DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I promise I'm only borrowing them and will return them to their rightful owners whenever they ask for them back. My imagination took a flight of fancy.....my bank account stayed empty. (Seriously, the cast of SVU belong to Dick Wolf and I'm only borrowing them for some free daydreaming that I wrote down.).
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is fluff – I repeat, FLUFF! Anyone expecting serious fic should wander off to something else – it was written in response to a challenge, which I won't give away as it ruins the punchline.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To ncruuk[at]gmail.com

Be Prepared
By ncruuk


"She didn't..." began Elliot, not sure how to react to his partner's latest bombshell, but mindful that he was not only well within hitting distance, but also lacking in easy escape routes.

"You want to see it to believe it?" asked Olivia, looking questioningly at her partner.

"No...I believe you," said Elliot, although his tone clearly suggested otherwise.

"What's so hard to believe El?" asked Olivia, taking another bite of her pretzel, her eyes never leaving from the door they were watching, waiting for their perp to appear.

"I didn't realise people even did that anymore."

"Sure they do..." Olivia's tone was so full of conviction, Elliot recognised he was going to have to compromise to survive this conversation, irrespective of what he actually thought.

"Ok...but only if they're ninety..." He couldn't help himself, and should have known better, really, he should.

"ELLIOT!" Olivia did not take kindly to having Elliot liken her girlfriend to a ninety-year-old.

"Sorry...but you have to admit it's a strange thing for Alex to do..." amended Elliot, accepting now that she could do it, but wondering how the hell she'd learnt how to, or why....

"Their housekeeper taught her when she was a kid..." explained Olivia briefly, unwilling to expand on it. Elliot didn't need to know the full complexity of Alex's privileged upbringing by incredibly hands-off parents that had actually meant she was brought up by the 'help'. She'd never mastered cooking, but it had eventually been decided that that was genetic. Everything else, she excelled at, just as Olivia would have expected.

"Ok, so she had the knowledge..." began Elliot, approaching this conundrum as if he would a case, "...and you provided the opportunity, but how the hell did she have the means?"

"She had her purse El," explained Olivia, finishing her pretzel, beginning to wonder how they'd got onto this topic in the first place.

"And that makes sense how?"

"When you're out and need something like a pain pill or a pen, what do you do?" asked Olivia practically, risking a glance at her partner.

"And I haven't got it?" clarified Elliot, thinking.


"I ask you or Kathy..."


"Because you always have it...."

"Where do we have it?" asked Olivia wearily, wondering if it was just her perspective, or whether Elliot was genuinely making very heavy weather of this rather simple non-issue.

"Your purses....." answered Elliot deflated, only to suddenly straighten in his seat so rapidly it made Olivia nearly give herself whiplash as she turned to look out of the windshield at the door they were watching, only to be disappointed as Elliot exclaimed,

"A needle and thread? You expect me to believe that Alex carries a needle and thread in her purse?"

"Of course..." exclaimed Olivia in now bored frustration, "...what else did you expect her to use to darn my gym sock with when we were in the locker room just now?"

The End

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