Someone Like You 62/63: Golden - Beecher/Stabler
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: 5720
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 62: Golden
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 61, Flying downhill:
After it was quietly agreed that Elliot was Carol Brady, and no one dared to suggest Olivia was Alice, the Thanksgiving drama took a strange but welcome turn to tobogganing. Liz didn't want to go down with Holly, on account of Holly being a snob and weirdo. Elliot took a ride down with Toby for everyone to see.
Elliot joined Maureen and Kathleen's argument on the relative dangers of Toby, cut short when a bloody sledding accident tripped Holly into a panic attack. Toby rushed Holly home, and Elliot was left to explain Gary and Holly's history to everyone. Toby got Holly to sleep and crawled in with Elliot.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A yelp woke Elliot.
He didn't know where he was until Toby's soft voice broke through, soothing, and it took a moment more to realise it wasn't for him.
"It's okay, sweetheart, it's far away."
Elliot stiffened, not wanting to disturb Holly, and way too much of an SVU detective to be comfortable with an adolescent girl in his bed, however innocent.
The flash of lightning through that huge picture window clued him in, and then there was a clap of thunder and Holly sobbed, and Elliot felt her jump from the other side of the bed. Thundersnow on top of that kid's shattered arm today. Small wonder.
"Hush, sweetheart, it's okay, I've got you."
Toby's voice was soft, but there was an edge of stress in it that Elliot knew well. He'd sounded the same when Maureen was having nightmares about being on fire after seeing that burned body when she was fifteen. There was nothing worse than being powerless against your kid's terror. There was a gust of wind that made the whole house shake, and he braced himself for her whimper. The storm wasn't going anywhere soon.
He slid out of bed, knew Holly's whimper was for the reminder he was there. "Why don't we turn some lights on, I'll make hot chocolate?" He felt for his shirt on the floor and slipped it on before hitting the bedside lamp. Holly's face was buried against Toby's chest, her body curled up in a ball. Toby's face was miserable.
Elliot drew the curtains to muffle the whipping trees, and shuffled off towards the toilet. He was groggy, but a piss and a splash of water over his face woke him up a little. Despite how smart she was, how strong she was, all Toby's love, this shit was going to be chasing Holly all her life. It made him want to hug Toby the way Toby was hugging Holly.
Downstairs, turning on plenty of lights. Saucepan, milk... Elliot knew he'd seen chocolate powder in the cupboard... there. He winced at another thunderclap. Not Elliot's brand, but he could make it work. Marshmallows, bonus. He put the milk on to warm and turned on the TV, dropping the volume and flipping until he found the Golden Girls. Shouldn't be much chance of trauma on that. There'd been enough going on the past few days that he hadn't thought to be watching weather reports. Who the hell expected a thunderstorm in Vermont in November?
He went upstairs again, pushed open the door. "Come on." No use lying there, concentrating on the storm. If Holly could live with Elliot seeing her upset, the best they could do was distract her until it was over.
Toby gave a little nod and Elliot left him to coax her out. He was about to head downstairs when he remembered Toby talking about the nightmares after Coney Island, Harry making fun of her for wetting the bed. He crept into the dark bedroom and took a moment to watch Lizzie. She was frowning like she always did when she was deep in sleep. He felt Holly's sheets, was relieved to find he wouldn't have to change them, and crept out again.
It was cool downstairs, so he grabbed a couple of extra blankets from the cupboard, threw them on the couch and went back to check the milk. Hot chocolate and television had become a ritual with Maureen when he couldn't get her back to sleep after the nightmares, until it just started being a thing they shared. Sometimes he'd come home from a late shift to find her waiting for him on the couch, drowsing in front of some mindless TV, blanket half in her lap, half spread out waiting for him. There was no better cure for a miserable night at a hellish crime scene. He'd missed that the most, when she moved out.
Elliot tucked the bag of marshmallows under his arm and hooked three mugs in his fingers to carry out just as Toby guided her down the stairs. She looked as embarrassed as she was terrified, face splotchy and wet. Toby was in his glasses, his hair sticking up in every direction. He settled on the couch with her, and Elliot waited until she was covered with a blanket before passing her a hot chocolate and taking up the other side of Toby. "I used to hate storms when I was a kid." A lot younger than Holly, of course, but his mother used to turn all the lights on and chatter like it was nothing until it rumbled away. Whatever her failings, she'd always been great at distraction. "You want marshmallows?"
She sniffed and rubbed her red eyes and nodded, so Elliot dropped a couple in and offered the bag to Toby.
Toby took four, and nodded towards the screen. The picture bounced off his glasses. "There used to be an old woman living a few doors down from here when I was a teenager; she was so much like Sophia. She scandalised the neighbourhood the way she said whatever she thought. Your grandfather used to invite her over every chance he had, to Mother's horror."
It got a small, tremulous smile out of Holly. Elliot and Toby chatted quietly about anything as she slowly calmed, until she was only flinching at the thunder.
Toby turned. "Maureen. Sorry, did we wake you?"
She was coming down the stairs, squinting against the lights, arms wrapped in her over-size t-shirt and flannel pyjama bottoms. "I smell a hot chocolate party." She gave them a long, strange look, and then sat beside Elliot.
He passed her his hot chocolate. It was still warm enough. "Remember when we used to do this?"
"I miss it." She took a sip and passed it back, scrunching her nose. "You never put enough marshmallows in yours."
Elliot started to wiggle out. "I'll make you some."
She waved him down and got up. "I'll get it. You look comfortable." She gave him a wry look as she headed for the kitchen.
Elliot realised Toby was slumped back against his shoulder and they were sharing a blanket that had probably been crocheted by his grandmother, curled up together as intimately as he'd ever been on the couch with Kathy. Maureen hadn't said anything so he subsided, buried his nose in Toby's hair. It was too much to hope she'd gotten past this afternoon, but he'd gladly take the ceasefire.
A couple of minutes later she was climbing in beside him with a fresh mug, tucking her feet under her like this was just another night in their old house, like she hadn't been horrified a few hours ago.
Thunder cracked nearby and Holly seized up with a whimper.
Maureen shot her a concerned look, but kept her voice light. "Is this the episode where they want to save the tree?"
Lizzie came down during the next ads, Dickie lumbering half-awake behind her. "Is something happening?"
Maureen spoke up. "Rose thinks she gave the neighbour a heart attack."
"Is that the one where the mean old lady wants to chop the tree down?"
Both the twins cast a few thoughtful looks, but neither said anything about their father being curled up with a felon, or Holly's red eyes. Elliot squeezed Toby's leg under the blanket, and Toby leaned closer. The twins sprawled on the floor.
Next came Harry. "What's going on?"
"Storm's woken everybody up," said Maureen. "Want a hot chocolate?"
"Really?" His eyes went wide like he'd just been offered a month of ice cream. Elliot guessed this didn't happen at Jonah and Marta's house.
"Middle-of-the-night hot chocolate is the best. I'll make one for Kathleen, too."
She headed back to the kitchen, phone in hand, texting a wake-up to her sister. That was everyone but Liv, so Elliot reached for his own phone on the coffee table, trying not to shift Toby or to let the cool air sneak under the blanket, and texted, 'Impromptu party downstairs. PJs okay.'
A few minutes later Liv was coming down the stairs dressed in the same t-shirt-flannel combo as Maureen, but with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Kathleen was two minutes after her. Maureen brought them mugs, and then curled up back beside Elliot.
Elliot's girls were appalled to find out Harry had never seen the Golden Girls before. It sounded like Jonah and Marta didn't allow much TV, and definitely not midnight Hallmark channel marathons.
Elizabeth started a debate over which was their favourite character. Dickie liked Blanche, of course. So did Elliot, but he kept it to himself. They were all talking over each other, and they got Holly wound up enough arguing the merits of Dorothy that she didn't even notice the next thunder strike.
Blanche wandered in, worrying about the shrieking and moaning the night before. Dorothy quipped about the noise from Blanche's bedroom, , and went back to reading her magazine.
Harry said, "I think I like Dorothy best, too."
Credits rolled and another episode began, the chatter trickling off. Toby had grown heavier, warm and solid, and Elliot's arm was asleep, but he just wriggled his fingers. He wouldn't have shifted Toby for the world. Holly's head had rolled off Toby's thigh, and Kathleen's mouth was hanging wide, her eyes shut. Everyone else was drowsing or half-drowsing, Dickie and Lizzie slumped together and slurring their commentary. Under the blanket Toby's hand wrapped around Elliot's and squeezed. It felt electric, illicit. He murmured, "This is how I felt on the drive up here."
Elliot's chest thumped, just like it had when he said it aloud that night. He twisted his neck to catch Toby's lips, held him there for a little while. Perfectly still, breathing him all the way in. He wished there was a way to sneak upstairs, kiss him all over.
When they let go Maureen was staring. She blinked, and turned back to the TV.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Toby didn't have the energy to move. Everything hurt. Elliot circled around and opened the door, pulled him out of the passenger seat. "Let's just leave all your stuff down here. We'll pull it out tomorrow." It sounded great to Toby.
Elliot propped Toby's skis against the garage wall while Toby tossed his wettest clothes over the drying rack in the corner and then wrapped his arms around Elliot's neck. "Thank you."
"You had a good time out there?" Elliot's hands were rubbing the warmth back into him.
Toby just shook his head. He couldn't even begin to explain. He'd forgotten that air could be that fresh. Even Brooklyn air had been a pleasure after the years in Oz, but this was something else. He'd always loved to ski: the speed, the solitude... he would have described it as a kind of freedom back when he couldn't have comprehended what that word meant. Now, after all the years in prison, with a year since dragging the bars with him, that word didn't seem to encompass it. His goggles had kept fogging up.
Elliot kissed him, soft and sweet, perfect to stir Toby's cock. "I'm glad. Thanks for not breaking a leg or skiing into any trees."
"You were pretty clear about that being against the rules." Toby nuzzled Elliot's jaw. He was freshly shaved and he smelled great. Good enough to lick.
"Come on. You head up and shower, and I'll heat up dinner."
Toby pressed a little closer. He was starving, but he didn't think he wanted to wait that long to get Elliot moaning. "I might be too hungry to bother with dinner." They finally had the house to themselves, no more muffled hand jobs behind closed doors. Toby wanted to rub his cock all over him.
Elliot laughed, and gave a happy grunt as Toby ground against him. "You're going to have to wait. I cooked." Elliot guided him inside and pushed him up the stairs. Shower first.
Toby groaned as he forced his legs up the steps. He should think about getting a chair lift put in.
They'd packed into Elliot's car and a taxi to take the kids to the station this morning. Toby had been smiling watching Holly hug Elliot goodbye when he was taken by surprise by a hug from Kathleen. Elizabeth had given him a quick hug too, Dick had shaken his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Maureen had kissed his cheek, and thanked him for hosting. Toby had wanted to promise her he wouldn't hurt her father, but he couldn't say it knowing how much he already had.
Toby threw the water to hot and stripped off his clothes, left them in a pile on the floor. He'd hugged Olivia, too. He didn't know how to thank her for being around this weekend, but he was going to start with flowers. A really big bunch of flowers.
Harry and Holly had managed to tell each other, 'Seeya.' It was a Thanksgiving miracle.
Once everyone was on the train, it had been off to the airport with Harry. It felt like the first time Toby had ever parted with Harry on good terms. He'd asked, "You told Elliot you want to come for Christmas?"
"Can I?"
It had taken all Toby's self control to keep his, "Of course," casual.
"Will Dick and Liz and everyone be there?"
Toby had looked to Elliot, and Elliot said, "We'll see what we can do."
Toby climbed under the spray and couldn't fight the enormous sigh that rolled through his body. This shower was a great idea. He felt days - weeks - of stress swirling down the drain.
One big Christmas sounded perfect to him, but god knew how they'd coordinate custody with Jonah and Marta and Kathy with scheduling his own mother and Angus to get all his family in one place at once. Right now, it felt possible.
Toby spent way too long just standing under the spray, soaking the heat into long-neglected muscles in his aching legs and ass. And back. Toby rubbed his spine. He should have dragged Elliot up here, shown him all the places to rub, started building him up towards the promised fucking. Toby felt like he'd been hard ever since Elliot's offer, ass twitching with anticipation. Whenever he hadn't been revelling in the cool, crisp air, Toby had spent the day planning a long, leisurely day of naked tomorrow, thinking about where and how, riding the anticipation. He'd been dangerously close to rubbing himself off on the ski lift. He was dangerously close to rubbing himself off now, under the torrent of scalding water.
Even knowing Elliot was waiting, Toby had to force himself out of the hot shower. He towelled off and wandered into the bedroom and stopped. His best French blue shirt and a navy tie were laid out on the bed, his suit pants beside them, and in case the message wasn't clear, Elliot's writing on a yellow post-it told him to 'wear this'. Okay. Toby didn't even remember bringing these, but apparently he was wearing them tonight. This was why Elliot shaved?
This wasn't what he'd planned for tonight. There was nothing on the note about grooming, but Toby went back and gave himself a quick shave, then came out and dressed. Toby was more in a mood to stay in, scarf down a couple of turkey rolls and get on with taking clothes off, but if Elliot wanted to go out, Toby could wait. A full Windsor, and Toby found a pair of his father's cufflinks in the drawer. He clipped them on and rubbed a thumb over one, letting himself feel the pang. He wished his dad could meet Elliot, see Toby got something right eventually.
Toby got halfway down the stairs, and slowed to a stop. "All right..." This wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Now I know why you wanted me to wear the shirt and tie." Elliot had set a painfully formal table that would have won Toby's grandmother's nod of approval: white tablecloth, two settings of the good silverware and best china all perfectly aligned and facing across the table, cloth napkins, dimmed lights and candlesticks.
"Because you look good in that blue."
Elliot looked damned good himself, in a black shirt and grey thin-striped tie. Toby wondered, not for the first time, how a blue collar cop learned to dress himself so well.
"I was worried you'd think the note was stupid."
A little, but Elliot had more than earned the benefit of the doubt. "More like intriguing. Tell me you have a bottle of Dom Perignon chilling."
"Sparkling apple juice."
"Pity." The one flaw in the settings was that each place had only two glasses: one water, one juice.
Elliot came up a couple of steps and kissed him, just a brush of lips, and then a gentle nuzzle along Toby's sensitive jaw. "You look sexy."
"So do you." Toby slid his hands over Elliot's shirt, down his tie. He was aching and aroused and would have preferred to wolf down dinner in the kitchen and get straight to dessert. "What's all this for?"
Elliot shrugged. "Because we survived Thanksgiving."
"We did."
"And now we have the place to ourselves."
All the more reason to skip this, in Toby's mind.
"Because I like having you around. Because later tonight I want to pull off this tie and unbutton you slowly."
It seemed like a lot of effort for that. "You know I'm a sure thing, right?"
A frown skipped across his face. "I would never assume." Elliot took Toby's hand and led him to the table, pulled out his chair.
Toby couldn't keep his eyebrows from creeping up, but he swallowed his smile. "What, no flowers?"
Elliot narrowed his eyes. "Nothing's in season." He poured apple juice for them both and brought out two small bowls of thick vegetable soup and a basket of warm rolls, and settled into his seat. All the way across the table.
Apparently this was going to be multiple courses. Toby tasted it. Potato base... carrot and celery, spiced with cumin and coriander. A little finely-chopped chilli. "This is delicious, El. Maybe you should cook more often."
"That would be a tragic waste of your talents." He sipped his own, and seemed satisfied with how it turned out. "Not bad for something mostly out of a tin. Did you call Holly?"
"I texted her."
"She's okay?"
Toby smiled. "She texted me back." He pulled out his phone and found the message, and slid it across the table. Partly because the sight of a phone on a dinner table like this would have appalled his grandmother. Partly because Elliot deserved to read it himself.
Elliot took the phone, stopped chewing, and swallowed. "I'm fine. Enjoy your dirty weekend with Elliot."
"Who do you think she got that from?"
He rubbed his face. "Kathleen."
"That was my guess. Your children are already corrupting mine."
"Didn't you tell me once you want Holly to turn your hair white? If anyone can teach her how to do that, it's Kathleen." Elliot passed the phone back, looking a little green.
"It's a seven hour train ride down to Grand Central. You know they were talking about us."
Elliot grabbed another roll. "I'd just really prefer it if our kids weren't talking about our sex life."
Being teased about their sex life sounded a hell of a lot better to Toby than being despised for his history. Poor, prudish Elliot. He never would have coped with all the glass walls of Em City.
Elliot changed the subject to skiing. Toby's soup was already almost gone, but Elliot was taking his time, putting his spoon down as he listened to Toby describe finding his ski-feet after all these years. He didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry at all.
Maybe he wasn't. Toby put his own spoon down. Maybe this was all a delaying tactic, Elliot regretting his declaration from Saturday morning. Toby wondered if there was a nice way to say Elliot didn't have to fuck him if he wasn't ready. Something formal, in keeping with the table. Toby was ready and willing if he was, but hadn't really expected it tonight anyway. He'd figured tonight would be fast and hungry, blow-jobs or good old-fashioned frottage, maybe a finger or two to build anticipation, and tomorrow would be a long, leisurely build up to Toby getting his ass plowed. Toby touched himself through his pants, caught his lip in his teeth as he imagined Elliot pressing his legs wide, maybe still in that shirt, unbuttoned so the black cotton framed the hair on his chest, tie hanging loose.
If Elliot wasn't so caught up in this ridiculous dinner, they could already be there.
Elliot lifted the bottle and refilled their glasses. It didn't help that Toby's drinking habit left them playing pretend with juice like a couple of girls having a tea party, with Toby as the wife. Elliot might be handling this better if he had half a bottle of champagne in him. Toby lifted his glass. "If I'd known I was going to be wined and dined like this, I would have worn a pretty dress for you."
Elliot went still, face turning to stone. "Don't say that."
Toby's skin crawled. "I didn't mean..." He'd just meant to make a dig about their date, not to remind Elliot about his dirty past.
"It isn't funny."
"Sorry."
Elliot settled back in his seat, hands clenched on the table.
That night was always going to linger deep in the back of Elliot's mind, waiting for Toby's big mouth to wrench it out into the light. Elliot had learned to live with the brand, but Toby would bet that queer red dress and the stink of other men's jizz didn't fade away so easily.
Toby tried not to pout. He didn't want to think about where he'd been, and he didn't want Elliot thinking about it either. He didn't want to go through some elaborate dinner ritual. He just wanted to get naked with Elliot, tease and touch and kiss him for hours, keep him in the here and now. He could feel Elliot's eyes on him, so he played with the stem of his glass and wished it held something worth drinking until Elliot stood and cleared their soup bowls.
Elliot's mouth was a sharp line as he brought out the main course, but he kept his voice gentle. "Leftover turkey was inevitable, but I found some ginger sauce to change it up."
There was fresh salad, too. He'd gone to real effort while Toby was out on the slopes today, and in return Toby had dragged his ugly past into the room, and then sulked about it. "Thank you for cooking, El. This looks delicious."
Elliot nodded, and pushed rocket around his plate. He didn't look like he was enjoying his food.
This crimp in the evening wasn't going away. "I'm sorry about the dress comment. I wasn't even thinking about when I used to..." He trailed off. Naming it would be even worse. "It was a half-assed joke."
"A joke about me treating you like a woman."
Toby squirmed. What was he supposed to say? This was the stuff he used to do to seduce Genevieve. It was the stuff Vern used to joke about.
"I'm not treating you like a woman, Toby. I'm treating you like someone I love. Tonight is supposed to be special."
"Isn't just being together special enough?" Toby cringed at how trite that sounded. He was planning to show Elliot how special he was when he was finally allowed to drag him up to bed.
"Not if you don't make it that way. If you just take it for granted, one day you look up and your wife's taken the kids and gone to live with her mother."
"I'm not-"
"I actually like this stuff, Toby. I like dressing nice and eating with a salad fork and candlelight. I like enjoying an evening without kids or the threat of being called out to a homicide. I like talking to you. I don't want to just bend you over a table tonight. I want some fucking romance. You're telling me I can't have that because you're a man?"
Toby swallowed. He felt like a total asshole. "I'm sorry I'm ruining it."
"You're not ruining it," Elliot growled.
"I think I've forgotten how to do this." Maybe Elliot had been treating Toby like Kathy, but that beat the hell out of what Toby was doing, treating Elliot like Chris, like it all came back to fucking. "Can we start over?"
"I don't have any more soup."
"So we'll jump straight to the main course. And this time I'll notice that you must have gone out shopping for the bread and salad before you did all this cooking. And I think you cleaned the house."
"I just tidied it a bit."
"Thank you Elliot."
Elliot nodded. "I'm going to do it right, this time. I'm going to remember this stuff. I'm going to work out my anger. I'm going to talk to you about my job."
Toby blinked. "You've decided to stick with SVU?"
"I think so. I have to help people." He ran his tongue over his lip. "I don't think I'd like myself if I didn't."
There was a real danger that was true. Hard as the weight of SVU could be, Toby couldn't imagine Elliot surviving a job without purpose. "Can you handle it better this time around?"
"I think I can do it, if you can handle hearing about it."
"I can handle it."
"Okay." The way he said it sounded final, like that was the decision made, right there.
Toby wanted to reach over and squeeze his hand, but he was on the other side of the damned table, and Toby wasn't going to whine about that any longer. So instead he tried a smile, relieved when Elliot managed one in return. "How was your day?"
"Peaceful. It's a nice little town." They finally got back to eating. Somehow between cooking dinner and tidying up the house Elliot had managed to take a walk along the lake front and explore the town. Toby pushed him for details until the tension faded. It was fun piecing together his observations with Toby's old memories, until they realised Elliot had stumbled across a wedding at the park where Toby's dad used to take him and Angus fishing. "It reminded me. I never asked you what happened with that friend's wedding."
"What wedding?" Toby hadn't been to a wedding in a very long time.
"The one your mother wants you to go to."
Oh, god. Patricia's wedding. "I'm going, of course. Unless I can clear parole to escape the country." It would be wall-to-wall with people Toby hadn't seen since he was a high-flying alcoholic lawyer. Drinking buddies who vanished the moment Toby had his rights read, colleagues who encouraged him to chase the acquittal that offended Judge Lema, loyal friends whose calls and letters he'd ignored in shame.
"Did you..." Elliot shifted in his seat. "...want me to come?"
Toby paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "Do you want to come?"
"If you wanted me there, I think I could do it."
Toby sat back, surprised. He hadn't expected that. "But you don't actually want to, do you?"
"I don't know." He looked like he meant that, at least. "I think, if it was tomorrow, I don't know if I could do that. But May's six months off. Last May I hadn't thought much past touching you, and look where we are now."
"So you do want to."
Elliot looked irritated, though it seemed to be with himself, more than Toby. "I don't know. I'm not exactly chafing to tell Munch or Finn about my private life, but give me some time and I might be okay with your friends, if that's what you want. I want to have your back. I don't want to make things harder for you." He shrugged. "What do you want?"
"I don't know either." Toby was surprised Elliot would even consider it. Did Toby want to show up to Patricia's wedding, back from prison with a big gay date? Just pile all the scandal on at once? "Why don't we wait until I get an invitation before we start worrying about this?"
Elliot gave a rueful smile. "Sounds good to me. I just wanted you to know you can ask."
"All right." Toby found himself staring at Elliot. He definitely hadn't expected that.
Elliot looked up from his turkey, smiled when he caught Toby watching. "You really haven't seen any of your old friends since you got out?"
"My family's expectations have been enough to deal with."
"You're worried they'll judge you?"
Toby knew they'd already judged him. "Maybe I just don't want to find out who they think I am."
"You don't need to be ashamed of who you are."
Toby snorted, and Elliot went back to frowning. They fell quiet, enjoying the food, but Toby could see something was still on Elliot's mind. Toby wished he could tell him to stop obsessing over what people thought, but it seemed like telling water not to be wet.
Elliot pushed his salad around his plate until Toby was ready to prod him, and suddenly said, "Did you mean what you said before?"
About Elliot coming to the wedding? About his old friends? "You'll have to be more specific."
Elliot worked his jaw like he was chewing out his words, wouldn't meet Toby's eyes. "Do you wish you wore a dress tonight?"
Toby gritted his teeth. He'd already apologised. Why did Elliot have to bring it up again? "Would you want me to?"
"No." His voice was flat, not taking the bait.
"Then it doesn't matter."
"It does matter."
"What if I did? Would you pretend you were okay with it?" Toby didn't know why he was pushing it. He didn't wish for one second that Elliot would see him like that. He wished Elliot never had. "If I said I wanted to go change into a slinky little dress, you'd be okay with that?"
Elliot couldn't hide his shudder. "I'd... I'd deal with it. I learned to be okay with you having a cock, didn't I?" He cringed, clearly not liking how that came out. "If you... If you've got some sort of... If you like that, I don't want it to be some shameful secret you keep from me. I wouldn't think less of you for it. I wouldn't like it, but I'd... I'd figure it out." He stared at his finger, tracing the edge of the plate. "I don't ever want to make you feel ashamed."
"Fuck, Elliot." Toby felt like he'd been hollowed out. "I've got all the shame I need. You don't add to it. You make me forget that shit." Elliot still wouldn't meet his eyes. "No. I don't want to wear a dress. I told you I did it to humiliate myself."
"I know. It's just... This, us, was pretty fragile the last time we talked about it. We were barely... We're solid now. At least, this feels solid." He finally looked up, looking way too vulnerable for Elliot Stabler. "If you were afraid to tell me something before, maybe you can trust me now."
There was a whole world of things Toby couldn't tell Elliot, but that wasn't one of them.
Toby was silent, so Elliot plunged on. "When I saw you outside Franco's, I wasn't disgusted by the dress. That's not what... I hardly even saw it. I was disgusted by what you'd let those men do to you."
So much for never making Toby feel ashamed. "The dress was how I let them. I don't ever want to do it again."
Elliot held his gaze. "You deserve better. You deserve to be wined and dined by someone who loves you." A tiny smile. "And you look a hell of a lot sexier filling out an over-priced designer shirt and tie."
Toby seized on the subject change. "Are you suggesting I'm a clothes horse?"
"If the four-hundred dollar shirt fits..."
"I may shop from the higher end but judging by the turnover I've always assumed your walk-in-closet's bigger than my apartment."
"My job is hard on the wardrobe."
"So it's got nothing to do with knowing how pretty you look in a suit."
Elliot made an innocent face and ran a hand down the tie that was accenting his broad chest. They smiled, and there was more than a little relief in it for both of them.
Elliot took a bite of turkey and screwed up his nose. "This is cold. Let me heat these plates up."
He came around the table, close enough for Toby to catch his tie and tug him down into a kiss. "Thank you for dinner."
"My pleasure. Thank you for Thanksgiving." He collected Toby's plate and headed to the kitchen.
Toby was desperately grateful to have left the dress-talk behind, but he wondered how Elliot would cope if Toby told him he did want to wear one. Here I am, Elliot. Rape victim and prag. Want to fuck? Toby wasn't ever going to give him a chance to find out.
Elliot brought out the plates and this time they got on with eating. Toby waited until it was half-gone before he said, "Since we're talking about dirty secrets..."
Elliot lifted his head, wary all over again.
"Lizzie was bubbling about your mother coming to see her play. You've never mentioned her. I thought..." He'd thought she was dead, like Elliot's father.
Elliot shrugged, defensive. "She's a good grandmother."
"Not such a great mother?"
No more than a slight tip of the head to confirm. "I'm glad I never had to trust her to hold my family together, the way your mother did."
Toby nodded. He knew how much his mother had done for him, but he was happy to be reminded. "Tell me about her sometime. Not tonight."
Elliot nodded, the tension rushing out of his shoulders. "I can do that."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 62
Before I finish, I just want to take a second to thank everyone who left feedback along the way. I can certainly write to amuse myself, but I only get stuff finished and polished and posted in the hopes that someone will like it, and it was the enthusiasm and kindness of everyone who left replies as I posted that kept my steam going on this. So thank you all, so very much. You don't know how much your comments meant.
And an extra particular thank you to mazephoenix, mulder200, sahem, iskra and vanillalime, who really made me feel I had people out there who'd shank me if I didn't keep it coming. Trust me, that's like having a solid tits connection straight to Pancamo.
Feedback makes cats purr and dogs' tails wag. 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: 5720
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 62: Golden
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 61, Flying downhill:
After it was quietly agreed that Elliot was Carol Brady, and no one dared to suggest Olivia was Alice, the Thanksgiving drama took a strange but welcome turn to tobogganing. Liz didn't want to go down with Holly, on account of Holly being a snob and weirdo. Elliot took a ride down with Toby for everyone to see.
Elliot joined Maureen and Kathleen's argument on the relative dangers of Toby, cut short when a bloody sledding accident tripped Holly into a panic attack. Toby rushed Holly home, and Elliot was left to explain Gary and Holly's history to everyone. Toby got Holly to sleep and crawled in with Elliot.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A yelp woke Elliot.
He didn't know where he was until Toby's soft voice broke through, soothing, and it took a moment more to realise it wasn't for him.
"It's okay, sweetheart, it's far away."
Elliot stiffened, not wanting to disturb Holly, and way too much of an SVU detective to be comfortable with an adolescent girl in his bed, however innocent.
The flash of lightning through that huge picture window clued him in, and then there was a clap of thunder and Holly sobbed, and Elliot felt her jump from the other side of the bed. Thundersnow on top of that kid's shattered arm today. Small wonder.
"Hush, sweetheart, it's okay, I've got you."
Toby's voice was soft, but there was an edge of stress in it that Elliot knew well. He'd sounded the same when Maureen was having nightmares about being on fire after seeing that burned body when she was fifteen. There was nothing worse than being powerless against your kid's terror. There was a gust of wind that made the whole house shake, and he braced himself for her whimper. The storm wasn't going anywhere soon.
He slid out of bed, knew Holly's whimper was for the reminder he was there. "Why don't we turn some lights on, I'll make hot chocolate?" He felt for his shirt on the floor and slipped it on before hitting the bedside lamp. Holly's face was buried against Toby's chest, her body curled up in a ball. Toby's face was miserable.
Elliot drew the curtains to muffle the whipping trees, and shuffled off towards the toilet. He was groggy, but a piss and a splash of water over his face woke him up a little. Despite how smart she was, how strong she was, all Toby's love, this shit was going to be chasing Holly all her life. It made him want to hug Toby the way Toby was hugging Holly.
Downstairs, turning on plenty of lights. Saucepan, milk... Elliot knew he'd seen chocolate powder in the cupboard... there. He winced at another thunderclap. Not Elliot's brand, but he could make it work. Marshmallows, bonus. He put the milk on to warm and turned on the TV, dropping the volume and flipping until he found the Golden Girls. Shouldn't be much chance of trauma on that. There'd been enough going on the past few days that he hadn't thought to be watching weather reports. Who the hell expected a thunderstorm in Vermont in November?
He went upstairs again, pushed open the door. "Come on." No use lying there, concentrating on the storm. If Holly could live with Elliot seeing her upset, the best they could do was distract her until it was over.
Toby gave a little nod and Elliot left him to coax her out. He was about to head downstairs when he remembered Toby talking about the nightmares after Coney Island, Harry making fun of her for wetting the bed. He crept into the dark bedroom and took a moment to watch Lizzie. She was frowning like she always did when she was deep in sleep. He felt Holly's sheets, was relieved to find he wouldn't have to change them, and crept out again.
It was cool downstairs, so he grabbed a couple of extra blankets from the cupboard, threw them on the couch and went back to check the milk. Hot chocolate and television had become a ritual with Maureen when he couldn't get her back to sleep after the nightmares, until it just started being a thing they shared. Sometimes he'd come home from a late shift to find her waiting for him on the couch, drowsing in front of some mindless TV, blanket half in her lap, half spread out waiting for him. There was no better cure for a miserable night at a hellish crime scene. He'd missed that the most, when she moved out.
Elliot tucked the bag of marshmallows under his arm and hooked three mugs in his fingers to carry out just as Toby guided her down the stairs. She looked as embarrassed as she was terrified, face splotchy and wet. Toby was in his glasses, his hair sticking up in every direction. He settled on the couch with her, and Elliot waited until she was covered with a blanket before passing her a hot chocolate and taking up the other side of Toby. "I used to hate storms when I was a kid." A lot younger than Holly, of course, but his mother used to turn all the lights on and chatter like it was nothing until it rumbled away. Whatever her failings, she'd always been great at distraction. "You want marshmallows?"
She sniffed and rubbed her red eyes and nodded, so Elliot dropped a couple in and offered the bag to Toby.
Toby took four, and nodded towards the screen. The picture bounced off his glasses. "There used to be an old woman living a few doors down from here when I was a teenager; she was so much like Sophia. She scandalised the neighbourhood the way she said whatever she thought. Your grandfather used to invite her over every chance he had, to Mother's horror."
It got a small, tremulous smile out of Holly. Elliot and Toby chatted quietly about anything as she slowly calmed, until she was only flinching at the thunder.
Toby turned. "Maureen. Sorry, did we wake you?"
She was coming down the stairs, squinting against the lights, arms wrapped in her over-size t-shirt and flannel pyjama bottoms. "I smell a hot chocolate party." She gave them a long, strange look, and then sat beside Elliot.
He passed her his hot chocolate. It was still warm enough. "Remember when we used to do this?"
"I miss it." She took a sip and passed it back, scrunching her nose. "You never put enough marshmallows in yours."
Elliot started to wiggle out. "I'll make you some."
She waved him down and got up. "I'll get it. You look comfortable." She gave him a wry look as she headed for the kitchen.
Elliot realised Toby was slumped back against his shoulder and they were sharing a blanket that had probably been crocheted by his grandmother, curled up together as intimately as he'd ever been on the couch with Kathy. Maureen hadn't said anything so he subsided, buried his nose in Toby's hair. It was too much to hope she'd gotten past this afternoon, but he'd gladly take the ceasefire.
A couple of minutes later she was climbing in beside him with a fresh mug, tucking her feet under her like this was just another night in their old house, like she hadn't been horrified a few hours ago.
Thunder cracked nearby and Holly seized up with a whimper.
Maureen shot her a concerned look, but kept her voice light. "Is this the episode where they want to save the tree?"
Lizzie came down during the next ads, Dickie lumbering half-awake behind her. "Is something happening?"
Maureen spoke up. "Rose thinks she gave the neighbour a heart attack."
"Is that the one where the mean old lady wants to chop the tree down?"
Both the twins cast a few thoughtful looks, but neither said anything about their father being curled up with a felon, or Holly's red eyes. Elliot squeezed Toby's leg under the blanket, and Toby leaned closer. The twins sprawled on the floor.
Next came Harry. "What's going on?"
"Storm's woken everybody up," said Maureen. "Want a hot chocolate?"
"Really?" His eyes went wide like he'd just been offered a month of ice cream. Elliot guessed this didn't happen at Jonah and Marta's house.
"Middle-of-the-night hot chocolate is the best. I'll make one for Kathleen, too."
She headed back to the kitchen, phone in hand, texting a wake-up to her sister. That was everyone but Liv, so Elliot reached for his own phone on the coffee table, trying not to shift Toby or to let the cool air sneak under the blanket, and texted, 'Impromptu party downstairs. PJs okay.'
A few minutes later Liv was coming down the stairs dressed in the same t-shirt-flannel combo as Maureen, but with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Kathleen was two minutes after her. Maureen brought them mugs, and then curled up back beside Elliot.
Elliot's girls were appalled to find out Harry had never seen the Golden Girls before. It sounded like Jonah and Marta didn't allow much TV, and definitely not midnight Hallmark channel marathons.
Elizabeth started a debate over which was their favourite character. Dickie liked Blanche, of course. So did Elliot, but he kept it to himself. They were all talking over each other, and they got Holly wound up enough arguing the merits of Dorothy that she didn't even notice the next thunder strike.
Blanche wandered in, worrying about the shrieking and moaning the night before. Dorothy quipped about the noise from Blanche's bedroom, , and went back to reading her magazine.
Harry said, "I think I like Dorothy best, too."
Credits rolled and another episode began, the chatter trickling off. Toby had grown heavier, warm and solid, and Elliot's arm was asleep, but he just wriggled his fingers. He wouldn't have shifted Toby for the world. Holly's head had rolled off Toby's thigh, and Kathleen's mouth was hanging wide, her eyes shut. Everyone else was drowsing or half-drowsing, Dickie and Lizzie slumped together and slurring their commentary. Under the blanket Toby's hand wrapped around Elliot's and squeezed. It felt electric, illicit. He murmured, "This is how I felt on the drive up here."
Elliot's chest thumped, just like it had when he said it aloud that night. He twisted his neck to catch Toby's lips, held him there for a little while. Perfectly still, breathing him all the way in. He wished there was a way to sneak upstairs, kiss him all over.
When they let go Maureen was staring. She blinked, and turned back to the TV.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Toby didn't have the energy to move. Everything hurt. Elliot circled around and opened the door, pulled him out of the passenger seat. "Let's just leave all your stuff down here. We'll pull it out tomorrow." It sounded great to Toby.
Elliot propped Toby's skis against the garage wall while Toby tossed his wettest clothes over the drying rack in the corner and then wrapped his arms around Elliot's neck. "Thank you."
"You had a good time out there?" Elliot's hands were rubbing the warmth back into him.
Toby just shook his head. He couldn't even begin to explain. He'd forgotten that air could be that fresh. Even Brooklyn air had been a pleasure after the years in Oz, but this was something else. He'd always loved to ski: the speed, the solitude... he would have described it as a kind of freedom back when he couldn't have comprehended what that word meant. Now, after all the years in prison, with a year since dragging the bars with him, that word didn't seem to encompass it. His goggles had kept fogging up.
Elliot kissed him, soft and sweet, perfect to stir Toby's cock. "I'm glad. Thanks for not breaking a leg or skiing into any trees."
"You were pretty clear about that being against the rules." Toby nuzzled Elliot's jaw. He was freshly shaved and he smelled great. Good enough to lick.
"Come on. You head up and shower, and I'll heat up dinner."
Toby pressed a little closer. He was starving, but he didn't think he wanted to wait that long to get Elliot moaning. "I might be too hungry to bother with dinner." They finally had the house to themselves, no more muffled hand jobs behind closed doors. Toby wanted to rub his cock all over him.
Elliot laughed, and gave a happy grunt as Toby ground against him. "You're going to have to wait. I cooked." Elliot guided him inside and pushed him up the stairs. Shower first.
Toby groaned as he forced his legs up the steps. He should think about getting a chair lift put in.
They'd packed into Elliot's car and a taxi to take the kids to the station this morning. Toby had been smiling watching Holly hug Elliot goodbye when he was taken by surprise by a hug from Kathleen. Elizabeth had given him a quick hug too, Dick had shaken his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Maureen had kissed his cheek, and thanked him for hosting. Toby had wanted to promise her he wouldn't hurt her father, but he couldn't say it knowing how much he already had.
Toby threw the water to hot and stripped off his clothes, left them in a pile on the floor. He'd hugged Olivia, too. He didn't know how to thank her for being around this weekend, but he was going to start with flowers. A really big bunch of flowers.
Harry and Holly had managed to tell each other, 'Seeya.' It was a Thanksgiving miracle.
Once everyone was on the train, it had been off to the airport with Harry. It felt like the first time Toby had ever parted with Harry on good terms. He'd asked, "You told Elliot you want to come for Christmas?"
"Can I?"
It had taken all Toby's self control to keep his, "Of course," casual.
"Will Dick and Liz and everyone be there?"
Toby had looked to Elliot, and Elliot said, "We'll see what we can do."
Toby climbed under the spray and couldn't fight the enormous sigh that rolled through his body. This shower was a great idea. He felt days - weeks - of stress swirling down the drain.
One big Christmas sounded perfect to him, but god knew how they'd coordinate custody with Jonah and Marta and Kathy with scheduling his own mother and Angus to get all his family in one place at once. Right now, it felt possible.
Toby spent way too long just standing under the spray, soaking the heat into long-neglected muscles in his aching legs and ass. And back. Toby rubbed his spine. He should have dragged Elliot up here, shown him all the places to rub, started building him up towards the promised fucking. Toby felt like he'd been hard ever since Elliot's offer, ass twitching with anticipation. Whenever he hadn't been revelling in the cool, crisp air, Toby had spent the day planning a long, leisurely day of naked tomorrow, thinking about where and how, riding the anticipation. He'd been dangerously close to rubbing himself off on the ski lift. He was dangerously close to rubbing himself off now, under the torrent of scalding water.
Even knowing Elliot was waiting, Toby had to force himself out of the hot shower. He towelled off and wandered into the bedroom and stopped. His best French blue shirt and a navy tie were laid out on the bed, his suit pants beside them, and in case the message wasn't clear, Elliot's writing on a yellow post-it told him to 'wear this'. Okay. Toby didn't even remember bringing these, but apparently he was wearing them tonight. This was why Elliot shaved?
This wasn't what he'd planned for tonight. There was nothing on the note about grooming, but Toby went back and gave himself a quick shave, then came out and dressed. Toby was more in a mood to stay in, scarf down a couple of turkey rolls and get on with taking clothes off, but if Elliot wanted to go out, Toby could wait. A full Windsor, and Toby found a pair of his father's cufflinks in the drawer. He clipped them on and rubbed a thumb over one, letting himself feel the pang. He wished his dad could meet Elliot, see Toby got something right eventually.
Toby got halfway down the stairs, and slowed to a stop. "All right..." This wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Now I know why you wanted me to wear the shirt and tie." Elliot had set a painfully formal table that would have won Toby's grandmother's nod of approval: white tablecloth, two settings of the good silverware and best china all perfectly aligned and facing across the table, cloth napkins, dimmed lights and candlesticks.
"Because you look good in that blue."
Elliot looked damned good himself, in a black shirt and grey thin-striped tie. Toby wondered, not for the first time, how a blue collar cop learned to dress himself so well.
"I was worried you'd think the note was stupid."
A little, but Elliot had more than earned the benefit of the doubt. "More like intriguing. Tell me you have a bottle of Dom Perignon chilling."
"Sparkling apple juice."
"Pity." The one flaw in the settings was that each place had only two glasses: one water, one juice.
Elliot came up a couple of steps and kissed him, just a brush of lips, and then a gentle nuzzle along Toby's sensitive jaw. "You look sexy."
"So do you." Toby slid his hands over Elliot's shirt, down his tie. He was aching and aroused and would have preferred to wolf down dinner in the kitchen and get straight to dessert. "What's all this for?"
Elliot shrugged. "Because we survived Thanksgiving."
"We did."
"And now we have the place to ourselves."
All the more reason to skip this, in Toby's mind.
"Because I like having you around. Because later tonight I want to pull off this tie and unbutton you slowly."
It seemed like a lot of effort for that. "You know I'm a sure thing, right?"
A frown skipped across his face. "I would never assume." Elliot took Toby's hand and led him to the table, pulled out his chair.
Toby couldn't keep his eyebrows from creeping up, but he swallowed his smile. "What, no flowers?"
Elliot narrowed his eyes. "Nothing's in season." He poured apple juice for them both and brought out two small bowls of thick vegetable soup and a basket of warm rolls, and settled into his seat. All the way across the table.
Apparently this was going to be multiple courses. Toby tasted it. Potato base... carrot and celery, spiced with cumin and coriander. A little finely-chopped chilli. "This is delicious, El. Maybe you should cook more often."
"That would be a tragic waste of your talents." He sipped his own, and seemed satisfied with how it turned out. "Not bad for something mostly out of a tin. Did you call Holly?"
"I texted her."
"She's okay?"
Toby smiled. "She texted me back." He pulled out his phone and found the message, and slid it across the table. Partly because the sight of a phone on a dinner table like this would have appalled his grandmother. Partly because Elliot deserved to read it himself.
Elliot took the phone, stopped chewing, and swallowed. "I'm fine. Enjoy your dirty weekend with Elliot."
"Who do you think she got that from?"
He rubbed his face. "Kathleen."
"That was my guess. Your children are already corrupting mine."
"Didn't you tell me once you want Holly to turn your hair white? If anyone can teach her how to do that, it's Kathleen." Elliot passed the phone back, looking a little green.
"It's a seven hour train ride down to Grand Central. You know they were talking about us."
Elliot grabbed another roll. "I'd just really prefer it if our kids weren't talking about our sex life."
Being teased about their sex life sounded a hell of a lot better to Toby than being despised for his history. Poor, prudish Elliot. He never would have coped with all the glass walls of Em City.
Elliot changed the subject to skiing. Toby's soup was already almost gone, but Elliot was taking his time, putting his spoon down as he listened to Toby describe finding his ski-feet after all these years. He didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry at all.
Maybe he wasn't. Toby put his own spoon down. Maybe this was all a delaying tactic, Elliot regretting his declaration from Saturday morning. Toby wondered if there was a nice way to say Elliot didn't have to fuck him if he wasn't ready. Something formal, in keeping with the table. Toby was ready and willing if he was, but hadn't really expected it tonight anyway. He'd figured tonight would be fast and hungry, blow-jobs or good old-fashioned frottage, maybe a finger or two to build anticipation, and tomorrow would be a long, leisurely build up to Toby getting his ass plowed. Toby touched himself through his pants, caught his lip in his teeth as he imagined Elliot pressing his legs wide, maybe still in that shirt, unbuttoned so the black cotton framed the hair on his chest, tie hanging loose.
If Elliot wasn't so caught up in this ridiculous dinner, they could already be there.
Elliot lifted the bottle and refilled their glasses. It didn't help that Toby's drinking habit left them playing pretend with juice like a couple of girls having a tea party, with Toby as the wife. Elliot might be handling this better if he had half a bottle of champagne in him. Toby lifted his glass. "If I'd known I was going to be wined and dined like this, I would have worn a pretty dress for you."
Elliot went still, face turning to stone. "Don't say that."
Toby's skin crawled. "I didn't mean..." He'd just meant to make a dig about their date, not to remind Elliot about his dirty past.
"It isn't funny."
"Sorry."
Elliot settled back in his seat, hands clenched on the table.
That night was always going to linger deep in the back of Elliot's mind, waiting for Toby's big mouth to wrench it out into the light. Elliot had learned to live with the brand, but Toby would bet that queer red dress and the stink of other men's jizz didn't fade away so easily.
Toby tried not to pout. He didn't want to think about where he'd been, and he didn't want Elliot thinking about it either. He didn't want to go through some elaborate dinner ritual. He just wanted to get naked with Elliot, tease and touch and kiss him for hours, keep him in the here and now. He could feel Elliot's eyes on him, so he played with the stem of his glass and wished it held something worth drinking until Elliot stood and cleared their soup bowls.
Elliot's mouth was a sharp line as he brought out the main course, but he kept his voice gentle. "Leftover turkey was inevitable, but I found some ginger sauce to change it up."
There was fresh salad, too. He'd gone to real effort while Toby was out on the slopes today, and in return Toby had dragged his ugly past into the room, and then sulked about it. "Thank you for cooking, El. This looks delicious."
Elliot nodded, and pushed rocket around his plate. He didn't look like he was enjoying his food.
This crimp in the evening wasn't going away. "I'm sorry about the dress comment. I wasn't even thinking about when I used to..." He trailed off. Naming it would be even worse. "It was a half-assed joke."
"A joke about me treating you like a woman."
Toby squirmed. What was he supposed to say? This was the stuff he used to do to seduce Genevieve. It was the stuff Vern used to joke about.
"I'm not treating you like a woman, Toby. I'm treating you like someone I love. Tonight is supposed to be special."
"Isn't just being together special enough?" Toby cringed at how trite that sounded. He was planning to show Elliot how special he was when he was finally allowed to drag him up to bed.
"Not if you don't make it that way. If you just take it for granted, one day you look up and your wife's taken the kids and gone to live with her mother."
"I'm not-"
"I actually like this stuff, Toby. I like dressing nice and eating with a salad fork and candlelight. I like enjoying an evening without kids or the threat of being called out to a homicide. I like talking to you. I don't want to just bend you over a table tonight. I want some fucking romance. You're telling me I can't have that because you're a man?"
Toby swallowed. He felt like a total asshole. "I'm sorry I'm ruining it."
"You're not ruining it," Elliot growled.
"I think I've forgotten how to do this." Maybe Elliot had been treating Toby like Kathy, but that beat the hell out of what Toby was doing, treating Elliot like Chris, like it all came back to fucking. "Can we start over?"
"I don't have any more soup."
"So we'll jump straight to the main course. And this time I'll notice that you must have gone out shopping for the bread and salad before you did all this cooking. And I think you cleaned the house."
"I just tidied it a bit."
"Thank you Elliot."
Elliot nodded. "I'm going to do it right, this time. I'm going to remember this stuff. I'm going to work out my anger. I'm going to talk to you about my job."
Toby blinked. "You've decided to stick with SVU?"
"I think so. I have to help people." He ran his tongue over his lip. "I don't think I'd like myself if I didn't."
There was a real danger that was true. Hard as the weight of SVU could be, Toby couldn't imagine Elliot surviving a job without purpose. "Can you handle it better this time around?"
"I think I can do it, if you can handle hearing about it."
"I can handle it."
"Okay." The way he said it sounded final, like that was the decision made, right there.
Toby wanted to reach over and squeeze his hand, but he was on the other side of the damned table, and Toby wasn't going to whine about that any longer. So instead he tried a smile, relieved when Elliot managed one in return. "How was your day?"
"Peaceful. It's a nice little town." They finally got back to eating. Somehow between cooking dinner and tidying up the house Elliot had managed to take a walk along the lake front and explore the town. Toby pushed him for details until the tension faded. It was fun piecing together his observations with Toby's old memories, until they realised Elliot had stumbled across a wedding at the park where Toby's dad used to take him and Angus fishing. "It reminded me. I never asked you what happened with that friend's wedding."
"What wedding?" Toby hadn't been to a wedding in a very long time.
"The one your mother wants you to go to."
Oh, god. Patricia's wedding. "I'm going, of course. Unless I can clear parole to escape the country." It would be wall-to-wall with people Toby hadn't seen since he was a high-flying alcoholic lawyer. Drinking buddies who vanished the moment Toby had his rights read, colleagues who encouraged him to chase the acquittal that offended Judge Lema, loyal friends whose calls and letters he'd ignored in shame.
"Did you..." Elliot shifted in his seat. "...want me to come?"
Toby paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "Do you want to come?"
"If you wanted me there, I think I could do it."
Toby sat back, surprised. He hadn't expected that. "But you don't actually want to, do you?"
"I don't know." He looked like he meant that, at least. "I think, if it was tomorrow, I don't know if I could do that. But May's six months off. Last May I hadn't thought much past touching you, and look where we are now."
"So you do want to."
Elliot looked irritated, though it seemed to be with himself, more than Toby. "I don't know. I'm not exactly chafing to tell Munch or Finn about my private life, but give me some time and I might be okay with your friends, if that's what you want. I want to have your back. I don't want to make things harder for you." He shrugged. "What do you want?"
"I don't know either." Toby was surprised Elliot would even consider it. Did Toby want to show up to Patricia's wedding, back from prison with a big gay date? Just pile all the scandal on at once? "Why don't we wait until I get an invitation before we start worrying about this?"
Elliot gave a rueful smile. "Sounds good to me. I just wanted you to know you can ask."
"All right." Toby found himself staring at Elliot. He definitely hadn't expected that.
Elliot looked up from his turkey, smiled when he caught Toby watching. "You really haven't seen any of your old friends since you got out?"
"My family's expectations have been enough to deal with."
"You're worried they'll judge you?"
Toby knew they'd already judged him. "Maybe I just don't want to find out who they think I am."
"You don't need to be ashamed of who you are."
Toby snorted, and Elliot went back to frowning. They fell quiet, enjoying the food, but Toby could see something was still on Elliot's mind. Toby wished he could tell him to stop obsessing over what people thought, but it seemed like telling water not to be wet.
Elliot pushed his salad around his plate until Toby was ready to prod him, and suddenly said, "Did you mean what you said before?"
About Elliot coming to the wedding? About his old friends? "You'll have to be more specific."
Elliot worked his jaw like he was chewing out his words, wouldn't meet Toby's eyes. "Do you wish you wore a dress tonight?"
Toby gritted his teeth. He'd already apologised. Why did Elliot have to bring it up again? "Would you want me to?"
"No." His voice was flat, not taking the bait.
"Then it doesn't matter."
"It does matter."
"What if I did? Would you pretend you were okay with it?" Toby didn't know why he was pushing it. He didn't wish for one second that Elliot would see him like that. He wished Elliot never had. "If I said I wanted to go change into a slinky little dress, you'd be okay with that?"
Elliot couldn't hide his shudder. "I'd... I'd deal with it. I learned to be okay with you having a cock, didn't I?" He cringed, clearly not liking how that came out. "If you... If you've got some sort of... If you like that, I don't want it to be some shameful secret you keep from me. I wouldn't think less of you for it. I wouldn't like it, but I'd... I'd figure it out." He stared at his finger, tracing the edge of the plate. "I don't ever want to make you feel ashamed."
"Fuck, Elliot." Toby felt like he'd been hollowed out. "I've got all the shame I need. You don't add to it. You make me forget that shit." Elliot still wouldn't meet his eyes. "No. I don't want to wear a dress. I told you I did it to humiliate myself."
"I know. It's just... This, us, was pretty fragile the last time we talked about it. We were barely... We're solid now. At least, this feels solid." He finally looked up, looking way too vulnerable for Elliot Stabler. "If you were afraid to tell me something before, maybe you can trust me now."
There was a whole world of things Toby couldn't tell Elliot, but that wasn't one of them.
Toby was silent, so Elliot plunged on. "When I saw you outside Franco's, I wasn't disgusted by the dress. That's not what... I hardly even saw it. I was disgusted by what you'd let those men do to you."
So much for never making Toby feel ashamed. "The dress was how I let them. I don't ever want to do it again."
Elliot held his gaze. "You deserve better. You deserve to be wined and dined by someone who loves you." A tiny smile. "And you look a hell of a lot sexier filling out an over-priced designer shirt and tie."
Toby seized on the subject change. "Are you suggesting I'm a clothes horse?"
"If the four-hundred dollar shirt fits..."
"I may shop from the higher end but judging by the turnover I've always assumed your walk-in-closet's bigger than my apartment."
"My job is hard on the wardrobe."
"So it's got nothing to do with knowing how pretty you look in a suit."
Elliot made an innocent face and ran a hand down the tie that was accenting his broad chest. They smiled, and there was more than a little relief in it for both of them.
Elliot took a bite of turkey and screwed up his nose. "This is cold. Let me heat these plates up."
He came around the table, close enough for Toby to catch his tie and tug him down into a kiss. "Thank you for dinner."
"My pleasure. Thank you for Thanksgiving." He collected Toby's plate and headed to the kitchen.
Toby was desperately grateful to have left the dress-talk behind, but he wondered how Elliot would cope if Toby told him he did want to wear one. Here I am, Elliot. Rape victim and prag. Want to fuck? Toby wasn't ever going to give him a chance to find out.
Elliot brought out the plates and this time they got on with eating. Toby waited until it was half-gone before he said, "Since we're talking about dirty secrets..."
Elliot lifted his head, wary all over again.
"Lizzie was bubbling about your mother coming to see her play. You've never mentioned her. I thought..." He'd thought she was dead, like Elliot's father.
Elliot shrugged, defensive. "She's a good grandmother."
"Not such a great mother?"
No more than a slight tip of the head to confirm. "I'm glad I never had to trust her to hold my family together, the way your mother did."
Toby nodded. He knew how much his mother had done for him, but he was happy to be reminded. "Tell me about her sometime. Not tonight."
Elliot nodded, the tension rushing out of his shoulders. "I can do that."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 62
Before I finish, I just want to take a second to thank everyone who left feedback along the way. I can certainly write to amuse myself, but I only get stuff finished and polished and posted in the hopes that someone will like it, and it was the enthusiasm and kindness of everyone who left replies as I posted that kept my steam going on this. So thank you all, so very much. You don't know how much your comments meant.
And an extra particular thank you to mazephoenix, mulder200, sahem, iskra and vanillalime, who really made me feel I had people out there who'd shank me if I didn't keep it coming. Trust me, that's like having a solid tits connection straight to Pancamo.
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The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.