Okay, this had been existing on two little scraps of paper for a few months now. I think that you can tell a lot about two people's dynamic by watching them dance. So this is a plotless fic about our favorite detectives dancing at a work party early in their partnership. EO attraction, sexual tension, all that good stuff, but Elliot's married, so no real romance.
Disclaimer: I did own them, but I lent them to someone who gave them back to Dick Wolf, so they aren't mine. (But I'm working on it!)
You wouldn't think so, but somehow the fact that she dances fits into her puzzle. She's my partner, and despite the fact that she is only three years my junior, she seems so young. Maybe it's her vibrance, her spirit—so bright and so obvious, that on some days, it could belong to a teenager. She's had a haunted past, that much I know, but you wouldn't know it half the time. Munch says that that's what adds to her intrigue. I don't know if that's true, but Olivia sure has a lot of it. Intrigue, that is.
She told me that it was the first work party she had ever been to, and I assured her that she was blending in. Actually, it was a lie—in that flowy blue dress she was anything but just another woman in the place. The high heeled shoes she wore clicked when she walked, something that Kathy said was a big deal to women. Everywhere Liv went that night, a cloud of male attention followed her—every guy under fifty was eyeing her off to the side, obviously dying for just one dance with her. She was poised in that feminine way, dancing once with her admirers, but never twice.
Kathy wasn't with me that night. She had a reunion at one of her old friends' houses, and Cragen had told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to miss this party even had to sell some body parts to get there. I think she felt guilty for not coming, because she put her hand on my shoulder, and said, "Don't have a shitty time because I'm not there. I won't have Munch and Olivia calling me about how you can't handle yourself without someone watching you." Still, I wasn't upset. Both if us never got to go out, so neither of us was getting a bad deal here.
I asked Liv to dance about half way through the night—after she'd danced with ten to a dozen starry eyed rookies, plus Munch, so that he couldn't deride me for it. He liked to remind me that I didn't always see Olivia as being completely sexless. I was aware of Liv sure, but I loved Kathy, and there was no way I would ever cheat on her, so no harm, no foul.
When I did finally ask her, Olivia gave me an incredulous look before placing her hand in the crook of my arm. The song was a slow one, and I kept one had on her hip, and held her left with the other one.
"Didn't take you for a dancer, Stabler. Never comes out at work."
"I can't really show off my dancing skills with the perps can I? They'd think I was soft."
"Elliot Stabler, model alpha male."
"Damn straight."
I spun her around, lacing my fingers through hers, and brought her closer. I noticed that she moved smoothly and intimately with the music, no effort involved. This was superwoman Detective Benson at her most explosive; feminine and beautiful, but still packing enough punch to knock you out if you pissed her off. And even I, at six foot one, and over fifty pounds heavier that her, would not want to cross her on a bad day.
Her pretty face was sporting a small smile, and I felt damn accomplished to have been the one to put it there. She locked my eyes with her, and I didn't look away like I normally would have. I just couldn't make myself. Her eyes were the perfect color of Hershey's chocolate, and she had little crinkles at the side when she was genuinely happy.
Apparently, she was happy now.
My thoughts catapulted across the spectrum of purity, and I found myself watching her body, more closely that I ever had. I'd noticed before that she had wide hips, but the effect was tripled in the clingy blue silk. The neckline glided low to reveal her, well, cleavage, and as much as I tried to discipline myself not to look at it, I couldn't help myself. I'm Catholic, but Christ, I'm not going for sainthood here. My hand traveled up from her hip to rest on her waist; firm enough that I knew she worked out, but soft enough that I knew it wasn't all she did.
She looked up at me, flipping her dark hair out of her eyes, and gave me that Olivia- knows- all look, then as smile, and a shake of the head to let me know she was enjoying the moment too.
My hand took on a life of its own, wandering it's way over her shoulder, and then though I knew I shouldn't I found myself absently caressing her cheek with my thumb.
I watched her, this superwoman, and I wondered how the hell she could possibly still be single. I decided that it had to be by choice, because there had to be something wrong with any single, straight, adult male, who wasn't attracted to her. It had to be some kind of obscure genetic mutation.
The song gradually became faster, and her hips moved with mine, she twisted elegantly back and forth, and laced her fingers in and out of mine. When all this was over, I'd go home to my wife, whom I adored, my job, which I depended on, and my kids, whom I lived for.
But for that moment, I was enjoying watching Liv dance.
When you dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, stay with me.
Review, please. I wasn't so sure about this one.