Chapter Text
"Olivia's gonna hate this," Elliot Stabler groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face to ward off the oncoming migraine.
"I know," his Captain answered, "But we've got no other choice. You two are the best, and obviously, we can't send anyone else but her."
"Why?" Elliot's question was knee-jerk though he already knew the answer... and already knew just how redundant his question was.
John Munch, in-house cynic and expert on snark, gave him a look over the rims of his glasses. "Because I don't look as appealing in pasties and a G-string."
Elliot, after shooting a look back at Munch, glanced once more up at his Captain. "You're not actually gonna make her wear that, are you?"
"Me?" Cragen's brows lifted. "I'm not going to be making her do anything. It's up to the club owner. I wasn't faxed the dress code policies ahead of time, Detective Stabler."
Elliot groaned again, "She's gonna hate this."
"Hey, at least she's not doing it solo. Alright? We've got Munch and Fin goin' in there. Fin's already secured a position as a new bouncer."
"And Munch?"
Munch pressed his palms into his desk and rose to his feet, heading for the coffee machine as he replied over his shoulder, "I get the pleasure of being one of the creepy guys in the audience just waiting for the pretty girls to toss me a little scrap of affection."
Elliot rolled his eyes. "Great. And where does that leave me?"
"Elliot, you get the honor of acting as a prospective club buyer. And, I think they might've wanted you to act as Olivia's fiance as well."
Elliot chose not to react to that second piece of information. "Please tell me I don't have to be the one to break the news to her. She's gonna hate this."
"Yeah, we've established the obvious disdain she'll have for this particular undercover operation, but don't worry. I'll handle it."
Elliot, who had been letting his chair teeter precariously on two legs, brought it back down full force when he spotted his partner coming through the door. He looked toward his Captain briefly. "Break it to her gently, wouldja? I gotta work with her all day."
*****
"Talk about doing shit work," Olivia Benson grumbled after dumping a generous amount of ketchup onto her greasy diner french fries.
"We'll catch the guy quickly, Liv," Elliot tried to placate her, using her nickname for good measure. It was in vain, though.
"Why do I have to be the one?" Even as she asked it, she knew the answer; and, like her partner, she regretted the redundancy of her question the moment it slid past her lips.
"I don't think Munch could squeeze into one of those outfits as easily. And actually, he might drive away the business, instead of bringing in more like you would."
Olivia flicked her eyes up to Elliot's face, watching him turn his full attention onto the greasy cheeseburger he'd ordered. The only indication he'd been subtly handing her a compliment was in the upward tilt at the corners of his lips. And compliments from her partner, these days, were few and far between. So instead of responding to it, she decided to silently cherish it.
"Will you be there?" she asked him.
"Yep. Hafta be if I'm lookin' into buying the club," he replied, sneaking a fry off her plate and stuffing it in his mouth. When he got a glare, he grinned. "That, and since I'm your fiance..."
"Wait, wait a minute." She folded her arms on the Formica tabletop and leaned on them slightly. "They want you to be my fiance? Isn't that a... conflict of interest?"
"How so?" he questioned carefully, knowing she was one to throw out ambiguous comments, and not wanting to stick his foot in his mouth.
"Well... I mean, since I'm supposedly dancing at this club... don't they have rules against boyfriends and husbands-to-be being allowed in there?"
Elliot shrugged and attempted to steal another fry, this time getting his hand slapped for doing so. He winced, then schooled his features and replied, "Probably. But, since I'm looking into buying the place, and everything..."
"This is quite the little charade Cragen's come up with."
"Nah, it wasn't him. We don't know who came up with it. Might've been one of the other precincts. All we know is the undercover op got handed to us when the girls at the club started reporting sexual assaults. Trouble is, the guy drugs them so they can't seem to remember just who exactly it was. Mighta been a bouncer, mighta been the owner... mighta just been one of their regulars."
"Great."
Elliot smiled at his partner. "Come on, Liv. I know it's not your ideal way to solve a case, but whoever this guy is that's assaulting these girls, don't you wanna be the one to throw his ass in jail? Think about it."
"Of course I want that, Elliot. I'm just not entirely comfortable with the... situation."
Another ambiguous comment. As usual, mental flags went up, warning Elliot to tread carefully. "Okay... why, exactly? Is it what role you're playing in the undercover op?"
"Partly. I'm not all that comfortable with being a decoy... or being forced into giving lap dances to strangers."
"Liv, I'll do my best to keep the lap dances to a minimum, I swear. If you want, I could have you only give lap dances to Munch."
She rolled her eyes. "Elliot, I'm trying very hard to keep my lunch down right now."
He couldn't help but chuckle. "Sorry."
Olivia narrowed her eyes briefly, but couldn't keep the smirk off her face. "No you're not."
"Nah, you're right. I'm not." He leaned back in the booth, noting the stress still slightly evident on her face. "What else? There's gotta be something else about this that's bugging you."
"I'm going to be dressed... provocatively, El. I just... I don't know how comfortable I am with Munch and Fin -- hell, with you! -- seeing me dressed like that."
"You know you've got nothing to worry about with Munch and Fin. And as for me, well... we're supposed to be engaged, Liv. I think it'll raise a few suspicions if, every time you're dancing, I've got my hand over my eyes."
"I know."
"If I'm engaged to you, I've got news for you... I've seen it all by that point," he teased, eyes glittering as he leaned partway across the table, challenging.
Olivia took the challenge and leaned slightly to meet him, inches between them now. "Oh yeah? And what makes you think I'm not making you wait until we're married for you to see everything?"
He balked. "You're a stripper. I got news for ya, babe... the chastity ship has sailed." He nodded toward her plate. "Now you better finish off those fries before I take 'em all."
"You do, and I'll pull my gun."
Elliot just grinned and stole another one, enjoying the banter that, for once in what felt like eons, wasn't strained.
TBC