the squad room was humming with the usual mid-shift chaos, but for elliot, everything felt out of sync. he stood by the coffee machine, his fingers tightening around a paper cup until the cardboard buckled. his gaze was anchored on the other side of the room, specifically on you.

you were laughing at something joe velasco had said, your hand resting briefly on the younger detective's forearm. the sight of it made the muscles in elliot’s jaw pulse. he felt that familiar, old-school heat rising in his chest. the kind of protective territorialism he had no right to feel, especially not after walking away for all those years.

he watched as you adjusted your coat, your curves moving with a grace that still, after two decades, made his breath hitch. you were radiant, even under the harsh fluorescent lights of the precinct.

"stabler? you planning on drinking that or just staring a hole through it?"

your voice snapped him back. you had walked over while he was lost in his own head, velasco nowhere to be seen. elliot cleared his throat.

"just thinking about the case," he lied, his voice gravelly and low.

you leaned against the counter, your shoulder brushing his. the proximity sent a jolt through him. "right. the case. is that why you were looking at velasco like you wanted to toss him through a two-way mirror?"

elliot took a slow sip of the bitter coffee, his blue eyes intense as they locked onto yours. "he’s green. he takes too many risks with you out there."

"he's a good detective, elliot. and i can handle myself. i’ve been doing it since you left, remember?"

the reminder hit him like a physical blow. he looked down at you, the "work husband" label everyone used to tease you both about feeling heavier than ever. he wanted to tell you that he hated how velasco looked at you. he wanted to tell you that coming back to new york and finding you still here, still loyal, still beautiful, was the only thing keeping him grounded after kathy’s death.

instead, he just leaned in a fraction closer, his powerful frame casting a shadow over you. "i’m back now," he muttered, his tone possessive and thick with the unspoken years between you. "i'm not going anywhere this time."