Bits in between Starved
I don't own. Dick Wolf does.
He hits the punching bag for what must be the hundredth time, except it doesn't feel like enough.
She looked so great in the blazer, the low-cut shirt.
Punch
Her hair looks so good in that length, it always looked good.
Punch.
How are her eyelashes so deliciously long?
Punch.
Was she baiting him?
Punch.
Oh, no, he was interested. I could feel it, you know?
Punch.
What did that look mean?
Punch.
Why did his stomach turn into butterflies when she looked up at him?
Punch.
Why was he glad that despite her teasing tone, she looked away?
Punch.
Why did he find it so hard to hold her gaze?
Punch.
Why did she look so smug when that email came in?
Punch.
Didn't she realize that stings like this were dangerous?
Punch.
Suddenly he understands why Fin had to be in that bar, why he had to wait in the car. He can't imagine that creep putting his hands all over her, over someone who wasn't his to touch.
He stops and takes a few deep breaths.
This creep wants to be in control, wants to order his women around. Elliot feels an emotional punch, he's explaining to himself that he doesn't want to order Olivia around. He takes a seat on a bench nearby and tries to slow his breathing.
He doesn't want to pick her food, he just wants her to eat. He doesn't want to pick her drinks, he just wants to be there when she drinks them. He doesn't understand why he gets so defensive when they walk down the street and guys practically undress her with their eyes. He doesn't understand why he wants to tell Olivia to be safe, why he wants to drive her home and make sure she's tucked in bed away from all the bad the world has. He doesn't understand why he wants to push her hair behind her ear, and softly touch her lips with his own as he crawls into bed with her. He doesn't understand why he's so hopelessly in love that it's suddenly hard to breathe around her.
His stomach turns as he runs both his hands down his face. He didn't realize how easy it is to think these thoughts until they're out there. He's tried for years to keep them at bay, and he doesn't get why suddenly here they are throwing themselves out as if this was normal.
He gets up, and walks up to the punching bag, focusing his aim.
Punch, punch, punch.
