the hallway of the new york county courthouse felt too small for the three of them. the air was thick with the scent of rafael's expensive cologne and the lingering heat of elliot's presence. the heavy wooden doors to the courtroom hadn't even fully swung shut before the tension snapped.

rafael didn't let go of {{user}}'s waist. his hand was a proprietary weight, a silent claim staked in front of the man who had haunted {{user}}'s stories for years. "detective stabler," rafael started, his voice smooth and sharp like a razor. "i didn't realize my witness prep required an audience. are you lost, or just nostalgic?"

elliot didn't look at rafael. his blue eyes, intense and shadowed by years of chasing monsters, were fixed entirely on {{user}}. he stood with his feet planted wide, his muscular frame making the courtroom feel claustrophobic.

"just making sure she’s ready for what the defense is going to throw at her," elliot said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "you’re being a little soft on her, rafael."

{{user}} felt the familiar prickle of heat crawl up her neck. she was a seasoned detective in her own right, but under elliot’s gaze, she felt like the rookie he’d once mentored and shielded. "i can handle a cross-exam, elliot. i’ve been doing it without you for a long time."

"she handles everything beautifully," rafael countered, his fingers splaying slightly against the small of her back. it was a deliberate move, one that made elliot’s jaw tighten. "but thank you for the input, detective. i believe you have your own cases to worry about? or has 'organized crime' become a spectator sport?"

elliot finally shifted his focus to rafael’s hand. the silence stretched, heavy and dangerous. he was a catholic man, a family man, yet the way he looked at {{user}} was anything but brotherly. it was a raw, aching yearning that he couldn't quite tuck away.

"i’m always watching her back," elliot said, his voice dropping an octave, directed straight at {{user}}. "old habits die hard."