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Someone Like You
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 3523
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 25: Concealed
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 24, Stitches:
An angry mother got stabby with Elliot. No major damage, but Elliot was uncomfortable that it was Kathy who came racing to the hospital to be with him.
On the drive to Toby's, Elliot was stoned, and he and Olivia both got talkative. Stoned Elliot was docile and affectionate and rather pleasant company for Toby and Holly.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The pain meds had definitely worn off in the morning.
"Elliot, what are you doing?"
Stupid question: it was perfectly obvious what Elliot was doing. He was being an idiot. He gritted his jaw as he reached to pull his shirt over his shoulder. "Getting dressed."
"Are you in a rush to get somewhere?"
"I'm not an invalid," he growled.
"You would have been better off waiting until these had kicked in." Toby offered a glass and the pill bottle, but Elliot waved them off.
"Stop fussing. Tylenol will be fine. I hate how I feel on those things."
"You felt great on these things last night, and you were a lot more fun."
Elliot shot him a dark look, and reached for his pants.
Toby tugged them out of reach, and then knelt to help Elliot into them. "You know there's no prize for being in pain, right? Doesn't make you a better cop, and it isn't especially sexy."
"Aren't you late for work?"
"I told Emilio I'd be in late." He'd gotten up to have breakfast with Holly, and come back to find Elliot being heroic. It was irritating, but it wasn't a surprise.
"I need to go home anyway. I told Kathy to tell the kids to let me sleep, but I can pretty much guarantee Maureen or Kathleen will drop by in the afternoon."
"That's four hours away. Plenty of time to float on some painkillers and let the stitches do their work. Holly won't mind the company. You'll be back to throwing yourself in front of knife-wielding lunatics that much sooner."
Elliot let himself accept Toby's hand to stand up, and then helped himself to the Tylenol in the kitchen cabinet and eased himself to sit at the dining table. Holly had been watching cartoons, but now she turned and stared unashamedly at Elliot.
Elliot stared back. "How was your family vacation?"
She shrugged. "It was just Gran's."
"How was the hot dog eating competition?"
"Gross. One of the women puked everywhere."
Toby made them both toast rather than giving him a chance to refuse it. Elliot hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday, if he'd even eaten then. Elliot took the coffee Toby passed him with more grace than he'd taken anything else, took a sip and his whole face changed. "Wow. Where'd this come from?"
Toby nodded towards the kitchen. "I have a machine."
"I don't remember you serving this the last time I..." He cut himself off and looked at Holly.
Holly rolled her eyes and went back to watching TV. Or at least pretended.
"I was out of beans that day. If your daughters see how much pain you're in, they might decide to stay and look after you."
"No, they won't." He bit his toast, chewed and swallowed. "Maureen might."
Toby hoped she would. He suspected it was hard for Elliot, seeing how close Toby was with Holly, but there wasn't a kind way to tell him he should remember how they got there, or remember the yawning chasm between Toby and Harry, and be grateful.
Toby made another batch of toast, and they talked about hospitals and insurance paperwork until Holly got bored and wandered back to her room. As soon as the door shut, Elliot said, "Kathy came to the hospital yesterday. Cragen called her." He made it sound like a confession.
"That's good. How is she?"
Elliot pushed his plate away. "That doesn't bother you?"
"Should it?" Toby hadn't been able to make it there, so he was glad someone had.
Elliot stared at Toby like he was stupid. "It would bother the hell out of me if you were hurt and nobody called me."
"You called. You told me not to come. I imagine Olivia would have called me if it was serious."
"That's good enough for you?"
Toby felt like he'd missed half the conversation. "What is it you want? I'm sure you don't want me hanging around the hospital like a worried lover."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"That the staff of Mercy General and the NYPD don't know we're fucking? No, Elliot, it doesn't bother me." Toby wasn't sure he'd be so practical if he had to wait on serious news, but he'd straddle that bridge if he came to it. At least he knew now what was up Elliot's ass this morning, and for once, it was easily solved. "I don't give a damn if your colleagues know about me."
"I never had to hide Kathy like some kind of shameful secret."
"Yeah, well Elliot, I'm a whole different ballgame."
Elliot's shoulder's hunched. "I'm not ashamed of you."
Toby felt his eyes rolling, couldn't help it. "I never said you were." Toby was sure he was, but he was also sure that was far down the list of reasons why Elliot didn't need Toby anywhere near his job. "You admitted you lose it any time someone pokes into your private life. Did you announce it to the station when you and Kathy separated?"
The 'no' was written all over his face.
"You're not even ready to tell your family about me, so what makes you think I expect you to be waving a pride flag at work?"
Shame flashed across Elliot's face, and Toby could have kicked himself. He didn't especially want Elliot coming out to his family, either. Hey, kids, here's my fucked-up ex-con lover. Let's play happy families. But if that happened, it happened. From what Toby had gathered, they were a strong enough family to weather it. Life as a cop was something else. "You come out at work and everybody's going to be watching you, talking about you behind your back. Everything you do will suddenly be measured through some gay filter. Defence attorneys will make a deal out of it when they cross-examine you. And it's not some hellish phase you'll get through, like the divorce. Even if you go back to women, it's going to cling to you for the rest of your career."
"Christ, Toby."
"And that's just me being a man. Wait until they find out I'm an ex-con. Have you thought all that through?" Toby had. "There are a lot of reasons why people stay in the closet, and it's not just shame."
Elliot looked ill. "Is that what happened to you?"
"I was a bitch. Being a fag was an anti-climax, on the social order."
Elliot flinched at the words as if he didn't hear them every day from street scum and probably from cops too. "You're telling me I should keep my mouth shut?"
Toby didn't want the responsibility. "I'm saying don't think you'd be doing it for me. Your job is stressful and isolating enough without adding the sly comments. Do you really want to deal with that on top of everything else? I don't want you to have to deal with it, either, so stop beating yourself up over it. I'm saying if you want to tell someone, you do it because it's what you want. And you need to make damned sure you're ready for it, because you can't put that genie back in the bottle."
"I'm not ashamed of you," Elliot said quietly, as if that's all it came down to.
"I know. You said." Toby sighed, determined to be done with this. "Are you losing sleep over whether I've confided in Emilio?"
"Why would I give a damn about your thick-headed boss? Being a parolee's enough of a spanner in the resume without..." Elliot trailed off.
Toby folded his arms, knowing the smugness was written across his face. He wished he'd made that argument ten minutes ago.
"You really don't care."
"I really don't care." Toby dragged his chair around and sat beside him. "It takes time to figure things out. You don't know who you are right now. You know you like touching my cock, but you don't know what that means. You don't know what you're going to want a year from now. You should be glad you get to sort it out in private. I did all my floundering in a fish bowl surrounded by psychopaths, in the shadow of the man who raped me. Stop with all the noble shit and count yourself lucky." Toby could see Elliot was picking through trying to decide how to ask about how Toby adjusted, dig for more about Chris, so he stood up. "Don't look at me for advice. I'm still figuring myself out." He gathered up the plates. "And take your painkillers home with you. I'm an addict."
Reminding Elliot of that seemed like the least he could do.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot was glad he'd gone home when he did. He'd forgotten how hard it was to rummage through drawers without bending or twisting, and he'd barely re-packed his bag when everyone showed up, even Kathy, loaded down with bags of take out.
"I wasn't expecting a party."
Kathy just cocked an eyebrow as she swept past into the kitchen. "I wasn't sure you'd have anything in the fridge." She opened the fridge door, and was surprised to see Elliot had his own tupperware, full of real food. Half of it from Toby, of course.
Elliot slumped in the doorway, rubbing the fingers on his injured hand to ease the ache. "Surprised to find out I'm a grown man who can look after himself?"
"I didn't mean it like that, El."
"I know. I'm teasing." A few years ago, Elliot never would have had to explain that, but with all the bitter blood in the meantime...
Kathy nodded, a wry smile.
He felt a wave of affection, and guilt crept in after. That was what had really gotten to him this morning. It wasn't about work. Toby really didn't care that Kathy had been the one who got the call? Even if he understood, even if he wanted Elliot deep in the closet, he should have cared that Elliot's ex-wife was there in the hospital instead of him. Elliot would have been simmering if Toby had been hurt, and Chris had gone to comfort him.
"Dad, can I see your stitches?"
He pulled Elizabeth into a careful hug against his side. "Sorry. All bandaged up." He lifted his shirt so she could see, glad she couldn't tell it hurt like a motherfucker.
"Did you get the guy?"
"Olivia got her."
"Olivia's cool."
"Yeah, she is."
Lizzie would hate Elliot dating anyone who wasn't Kathy. She'd cried the hardest when Elliot moved out. He couldn't begin to imagine what she'd say about it being a man. He was pretty sure Kathy would be the most confounded of all of them, after Elliot himself.
Elliot turned to see the kids spreading the take out containers around the table. He'd tried to raise them all to be tolerant, but Dickie was loose in the petty, misogynistic world of junior high boys. Kathleen took exception to everything Elliot said or did these days, would probably find fault if he won the lottery and bought them all East Side apartments. Maybe not - things had been better lately. Since Toby. The idea of throwing a wrench in that made him tired.
Maureen? Maybe. He blinked as he looked at her. "Did you get a hair cut?"
She laughed. "A month ago, Dad." She looked like a woman, and not just in that disturbing, 'when did my kids hit puberty?' kind of way - he was used to that - but like an actual adult.
He believed Toby honestly didn't care if Elliot told people at work, and that was a relief, but it was a cop-out, too. Of course Elliot had thought through the consequences. He had all of Toby's imagination, and he had eighteen years on the job to see the worst of the old-boy crap the force had to offer. The thing was, he could handle outright bigots - maybe not in a force-proscribed manner, but he'd handle them. It was the petty fears that sat like a rock in his gut. He was more afraid of friends asking if he was gay now. He'd always thought people were being precious when they got snitty about labels - after all, Elliot called himself straight, and what was wrong with that? But now what Toby said was right: he liked touching Toby's cock, but he didn't know what that meant. He hadn't found himself checking out Munch's ass, so was he gay?
And then there was the threat of people questioning his objectivity on the job the way they questioned Olivia's sometimes. Or the way Finn's was questioned when the victim was an ethnic minority. It was funny how being a straight white man made everyone think you were objective.
Lizzie was reaching up for plates and seemed to be in serious danger of bringing them down on her head, so he stepped up and took over, grunting as the twist pulled at his stitches.
Kathy pulled them out of his hands. "Just take some damn pain pills, would you?"
"I'm fine."
Kathleen slipped past him and filled her hands full of silverware and napkins, nudging her sisters aside to set places, teasing Dickie for wearing the same shirt two days in a row.
Family was different. He didn't want to make up excuses why his kids shouldn't visit him when he was secretly not home. He wanted them to know he was in a good mood because Toby took care of him last night. He wanted his own kids to hang out with him and Toby like it was no big deal, like Holly did. There was no question he was going to tell them. He'd do it soon. But if Toby wasn't rushing him, then not just yet.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot tossed his jacket towards a chair, not seeming to care that it missed, and caught Toby up against the counter. He rubbed his jaw along Toby's like a cat marking property. "That's not the kind of hungry I am right now."
Toby chuckled, working Elliot's tie loose. "Being back on active duty put you in a good mood."
"Being okayed for physical activity put me in a good mood." He gave a wicked smile and dove in for a kiss that promised all sorts of dirty things, very soon.
"Tired of jerking off left-handed?"
"It feels weird."
A knock on the door stopped them both, and Toby's gut knotted.
Elliot pressed their foreheads together. "Expecting someone?"
"No." Which meant there was a good chance it was the last person Toby wanted here right now. He went to the peephole and swore under his breath. Of all the times to show up... For a moment, he entertained the idea of sending Elliot down the fire escape. He probably wouldn't get much cooperation on that. Instead he checked back over his shoulder to see Elliot looking wide-eyed as he picked up his jacket, not ready to be sprung making out no matter who it was. Toby motioned for him to fix his clothes so he'd at least look like a professional, and raised a finger in warning for him to stay calm.
"Stalin?" Elliot mouthed.
Toby nodded, and waited the extra minute it took for Elliot to push his tie in place and swing his jacket back on.
He opened the door. "Officer."
"Beecher. Violated any conditions lately?"
"No, sir."
No sir, yes sir. Toby didn't want Elliot to see him like this, playing bitch to yet another vindictive bully. Only this time the bully was half his age and wearing a badge, wielding more power than Vern could have wished for.
"You're an obsequious shit, Beecher. Hope you mind if I poke around."
Toby stepped back and motioned him in, watched his eyes narrow as they fell on Elliot.
"Hello. Who do we have here?"
"Just a friend."
"Criminal?"
Elliot snorted, and Toby glared at him. He needed Elliot not to be a macho prick for half an hour. "No."
Starling dragged his fingers over Toby's shelves and rummaged as he pleased. "Does your friend know you're a drunk junkie fuck-up who kills little girls?"
"He knows. Look around all you want, there's nothing to find."
Elliot loomed like an angry strip club bouncer, but was mercifully silent.
"There's always something to find, Beecher. Done any drugs lately?"
"No."
"Trafficked any drugs lately?"
"No." Was he going to trawl through Toby's entire record for Elliot's benefit?
"Stabbed anyone lately?"
"No." Toby stole a glance at Elliot, but his face was a hard mask for the back of the officer now emptying Toby's kitchen cupboards.
"Killed anyone?"
"No."
"Telling the truth?"
"N- Yes."
Starling stood back with a malicious smile. "That was a trick question. You're paying attention." He looked Elliot over again as he headed for the bedroom. Elliot was good enough to hang back out of sight as Starling shone a flashlight under the bed, and then poked through drawers at random, smirking as he tipped the drawer with the condoms and lube across the floor. "You're a dirty fuck."
Toby bit back his retort.
"What's this?"
Toby realised what he'd found a moment before Starling dragged the plastic bag from the back of his t-shirt drawer. He felt sick as Starling poked inside and looked up, amused and disgusted, pulling out the red dress Toby used to wear to Franco's, fishing out the smaller make up bag. The humiliation Toby used to savour on his knees in urine-stained cubicles didn't taste so good here with Stalin, with Elliot just out of view. Elliot. Toby prayed desperately that Starling would keep quiet, that Elliot would stay put, that he could keep this much contained.
Starling poked around in the make up bag, pulled out a lipstick. "You really are a twisted bitch, aren't you? You want to make yourself pretty for me, Beecher?"
"No, sir." No sir, Mr Schillinger. Please may I fuck my wife, sir. Please let me sing you a song at talent night, sir. Toby's face burned and his gut burned, but he forced his hands to stay open, forced his jaw not to clench. He wasn't going to let this prick make him an animal. Not in his home, not in front of Elliot. He had to stay calm for Holly's sake.
Toby's underwear was thrown across the floor, law books were dumped off the shelf, and then Stalin strolled back out to eye off with Elliot again, was opening Holly's door when he paused and took a longer look. He let go of the handle and faced Elliot, stance wide. "You got a licence for that concealed weapon?"
Shit. Elliot had his ankle piece.
Elliot didn't flinch. He showed his hands as he opened his jacket and pulled out his ID. "Senior Detective Elliot Stabler. NYPD."
Starling's eyes lit, and he smiled at Elliot. "Being in contact with a law enforcement agency without notifying me constitutes a violation of your parole, Beecher."
"Mr Beecher isn't under investigation. He provided us with assistance on a case some months ago, and I was just stopping by to check in."
"I notified Luke at the time," said Toby, but no one was listening.
"What kind of case?"
Elliot's smile was dangerous. Toby felt like an antelope caught between two lions. "The case is closed, now. Mr Beecher was extremely helpful. We may have need of him again."
Starling watched him thoughtfully, Toby forgotten. "Which precinct?"
"Sixteenth."
So Toby was in favour with the NYPD, maybe even their informant, and not to be messed with. Toby could have kissed Elliot's face.
Starling nodded. "All right." He turned to Toby. "Thank you for your time."
He let himself out, leaving Toby gaping. Stalin just thanked him? Toby slumped back against the wall, adrenaline fade making him dizzy.
"Wow," Elliot said quietly. "Law enforcement officers can be assholes."
Toby snorted, but he couldn't bring himself to meet Elliot's eyes, even as Elliot moved closer.
"Toby, you've got to be a little impressed that I didn't hit him."
"I am. Thank you." Toby was never going to leave it behind. Vern was dead, Oz was hours away and Toby was still bent over, waiting for whatever assfucking came next.
Elliot took his shoulders. "If you believe for a second I think less of you after watching you hold your temper as that jerk trampled over your life, you don't know me at all."
"I don't want you to see me that way."
"I don't see you that way."
Toby lifted his chin. Of course Elliot didn't. He was a sensitive, new age, sex crimes detective. "I'm very impressed you didn't hit him." He started loosening Elliot's tie again. "I'm going to reward you with a blow job that'll leave a smile on your face for days." Maybe with the added bonus of distracting Elliot before he could ask what Stalin meant about drug trafficking and stabbing and killing people.
"Toby?"
"I'm okay. I want to get back to taking advantage of your newly-healed state."
Elliot relented and let Toby kiss him
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 25
Feedback provides all the nutrients a growing squid needs. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured. Here or at drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 3523
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 25: Concealed
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 24, Stitches:
An angry mother got stabby with Elliot. No major damage, but Elliot was uncomfortable that it was Kathy who came racing to the hospital to be with him.
On the drive to Toby's, Elliot was stoned, and he and Olivia both got talkative. Stoned Elliot was docile and affectionate and rather pleasant company for Toby and Holly.
The pain meds had definitely worn off in the morning.
"Elliot, what are you doing?"
Stupid question: it was perfectly obvious what Elliot was doing. He was being an idiot. He gritted his jaw as he reached to pull his shirt over his shoulder. "Getting dressed."
"Are you in a rush to get somewhere?"
"I'm not an invalid," he growled.
"You would have been better off waiting until these had kicked in." Toby offered a glass and the pill bottle, but Elliot waved them off.
"Stop fussing. Tylenol will be fine. I hate how I feel on those things."
"You felt great on these things last night, and you were a lot more fun."
Elliot shot him a dark look, and reached for his pants.
Toby tugged them out of reach, and then knelt to help Elliot into them. "You know there's no prize for being in pain, right? Doesn't make you a better cop, and it isn't especially sexy."
"Aren't you late for work?"
"I told Emilio I'd be in late." He'd gotten up to have breakfast with Holly, and come back to find Elliot being heroic. It was irritating, but it wasn't a surprise.
"I need to go home anyway. I told Kathy to tell the kids to let me sleep, but I can pretty much guarantee Maureen or Kathleen will drop by in the afternoon."
"That's four hours away. Plenty of time to float on some painkillers and let the stitches do their work. Holly won't mind the company. You'll be back to throwing yourself in front of knife-wielding lunatics that much sooner."
Elliot let himself accept Toby's hand to stand up, and then helped himself to the Tylenol in the kitchen cabinet and eased himself to sit at the dining table. Holly had been watching cartoons, but now she turned and stared unashamedly at Elliot.
Elliot stared back. "How was your family vacation?"
She shrugged. "It was just Gran's."
"How was the hot dog eating competition?"
"Gross. One of the women puked everywhere."
Toby made them both toast rather than giving him a chance to refuse it. Elliot hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday, if he'd even eaten then. Elliot took the coffee Toby passed him with more grace than he'd taken anything else, took a sip and his whole face changed. "Wow. Where'd this come from?"
Toby nodded towards the kitchen. "I have a machine."
"I don't remember you serving this the last time I..." He cut himself off and looked at Holly.
Holly rolled her eyes and went back to watching TV. Or at least pretended.
"I was out of beans that day. If your daughters see how much pain you're in, they might decide to stay and look after you."
"No, they won't." He bit his toast, chewed and swallowed. "Maureen might."
Toby hoped she would. He suspected it was hard for Elliot, seeing how close Toby was with Holly, but there wasn't a kind way to tell him he should remember how they got there, or remember the yawning chasm between Toby and Harry, and be grateful.
Toby made another batch of toast, and they talked about hospitals and insurance paperwork until Holly got bored and wandered back to her room. As soon as the door shut, Elliot said, "Kathy came to the hospital yesterday. Cragen called her." He made it sound like a confession.
"That's good. How is she?"
Elliot pushed his plate away. "That doesn't bother you?"
"Should it?" Toby hadn't been able to make it there, so he was glad someone had.
Elliot stared at Toby like he was stupid. "It would bother the hell out of me if you were hurt and nobody called me."
"You called. You told me not to come. I imagine Olivia would have called me if it was serious."
"That's good enough for you?"
Toby felt like he'd missed half the conversation. "What is it you want? I'm sure you don't want me hanging around the hospital like a worried lover."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"That the staff of Mercy General and the NYPD don't know we're fucking? No, Elliot, it doesn't bother me." Toby wasn't sure he'd be so practical if he had to wait on serious news, but he'd straddle that bridge if he came to it. At least he knew now what was up Elliot's ass this morning, and for once, it was easily solved. "I don't give a damn if your colleagues know about me."
"I never had to hide Kathy like some kind of shameful secret."
"Yeah, well Elliot, I'm a whole different ballgame."
Elliot's shoulder's hunched. "I'm not ashamed of you."
Toby felt his eyes rolling, couldn't help it. "I never said you were." Toby was sure he was, but he was also sure that was far down the list of reasons why Elliot didn't need Toby anywhere near his job. "You admitted you lose it any time someone pokes into your private life. Did you announce it to the station when you and Kathy separated?"
The 'no' was written all over his face.
"You're not even ready to tell your family about me, so what makes you think I expect you to be waving a pride flag at work?"
Shame flashed across Elliot's face, and Toby could have kicked himself. He didn't especially want Elliot coming out to his family, either. Hey, kids, here's my fucked-up ex-con lover. Let's play happy families. But if that happened, it happened. From what Toby had gathered, they were a strong enough family to weather it. Life as a cop was something else. "You come out at work and everybody's going to be watching you, talking about you behind your back. Everything you do will suddenly be measured through some gay filter. Defence attorneys will make a deal out of it when they cross-examine you. And it's not some hellish phase you'll get through, like the divorce. Even if you go back to women, it's going to cling to you for the rest of your career."
"Christ, Toby."
"And that's just me being a man. Wait until they find out I'm an ex-con. Have you thought all that through?" Toby had. "There are a lot of reasons why people stay in the closet, and it's not just shame."
Elliot looked ill. "Is that what happened to you?"
"I was a bitch. Being a fag was an anti-climax, on the social order."
Elliot flinched at the words as if he didn't hear them every day from street scum and probably from cops too. "You're telling me I should keep my mouth shut?"
Toby didn't want the responsibility. "I'm saying don't think you'd be doing it for me. Your job is stressful and isolating enough without adding the sly comments. Do you really want to deal with that on top of everything else? I don't want you to have to deal with it, either, so stop beating yourself up over it. I'm saying if you want to tell someone, you do it because it's what you want. And you need to make damned sure you're ready for it, because you can't put that genie back in the bottle."
"I'm not ashamed of you," Elliot said quietly, as if that's all it came down to.
"I know. You said." Toby sighed, determined to be done with this. "Are you losing sleep over whether I've confided in Emilio?"
"Why would I give a damn about your thick-headed boss? Being a parolee's enough of a spanner in the resume without..." Elliot trailed off.
Toby folded his arms, knowing the smugness was written across his face. He wished he'd made that argument ten minutes ago.
"You really don't care."
"I really don't care." Toby dragged his chair around and sat beside him. "It takes time to figure things out. You don't know who you are right now. You know you like touching my cock, but you don't know what that means. You don't know what you're going to want a year from now. You should be glad you get to sort it out in private. I did all my floundering in a fish bowl surrounded by psychopaths, in the shadow of the man who raped me. Stop with all the noble shit and count yourself lucky." Toby could see Elliot was picking through trying to decide how to ask about how Toby adjusted, dig for more about Chris, so he stood up. "Don't look at me for advice. I'm still figuring myself out." He gathered up the plates. "And take your painkillers home with you. I'm an addict."
Reminding Elliot of that seemed like the least he could do.
Elliot was glad he'd gone home when he did. He'd forgotten how hard it was to rummage through drawers without bending or twisting, and he'd barely re-packed his bag when everyone showed up, even Kathy, loaded down with bags of take out.
"I wasn't expecting a party."
Kathy just cocked an eyebrow as she swept past into the kitchen. "I wasn't sure you'd have anything in the fridge." She opened the fridge door, and was surprised to see Elliot had his own tupperware, full of real food. Half of it from Toby, of course.
Elliot slumped in the doorway, rubbing the fingers on his injured hand to ease the ache. "Surprised to find out I'm a grown man who can look after himself?"
"I didn't mean it like that, El."
"I know. I'm teasing." A few years ago, Elliot never would have had to explain that, but with all the bitter blood in the meantime...
Kathy nodded, a wry smile.
He felt a wave of affection, and guilt crept in after. That was what had really gotten to him this morning. It wasn't about work. Toby really didn't care that Kathy had been the one who got the call? Even if he understood, even if he wanted Elliot deep in the closet, he should have cared that Elliot's ex-wife was there in the hospital instead of him. Elliot would have been simmering if Toby had been hurt, and Chris had gone to comfort him.
"Dad, can I see your stitches?"
He pulled Elizabeth into a careful hug against his side. "Sorry. All bandaged up." He lifted his shirt so she could see, glad she couldn't tell it hurt like a motherfucker.
"Did you get the guy?"
"Olivia got her."
"Olivia's cool."
"Yeah, she is."
Lizzie would hate Elliot dating anyone who wasn't Kathy. She'd cried the hardest when Elliot moved out. He couldn't begin to imagine what she'd say about it being a man. He was pretty sure Kathy would be the most confounded of all of them, after Elliot himself.
Elliot turned to see the kids spreading the take out containers around the table. He'd tried to raise them all to be tolerant, but Dickie was loose in the petty, misogynistic world of junior high boys. Kathleen took exception to everything Elliot said or did these days, would probably find fault if he won the lottery and bought them all East Side apartments. Maybe not - things had been better lately. Since Toby. The idea of throwing a wrench in that made him tired.
Maureen? Maybe. He blinked as he looked at her. "Did you get a hair cut?"
She laughed. "A month ago, Dad." She looked like a woman, and not just in that disturbing, 'when did my kids hit puberty?' kind of way - he was used to that - but like an actual adult.
He believed Toby honestly didn't care if Elliot told people at work, and that was a relief, but it was a cop-out, too. Of course Elliot had thought through the consequences. He had all of Toby's imagination, and he had eighteen years on the job to see the worst of the old-boy crap the force had to offer. The thing was, he could handle outright bigots - maybe not in a force-proscribed manner, but he'd handle them. It was the petty fears that sat like a rock in his gut. He was more afraid of friends asking if he was gay now. He'd always thought people were being precious when they got snitty about labels - after all, Elliot called himself straight, and what was wrong with that? But now what Toby said was right: he liked touching Toby's cock, but he didn't know what that meant. He hadn't found himself checking out Munch's ass, so was he gay?
And then there was the threat of people questioning his objectivity on the job the way they questioned Olivia's sometimes. Or the way Finn's was questioned when the victim was an ethnic minority. It was funny how being a straight white man made everyone think you were objective.
Lizzie was reaching up for plates and seemed to be in serious danger of bringing them down on her head, so he stepped up and took over, grunting as the twist pulled at his stitches.
Kathy pulled them out of his hands. "Just take some damn pain pills, would you?"
"I'm fine."
Kathleen slipped past him and filled her hands full of silverware and napkins, nudging her sisters aside to set places, teasing Dickie for wearing the same shirt two days in a row.
Family was different. He didn't want to make up excuses why his kids shouldn't visit him when he was secretly not home. He wanted them to know he was in a good mood because Toby took care of him last night. He wanted his own kids to hang out with him and Toby like it was no big deal, like Holly did. There was no question he was going to tell them. He'd do it soon. But if Toby wasn't rushing him, then not just yet.
Elliot tossed his jacket towards a chair, not seeming to care that it missed, and caught Toby up against the counter. He rubbed his jaw along Toby's like a cat marking property. "That's not the kind of hungry I am right now."
Toby chuckled, working Elliot's tie loose. "Being back on active duty put you in a good mood."
"Being okayed for physical activity put me in a good mood." He gave a wicked smile and dove in for a kiss that promised all sorts of dirty things, very soon.
"Tired of jerking off left-handed?"
"It feels weird."
A knock on the door stopped them both, and Toby's gut knotted.
Elliot pressed their foreheads together. "Expecting someone?"
"No." Which meant there was a good chance it was the last person Toby wanted here right now. He went to the peephole and swore under his breath. Of all the times to show up... For a moment, he entertained the idea of sending Elliot down the fire escape. He probably wouldn't get much cooperation on that. Instead he checked back over his shoulder to see Elliot looking wide-eyed as he picked up his jacket, not ready to be sprung making out no matter who it was. Toby motioned for him to fix his clothes so he'd at least look like a professional, and raised a finger in warning for him to stay calm.
"Stalin?" Elliot mouthed.
Toby nodded, and waited the extra minute it took for Elliot to push his tie in place and swing his jacket back on.
He opened the door. "Officer."
"Beecher. Violated any conditions lately?"
"No, sir."
No sir, yes sir. Toby didn't want Elliot to see him like this, playing bitch to yet another vindictive bully. Only this time the bully was half his age and wearing a badge, wielding more power than Vern could have wished for.
"You're an obsequious shit, Beecher. Hope you mind if I poke around."
Toby stepped back and motioned him in, watched his eyes narrow as they fell on Elliot.
"Hello. Who do we have here?"
"Just a friend."
"Criminal?"
Elliot snorted, and Toby glared at him. He needed Elliot not to be a macho prick for half an hour. "No."
Starling dragged his fingers over Toby's shelves and rummaged as he pleased. "Does your friend know you're a drunk junkie fuck-up who kills little girls?"
"He knows. Look around all you want, there's nothing to find."
Elliot loomed like an angry strip club bouncer, but was mercifully silent.
"There's always something to find, Beecher. Done any drugs lately?"
"No."
"Trafficked any drugs lately?"
"No." Was he going to trawl through Toby's entire record for Elliot's benefit?
"Stabbed anyone lately?"
"No." Toby stole a glance at Elliot, but his face was a hard mask for the back of the officer now emptying Toby's kitchen cupboards.
"Killed anyone?"
"No."
"Telling the truth?"
"N- Yes."
Starling stood back with a malicious smile. "That was a trick question. You're paying attention." He looked Elliot over again as he headed for the bedroom. Elliot was good enough to hang back out of sight as Starling shone a flashlight under the bed, and then poked through drawers at random, smirking as he tipped the drawer with the condoms and lube across the floor. "You're a dirty fuck."
Toby bit back his retort.
"What's this?"
Toby realised what he'd found a moment before Starling dragged the plastic bag from the back of his t-shirt drawer. He felt sick as Starling poked inside and looked up, amused and disgusted, pulling out the red dress Toby used to wear to Franco's, fishing out the smaller make up bag. The humiliation Toby used to savour on his knees in urine-stained cubicles didn't taste so good here with Stalin, with Elliot just out of view. Elliot. Toby prayed desperately that Starling would keep quiet, that Elliot would stay put, that he could keep this much contained.
Starling poked around in the make up bag, pulled out a lipstick. "You really are a twisted bitch, aren't you? You want to make yourself pretty for me, Beecher?"
"No, sir." No sir, Mr Schillinger. Please may I fuck my wife, sir. Please let me sing you a song at talent night, sir. Toby's face burned and his gut burned, but he forced his hands to stay open, forced his jaw not to clench. He wasn't going to let this prick make him an animal. Not in his home, not in front of Elliot. He had to stay calm for Holly's sake.
Toby's underwear was thrown across the floor, law books were dumped off the shelf, and then Stalin strolled back out to eye off with Elliot again, was opening Holly's door when he paused and took a longer look. He let go of the handle and faced Elliot, stance wide. "You got a licence for that concealed weapon?"
Shit. Elliot had his ankle piece.
Elliot didn't flinch. He showed his hands as he opened his jacket and pulled out his ID. "Senior Detective Elliot Stabler. NYPD."
Starling's eyes lit, and he smiled at Elliot. "Being in contact with a law enforcement agency without notifying me constitutes a violation of your parole, Beecher."
"Mr Beecher isn't under investigation. He provided us with assistance on a case some months ago, and I was just stopping by to check in."
"I notified Luke at the time," said Toby, but no one was listening.
"What kind of case?"
Elliot's smile was dangerous. Toby felt like an antelope caught between two lions. "The case is closed, now. Mr Beecher was extremely helpful. We may have need of him again."
Starling watched him thoughtfully, Toby forgotten. "Which precinct?"
"Sixteenth."
So Toby was in favour with the NYPD, maybe even their informant, and not to be messed with. Toby could have kissed Elliot's face.
Starling nodded. "All right." He turned to Toby. "Thank you for your time."
He let himself out, leaving Toby gaping. Stalin just thanked him? Toby slumped back against the wall, adrenaline fade making him dizzy.
"Wow," Elliot said quietly. "Law enforcement officers can be assholes."
Toby snorted, but he couldn't bring himself to meet Elliot's eyes, even as Elliot moved closer.
"Toby, you've got to be a little impressed that I didn't hit him."
"I am. Thank you." Toby was never going to leave it behind. Vern was dead, Oz was hours away and Toby was still bent over, waiting for whatever assfucking came next.
Elliot took his shoulders. "If you believe for a second I think less of you after watching you hold your temper as that jerk trampled over your life, you don't know me at all."
"I don't want you to see me that way."
"I don't see you that way."
Toby lifted his chin. Of course Elliot didn't. He was a sensitive, new age, sex crimes detective. "I'm very impressed you didn't hit him." He started loosening Elliot's tie again. "I'm going to reward you with a blow job that'll leave a smile on your face for days." Maybe with the added bonus of distracting Elliot before he could ask what Stalin meant about drug trafficking and stabbing and killing people.
"Toby?"
"I'm okay. I want to get back to taking advantage of your newly-healed state."
Elliot relented and let Toby kiss him
end chapter 25
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S.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-07 03:03 pm (UTC)UNTILDUNDUNDUNNNNN
Sincerely,
Exasperated
no subject
Date: 2014-12-09 06:09 am (UTC)See, Elliot isn't always a grumpy tempestuous prick. He can be very protective. It is definitely one of his more attractive qualities.
Though to be fair, he's usually a grumpy tempestuous prick because he's being protective.
Thanks, Exasperated!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-07 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-09 06:19 am (UTC)Thanks maze!
S.
Screw Stalin!
Date: 2014-12-08 02:15 am (UTC)Re: Screw Stalin!
Date: 2014-12-09 06:21 am (UTC)Who doesn't like a protective Elliot?
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-08 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-09 06:22 am (UTC)Elliot gets a gold star sticker every day he doesn't hit someone. :-)
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-08 11:33 pm (UTC)YO SISTA (OR BRO)!
Loved Elliot's quick thinking in jumping on a opportunity to subtly get Stalin to back off, so well done! I'd never have thought of the informant thing as way to give Toby some jizz :)
no subject
Date: 2014-12-09 06:26 am (UTC)Thanks, iskra!
Poor Toby: he's always somebody's property, but sometimes it works for him.
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-09 02:15 am (UTC)LOLOL! Spoken like a straight white male.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-09 06:35 am (UTC)A black eye would have been very satisfying, but might have been complicated in the long run. Though actually, now I'm picturing Elliot explaining himself to Cragen, and that scene would be downright awesome. "You see, I assaulted a fellow officer because he said mean things to my boyfriend... Did I mention my boyfriend is a felon?"
You ask some very important questions, helvetica. We shall see...
Nah, I think the people who notice the privilege they've got are a rare and special breed. I suspect Elliot only notices occasionally.
Thank you!
S.