Title: Vinegar and Honey

Author: mindy35

Rating: K+, URST is all.

Disclaimer: If they were mine they would have way more fun. But they belong to Dick Wolf so they never did.

Spoilers: "Zebras".

Pairing(s): Elliot/Olivia, Elliot/Kathy.

Summary: Post-ep for "Zebras". Elliot questions Olivia about that kiss.

Olivia pulls up to the curb and kills the engine. Apart from a dog barking in the distance, Elliot's neighborhood is quiet. She looks across at him, body slumped against the passenger side window, forehead pressed to the foggy glass and chin cradled by the sagging seatbelt. His mouth hangs open as he snores softly in his drug-induced slumber. As usual, her partner insisted that his wounds were superficial and refused to let the hospital hold him. After treating him, they sent him home with enough pain relief to start his own drug ring and strict instructions to let her drive. Soon after handing over the keys, Elliot dropped off, rousing only occasionally to groan when the car hit a ditch or a bump. Olivia murmured a soft sorry each time and he promptly fell back into unconsciousness.

Now, mindful of the wounds on his upper body, she reaches out, putting a hand on his knee to shake him awake. "Hey. El. Hey…wake up, we're home."

Elliot sucks in a breath, surfacing suddenly. "Huh? Whose home?"

"Your home," she whispers, trying not to smile at the overly capable Elliot Stabler looking all druggy and disoriented. "Come on," she releases her seatbelt and cracks her door, "I'll help you to the door."

Stepping out into the chilly air, she trots around the front of the car and opens his door. Elliot manages to disentangle himself from his seatbelt but when he tries to get to his feet, the drugs rush to his head and he finds himself reaching for her. Olivia grabs his arm, steadies him then helps him exit the vehicle. With careful hands, she guides him so his back is against the sedan, making sure his feet are planted firmly on the ground before releasing him.

"I think you missed your calling," he comments, breathing heavily with the effort to remain upright.

"What, I shoulda been a nurse?" she asks, ducking back into the car to retrieve his jacket and medication.

"No," he says, voice crackly with fatigue and breath misty with cold. "An actress." He watches as she pulls him forward by his wrists then arranges his jacket about his shoulders. "That was some performance you gave tonight."

"Had you goin', huh?"

"Not for a second."

"Uh huh, sure." She eases the car door closed so as not to wake his sleeping family and points to the gutter. "Mind your step." Then Olivia moves to his side, shadowing him up the path, one hand hovering at his elbow ready to catch him if he stumbles.

"Well, maybe you did," he admits, swaying in his shoes. "Just a little. Towards the end."

"Yeah…sorry I had to slap you so hard," she murmurs, adjusting her pace to match his slow, unsteady shuffle.

"I'm…" his head bobs drowsily, "sorry too."

She casts him a sidelong look, brows half raised. "For what?"

"I called you a bitch," he answers after a little pause.

Olivia shakes her head at the path underfoot. "Elliot, I get called that every other day."

"That's why I'm sorry," he mumbles, turning to face her on the cracked concrete. "I know you don't like it, I see your face when people say it."

She opens her mouth, momentarily lost for a response. "I…it's— just a word. You're the one with slashes to your chest and abdomen."

"S'okay," he slurs, rocking on his heels, head tilted back towards the starless night sky. "Right now, I'm not feelin' any pain."

"So the pain meds have kicked in."

"Oh yeah, they gave me the good stuff…"

"I see that," she muses, tone wry as she begins patting the pockets of his jacket.

Elliot looks down, frowning. "What're you doin'?"

"Looking for your keys," she replies, gingerly patting the front pockets of his pants but not going so far as to investigate the back. "Any idea where they are?"

"In my locker at the stationhouse."

"Oh." Her hands immediately retract. "Helpful."

He glances about the front yard. "Should be a spare one out here somewhere…"

She waits for further information but Elliot simply continues to look about the yard like it belongs to someone else and not him. "Could you be a little more specific?"

"I…." he pauses for an overlong time then wags his head, "don't remember."

Olivia rolls her eyes. "God, you're high. Here, sit—" She guides him to the steps and throws his bag of drugs into his lap.

"Try the pot plants," he says as she begins stalking soundlessly about the yard.

"Very original," his partner mutters but follows this advice and begins peering under a cluster of neglected cacti.

"So how much of it was real?" he asks as he oversees her search from the stoop.

"You mean, have I ever wanted to slap you before?" She glances over at him, letting one pot clank back onto its saucer. "Many times."

"Actually," he says, running a hand over his mouth, "I meant the kiss."

Olivia uncovers a key from beneath a small blue pot. "Ah. Bingo."

"I mean…why in hell would you even think to do that?" he mutters, brow crumpling at the memory. "Why kiss the little weasel?"

She heads back to him, dusting dirt off the key. "You know why."

Elliot shrugs then winces at the small movement. "They never taught me to disarm dirtbags that way."

"You ever hear the expression about catching more flies with honey than vinegar?" she asks, head tipped to one side and a small smile twisting her lips.

He searches his not quite functioning brain. "Nope."

"No, well…" she sighs as if this is the reply she should've expected, "you deal mostly in vinegar."

"While you deal in honey?"

"When I gotta." She reaches for him, grunting slightly as she hauls him to his feet. "Girl's gotta do and all that."

"Know what I think?" he says as they turn and take the steps together. "I think you wanted me to watch, you wanted me to see."

"See what?"

"Your hand on his. How your eyes closed, how your lips moved…"

"Well," she hesitates, voice becoming more wary, "like you said – I was acting."

He shakes his groggy head then turns to look at her, huddled close to hold him steady. "You wanted me to see what I was missing out on. You wanted to torture me, make me suffer. And it worked."

Olivia frowns at him a moment then withdraws her support, pushing him back to the wall by the front door, gentle but firm. "I wanted you to survive. That's it."

"Then why'd you kiss him like that?"

"Like what? That's how I kiss."

"That's how you kiss?"

"Yeah, that's…" she turns to the door, shoves the key in the lock and flings it open, "how I kiss."

Elliot shifts onto his feet, sidling infinitesimally closer. "That's…how you kiss…"

"Elliot—"

"I wanna see it again," he says, one hand reaching for her face. "Show me again."

Olivia instantly retreats, batting away his hand before it touches her. "That's…no – definitely the drugs talking."

"No..." His hand lifts back to her face, this time making contact, his eyes dropping to her mouth. "Show me. Show me how you kiss."

"Hey—" she says firmly, both hands lifting between them but stopping short of touching his wounded body. "Listen to me."

His palm slides around under her hair to cup her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek. His eyes remain fixed on her lips. "…I am."

"Look at me," she says, voice hitching slightly.

"I am," he whispers, eyes lifting to hers. "I'm…looking, Liv…"

Her eyes hold his, wide and dark and desperate. Her hand clamps around his forearm but his refuses to dislodge. "You need to go inside to your family now. Okay? You need to sleep this off and just…forget…all about tonight."

"I'm not gonna forget," he tells her, hand sweeping forward, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of her neck. "I'll never…" His voice trails off as his eyes watch his thumb graze her lower lip with the lightest of touches.

Olivia takes a breath. But Kathy interrupts her:

"Elliot?"

His partner steps back into the darkened frame of the Stabler's doorway. "He's here. He's fine, just a little woozy." She grabs his elbow, turns him in the right direction and shoves him over the threshold. "Go to your wife."

Kathy is descending the stairs in her nightgown, face creased with concern. "Hey. You okay?"

Elliot holds up two hands, warding off her touch. "Watch the chest."

Kathy turns to thank his partner for his safe delivery but she's already heading down the steps and back to the car. Olivia pulls in a breath as she strides down the path, head bowed and the back of her hand pressed to her mouth.

"What were you talking about?" she hears Kathy Stabler ask her husband.

"Honey," Elliot answers.

"Honey?"

"She's honey. I'm vinegar."

"Okay…" his wife murmurs indulgently.

A moment later, Olivia hears the door to their house close and lock. Reaching the sedan, she gazes back over the hood at the shut door, at the cosy house and neglected yard. A light comes on upstairs and a baby begins to cry. The same dog is barking. Olivia opens the car door, slides into her seat and doesn't hesitate before starting the engine and driving away.

END.