our place?"
The blonde man is solidly built, at least 6'1" maybe 210lbs-215lbs and toting a silver Smith & Wesson .44 caliber magnum revolver. All guns are intimidating but that gun garners instant cooperation even for those who are used to firearms.
No wonder the couples didn't fight back.
"There's a s-safe hidden inside the pantry," Olivia offers. "The combination is—
"—I don't want your money," he growls as if it's the biggest insult he's ever heard. "Not until I'm done anyway," he adds, smirking at her then Elliot. "See, you're gonna pay me for the privilege of showing this meathead here the proper way to fuck you."
He throws a set of handcuffs at her former partner.
"Walk over there," Spires orders, pointing at the breakfast counter. "Cuff yourself to the pipe beneath the bar."
Elliot does as he's told.
"Tight," the angry man orders. "Now try to pull away."
Again, Elliot does as he's told, pulling on the cuffs to show Spires that he can't get out of them. From his vantage point, he can see into the foyer that Reyes and Velasco are creeping inside.
"Now for the fun part," Spires says to Olivia. "Me and you get to do all those sensuously whispered fantasies," he adds. "I think I'll start with yours before we get down and dirty," he continues, rubbing his crotch. "And since I'm such a gentleman, I'm gonna lower my zipper for you."
"Don't you fucking touch her!" Elliot yells, covering the approaching footsteps of his backup.
"She's about to be the one touching me," Spires taunts, reaching back to rest his gun on the mantel. "Get over here, Antonia."
Olivia timidly approaches and the second she's in range, she brings her knee up, jabbing him in the balls. Once he's bent over in pain, she employs her infamous right cross and kicks him in the chest for good measure, knocking him to the floor.
"NYPD, freeze!" Reyes and Velasco yell in unison before noticing that the perp is already down.
"Damn Cap," Reyes says, approaching Spires' moaning form to slap those silver bracelets on him. "You whooped his ass."
"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," Velasco digs, bending down to search him as Reyes confiscates the weapon from the mantel.
Seconds later, Bell and Churlish arrive.
"Somebody wanna help me out here," Elliot requests.
Churlish approaches him with the cuff keys and lets him go.
"Everybody good?" Bell asks.
"We're good, Sergeant," Olivia answers.
Reyes reads Spires his rights as he and Velasco get him to his feet.
"I take it you're not the Quinns," Spires realizes.
"Look at that," Olivia tells him. "Braun and brains."
"I bet you would've been as tight as all the rest of 'em," he jabs as the two detectives escort him out. "He obviously ain't getting the job done," he spits at Elliot just before he gets pushed through the front door.
"Sounds like a confession to me," Elliot returns as the three men leave.
"Thanks for the assist," Olivia says to Bell. "Please give my gratitude to Jet and let her know I have an opening if she's interested."
"I absolutely will not," Bell tells her, turning to follow Reyes and Velasco. "I'll send you over my DD5s when I'm done so you can finish all the paperwork."
"You're too good to me," she says, shaking her head.
"Stop trying to poach from my squad, Captain," she digs. "You had that one long enough," she adds, pointing to Elliot as she leaves.
"I am in awe of you both," Churlish tells them. "I mean, everything I heard was so believable," she adds. "I doubt I'll be that good any time soon."
"You'll get plenty of opportunities to get better," Olivia assures her. "We've both been doing this for a long time."
"Having a good partner makes all the difference," Elliot adds, looking quickly at Olivia before continuing. "Just work on learning how to do the job right first, everything else is secondary."
"Thanks, Detective Stabler," she says. "See you back at the house," she tells Olivia heading for the door. "Oh, and the sergeant says to let you know that you can pick Noah up tomorrow after 10 am. Something about needing him to experience Phoebe's famous pancakes first," she explains with a shrug. "And the NYPD will repack your things and have 'em back at your places in a few days."
"Thanks, Churlish. I'll call Fin and don't expect to see me until Monday," she advises, moving into the living room. "It's been a long week."
"Copy that, Captain."
The officer closes the door behind herself, and it's back to being just the two of them.
Elliot approaches, joining Olivia as she stares out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Now that the adrenaline of the bust is waning, they're no longer thinking or behaving like hormonal teenagers.
"You did a great job of handling yourself there, partner," he says with a smirk.
"Yeah well, I picked up a thing or two while you were gone," she tells him. "Kind of became necessary once I looked over my shoulder one day and didn't see you anymore."
"Nah, you always were a badass," he asserts. "I've witnessed that right cross often enough to never wanna be on the receiving end."
She smiles at the compliment but doesn't turn to face him.
"You should probably ice that hand before it gets sore," Elliot suggests. "Apparently you have a lot of paperwork to do and that'll just slow you down."
"Thanks for the tip," she tells him, finally meeting his eyes. "Guess I should get to it."
"I'm gonna miss this view," he says as she walks away. "Now it's back home to the Mount Everest of laundry."
"I'm gonna miss that tub," she tells him getting her purse. "Can you drop me at home?" She asks. "I'm doing laundry for a pre-teen and it's a perpetual cycle of sweaty dance clothes, dirty socks and food-stained sheets because he keeps eating snacks in his room."
"Sure," he says but stops before opening the door.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he tells her. "Since Noah's at Fin and Phoebe's, you wanna get dinner?"
"And put off my adventures in fluffing and folding?"
"I could help with that," he offers. "I know all about pretreating stains and using vinegar to help neutralize odors."
He wants to stay in her company as long as possible so he'd probably volunteer to do just about anything. Saying she'll no longer consult on his cases or involve OC in hers terrified him.
"Now why would you volunteer to help with me and my kid's laundry when you have your own to do?" Olivia asks, looking at him as if he's grown two heads. "Especially when you haven't slept in your own bed in months."
"I told you, I'm good at—
"—That's not it," she interrupts, stepping closer.
"Jet usually does a pretty thorough job with her eyes and ears," he informs her, alluding to the mics and cameras that are likely still running. "Can we talk on the way?"
Olivia thinks about all that's happened during the week. The cooking and sharing meals together, the trip to Coney Island, his "I fell in love with you" confession, nights on the couch watching Dateline and slow dancing in the kitchen. It was a peek into the life they could have together. And if the passion they ignited just by talking dirty to one another is any indication as to what their sex life would be like? Well. She'll discuss whatever he wants.
"Yeah, El. We can talk."