A/N: Thank you so much to those of you who followed instructions and reviewed. I don't think 10 reviews is much to ask with so many followers and favorites. For those who simply did the old F , guess what? My block list was just extended. This will likely be the last fic I post here. My fellow writers get it. Happy reading people! The next 10 reviews get you to chapter 3!

Olivia awakens feeling ridiculously warm, comfortable, and well-rested. It's been years since she's felt so good that her perpetual workload isn't the first thing on her mind when she wakes up. The only problem is, that she can't remember why. And, she's finding it damn hard to remember anything from the last twenty-four hours.

"Well look who's finally up," Elliot says, surprising her by his sudden shirtless appearance in her doorway. "It's almost 10 o'clock," he adds, eyeing his watch. "I was gonna wake you but you obviously needed the rest," he smirks.

Olivia searches her foggy mind for reasons why her former partner is comfortably shirtless, shoeless, and standing with his pants hanging open in her bedroom. As she moves to sit against her tufted headboard, she runs her fingers through her growing mane, pulling her pajama shirt closed in a gesture of modesty.

"What are you doing here?"

He approaches and sits at her hip on the bed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't live here," she answers. "And the last I checked we don't walk around half naked in front of each other."

Perhaps she's forgotten how much of her he saw when he went down on her in her anteroom several days ago. Elliot smiles widely at her, showing off his dimples before a subtle blush creeps over his skin.

"I'd be fully dressed if someone wasn't wearing my shirt."

Olivia looks down, shocked to find it's not a pajama top she's got on, but a man's dress shirt, which she notices for the first time, has the scent of his cologne.

"And since we so recently saw each other a lot more than half naked…I didn't think it'd be a problem."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, baby," he continues, surprising her with the pet name. "You know we were all over each other last night," he adds. "Now stop messing around and get dressed," he says, planting a kiss on her forehead before standing and heading for the door. "I'm making omelets."

Still dumbfounded, she answers the call of her bladder, brushes her teeth, and washes her face. As she pats her skin dry with a towel, she notices the rock on her left hand. Olivia rushes from her en suite and down the hall, not bothering to grab a robe.

"What the fuck is this?" She urges, thrusting the ring in Elliot's face as he chops veggies at the kitchen island.

"What?" he asks. "So, you chipped the polish," he says. "Get 'em done again on your lunch break or somethin' tomorrow."

"Not the –- not my damn nail, Elliot," she urges. "The ring. Why do I have a wedding ring on my finger?"

"People tend to exchange those when they get married, Liv," he answers, seemingly perplexed at her questions. "We skipped a lot of other traditions but no way I was gonna leave that one out."

After he resumes the dicing of veggies for their omelets, Olivia notices the tri-colored band on Elliot's wedding finger. She flops down on a stool at the breakfast bar in shock.

"Does Noah – does he know?"

He laughs.

"Course he knows," Elliot answers. "He was our dancing flower guy," he adds. "Cragen gave you away, Amanda was your maid of honor, Rick was my best man, Keiran and Seamus were ring bearers…none of this is ringing a bell?"

Olivi rubs at her temples because it's really, really not.

"Did…did I drink too much at the reception?"

"Well, it was a festive occasion," he answers, adding salt and pepper before whisking the eggs. "Everyone thoroughly enjoyed themselves."

"I must've," she mumbles. "Where'd we get married?"

Elliot stops what he's doing, approaches, takes her hands, and then kisses her fingers.

"The fact that you can't seem to remember our wedding day is starting to worry me," he tells her. "Hurts my feelings a little bit too."

"I'm so sorry, El."

"And after we had such an amazing wedding night," he adds. "You were so enthusiastic if I could've gotten you pregnant, we'd have a little bundle of joy by next year."

She may forget to update Noah's vaccination forms, it may slip her mind that she had a lunch planned with Amanda, or she could possibly even veg out on her own birthday. But forgetting the two of them ending a quarter-century-long case of blue balls? She thinks the fuck not.

"Wait…that didn't happen."

Suddenly, Olivia begins to get flashes of memory, none of which include a wedding. The second he notices her recollection of facts, he smiles like a pothead in a dispensary.

"You asshole."

He laughs all the harder at her insult.

"Sorry, Liv," he says, returning to his cooking. "I couldn't resist."

"You couldn't resist trying to convince me we'd gotten married in front of all our nearest and dearest for your own personal amusement?"

"I wasn't gonna let it go on much longer," he promises. "The doc said you'd have some residual fogginess when you woke up but that it'd likely wear off shortly after."

"What doctor?"

"Liv, how much do you remember?" He asks, sliding a cup of coffee in front of her in penance.

"The joint task force op where we…pretended to be married to reel in those human traffickers," she answers as more images come back. "We were at this big to-do in the meatpacking district where the alcohol was flowing but…"

"We were, of course, sticking to seltzer, ginger ale, and the occasional hors d'oeuvres when—"

"—I started feeling weird," she concludes, sipping the coffee.

"And, while I was a fan of those little baby quiches—

"— I ate the prosciutto and the – the-the fruit," Olivia says, recalling more. "Specifically, the pineapples and strawberries."

"Which were infused with MDMA," Elliot reminds her.

"They considered it a kindness for the women invited to these parties that don't get to go home after," Olivia says. "One last good time before they force them into a life of physical abuse and sexual slavery."

"Yep," Elliot answers, plating their omelets. "And between OC, SVU, and the FBI, we shut down their entire operation, rescued 25 women being held for sale, tracked the locations of not only the buyers but where previous women were sent," he adds. "Multiple raids in 12 different countries are happening today."

"Thank God," she says before digging into her breakfast. "And thanks…for this," she adds. "Minus the bad joke, it's a good start to my day."

"Would waking up married to me be so terrible?"

"If we're just talking about this delicious omelet…then no," Olivia answers. "And the coffee's not horrible either," she continues before taking another sip. "But having never been married to you or anyone else, I have nothing to compare it to."

Elliot is quiet for a few moments, enjoying the domesticity of breakfast. His eyes fall to the ring on her finger.

"It uh, it looks good on you," he comments.

"Don't try to flatter me," she begins. "I still owe you for your little ruse and that may mean never getting this shirt back."

Not that seeing his bare chest for as long as possible is an unwanted coincidence.

"I was talking about the ring," he informs her. "It's real by the way. Borrowed from a DEA seizure. A three-carat princess cut stone with another carat in a platinum eternity band."

She smiles in amusement as she continues eating her omelet.

"You pick yours out too?"

"Yep," he says, eying her hand again.

"It's just a ring, Elliot," she asserts. "Now remind me how I ended up wearing this," she adds, gesturing to the shirt. "And please tell me it wasn't something too embarrassing."

"Sorry partner," he says, gathering their plates. "I can't."

"Why do I remember hearing Adele?"

Elliot stands to load the dishwasher before topping off her cup.

"When I noticed you were…different," he begins. "I moved you to the dance floor, got a good look at your pupils, and tried to control how…"

"How what?"

"How…handsy you were getting."

Fuck. Being intimate with him in private is one thing, groping the man in a room full of people is quite another. They've never even been on a date. She drops her face into both palms, embarrassed.

"How bad?"

"Pressing your nose against my neck, nibbling my ear," he begins. "You uh, ran your hands all over my chest, grabbed my ass."

"Shit, El. I'm sorry."

Sorry she can't remember how it felt.

"Thankfully that was after we'd wired funds for the purchase of two girls and recorded them talking about their operation," he offers. "We were still doing some semblance of dancing when the task force raided the place," he adds. "I took you to Mercy right away. They gave you some fluids and after you were stable, I offered to take you home and watch you for the next twelve hours."

"And the shirt?"

"The MDMA had you hyperfixated on the smell and texture of it," Elliot goes on. "I managed to distract you with the colors in my tie while I got you some water," he continues. "By the time I came back, you'd stripped out of your dress and down to your underwear."

"Well…this just keeps getting better and better," she tells him, scrubbing a hand over her face. "But we didn't…"

Elliot dries his hands, rounds the breakfast bar, and approaches Olivia. He threads his palms through her hair, leans down to her ear, and whispers.

"No," he answers, stepping back with a smirk on his face. "All those years in SVU and you think I'd have sex with you while you were under the influence?"

"No, I…no," she asserts. "I know you'd never do something like that," she adds. "Whether I threw myself at you or not."

"It wasn't easy," Elliot admits. "As fancy as that leather sofa is, it was not comfortable, Liv," he continues. "If you weren't high out of your mind, I would've preferred sharing what felt like a very plush bed."

She fails miserably at trying not to blush.

"I'm gonna take a shower," she tells him, standing. "I'll grab my robe and get your shirt back first so you can get home."

"Liv?"

"Yeah," she answers, pausing her forward movement.

"You can nibble on my ear and grab my ass any time you want."

She shakes her head and hurries to her room stripping out of his shirt and swapping it out for her favorite blue terry cloth robe. Simultaneously he dresses, save for his button-down, when Olivia resurfaces as promised.

"Thanks," Elliot tells her, immediately putting it on.

"Come on El, I slept in that all night," she tells him. "I'm sure I can find an unwrinkled t-shirt big enough for you to wear home."

"It's okay," he says. "The suit jacket covers it and I don't have to be anywhere important," he adds. "Besides, I like the way it smells."

At this point, she won't need rouge on her cheeks. Elliot seems to trigger a renewed blush every time he opens his mouth.

"Well," she begins, awkwardly. "Thank you for keeping an eye on me."

"That's what partners are for," he says. "Look, I know it's a school night and you have to get Noah in a few hours," he begins, "But I was wondering about that date we discussed."

If he was still wearing his old wedding ring when he visited her at SVU a few days ago, she wouldn't have even thought about saying yes. But this time, Olivia believes he's as ready as she finally is.

"I think that can be arranged."

"That's what I'm trying to do…arrange it," Elliot adds, grinning. "How about Friday night?"

It's going to be a long week for Olivia, anticipating their first date and what will likely happen by the end of the evening.

"Friday works."

"7 o'clock?"

"Okay. Fiorello's?"

"I can cook you something better," Elliot promises. "Text you a few options for dishes and wine choices?"

"Judging by that omelet, I'm willing to trust you with dinner," Olivia tells him. "La mia cucina é la tua cucina ."

He grins at her use of Italian.

"I knew you could Mirandize in several languages," Elliot starts. "Didn't know you were fluent."

"I'm not," Olivia admits. "But I've learned a few simple phrases over the years."

"Rolls right off your tongue," he compliments. "I'll uh, see you Friday then."

"See you Friday."

Elliot moves to the front door, seems to remember something, and approaches her, leaning to whisper in her ear.

"If we'd had sex last night," he begins. "Lo sentiresti ancora."

Olivia looks confused but after seeing her former partner's telling smirk, she has a pretty good idea what he said. He palms her face and kisses her then, reminding her of the way he so passionately and thoroughly ravaged her mouth after the interlude in her meditation space. Seemingly, to give her a preview of future attractions. For her part, she puts both arms around him, pulling him closer.

When they inevitably stop to breathe, she's just as wound up as she was all weekend.

But pouncing on him now? Revealing to Elliot just how badly she wants him? Has wanted him for years now? She'd never live it down. On top of that, he'd likely use it to get her naked and writhing in those previously mentioned work-related places or that very plush bed she has down the hall.

"I'll call you," she tells him.

"I'll be waiting."

Elliot manages to keep his hands to himself upon exiting. She doesn't take the ring off for the rest of the day.

E/N: Don't follow or favorite and not review. Writers don't ask for anything else.