Work Text:
“You son-of-a-bitch,” Olivia growled, fingertips digging into Elliot’s chest as she pushed him hard with her right hand. The forced retreat of two steps made her smirk, cocky with the knowledge that he wasn’t resisting her. There was a faint tremble in her hands as she advanced on him, her usually well-suppressed rage welling up to the surface. “Where the hell do you get off questioning my orders?” She tried to shove him back again, finding him unmoving and anticipating the ire building in his gaze.
Elliot narrowed his eyes and took a step into her space, barely an inch between them as they stood toe-to-toe. “They’re not my orders,” he replied smugly. “I’m supposed to take this guy back to the OCCB for questioning regarding his familiarity with a couple of people of interest.” Shrugging, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the cinder block wall next to the observation window.
Leaning forward slightly, she glared at him, his casual dismissal of her authority rankling in the worst way. “We’ve got him on rape and assault charges. You can have him once we’re done.” Olivia’s tone brooked no nonsense, expression determined.
“Yeah, well, take it up with the chief of Ds,” Elliot snapped, tired of dealing with her posturing. Grabbing the perp by the yoke of his shirt, he roughly hauled him out of his chair and steered him toward the door to the interview room. “Come on. Let’s go,” he directed, bustling him through the door frame and knocking into the captain’s shoulder with his own on his way out.
Olivia stalked after him, temper flaring higher at his blatant disrespect. “I’m not finished with you, Detective,” she bit off sharply, following tight on his heels.
Elliot sighed in exasperation and handed the suspect off to Washburn, telling him, “Get him back to the OCCB. Sarge wants to talk with him yesterday.” The other detective looked apprehensively at Captain Benson, only starting to walk away when Stabler assured, “I’ve got this. Go, they don’t have anything they can hold him on.” Turning back to Olivia, he flashed her a shit-eating grin and announced, “All yours, Captain.”
“You’ve got a pair on you if you think I’m going to let you walk out of here after that display.” Her tone was low, dangerous, her hands fists at her sides.
He taunted, “You can get a better look at ‘em from your knees. Matter of fact,” he added with a malicious grin, “you can kiss my ass while you’re down there.”
That was the last straw for Olivia, his insubordination reaching new extremes. “Oh, I’ll get on my knees for you—when I’m shoving your face into the concrete, you prick,” she snarled as she lunged for him just at the elevator doors were closing behind Washburn and their suspect.
Elliot’s hands came up and caught her wrists easily as he stepped back to absorb her momentum. Her nose was an inch from his when he chuckled, shaking his head at her. “Remind me not to piss you off in the future,” he joked, releasing his grip on her as she relaxed.
Laughing lightly, Olivia smirked and responded flippantly, “Don’t piss me off in the future.”
“Damn,” Fin interjected as he moved closer, “you almost had me going.” He glanced over his shoulder at Rollins, taking in her incredulous expression.
“Amanda, I’m sorry,” Olivia apologized. “We had to improvise pretty fast. The bureau needs this guy’s info, and this was the quickest way to soften him up enough to talk.” Pointing at the half-finished soda can on the interrogation room table, she reassured her detective, “Besides, once DNA comes back on that, we’ll have him for the rape.”
Rollins nodded uncertainly as she absorbed what had just happened. “Just . . . maybe a little warning next time. I was getting ready to punch Stabler if you hadn’t ended it when you did.”
Elliot beamed at Olivia and said, “Looks like we still got it.”
“If you mean freakishly believable when working a perp? Yeah. Y’all get the Academy Award.” Her eyes were still wide as she headed back to her desk, wondering how the hell Fin survived working with them for so long.