Sadly, I don't own any of them. They are forever bound to Dick Wolf and his imagination.
The awkward and dorky ideas belong to me, KrazyKasey©
Liv's key jammed in the door…as always. But it only took four tries this time to thrust it open. The heavy door stood in her way as she pushed down the handle with her hip. The dull silver door handle slid through the belt loop on her tight white slacks. "Damn it," she sighed. She had to drop 2 of the 5 bags she was carrying to untangle herself. She heard something crack. The eggs. And this is why she didn't buy real food. "Sucks for Elliot," she finished, and slid her packages in through the door. A flick of the light switch with her shoulder gained a groan from the man on her couch.
"Ehhhhyy," Elliot's voice droned on.
"That's what you get for sleeping on my couch, eating my food and living in a city with crappy apartment doors!" Olivia responded, frustrated but amused at the sight of her partner sprawled out on her couch. One sock on, one off. His sweat pants scrunched up on his leg that was draped backwards over the back of the furniture. His head barely fit on the arm rest, his thick wrist flopped over his eyes, shading the light that Liv had just turned on.
"Sorry my divorce inconveniences the city of New York and its surrounding muni…." He was gone again. Incoherent, drooling, and a total hunk.
She was surprised that he didn't force himself up to help with the grocery bags on the floor. She sighed in relief, thankful for a chance to clear her head, alone, without Elliot hovering over her and trying to be his normal cocky, smart-mouthed self.
God he's a monster.. Fucking blue eyes. And blue bulging veins. And the muscles. Ohh the muscles. And does he have to sleep with a shirt off? Lord knows I'm too cheap to turn the heat on. The last time I had a love-hate relationship this bad was with my birth control in high school. If Kathy keeps teasing him like this, I'm going to have to splurge and buy a bigger couch for my living room. It's being used way too often as a guest room. Maybe this time it's for real though. Ha, yeah, because that bottle-blonde will let him waltz out of her life and run to me.
She had been enthralled in her thoughts too long, and realized that she had already finished with the groceries and the dirty dishes.
"That's what I get for being infatuated with you," she mumbled.
"I can hear you.." Elliot whispered from around the corner.
"You're dreaming, El. Goodnight." And with a flick of a switch, the light was out again.
"It's morning, Olivia," he slowly enunciated each syllable of her name. He was wide awake now. And he had a plan to devise. He flipped open his phone and reread his emails.
Dear Mr. Stabler,
Your apartment will be ready for move in on the 16th. Please reply to this message with your intent to move in and a $400 deposit by the first of May. Please contact …..blah…blah….blah….The rest didn't matter. It was the first two sentences that his eyes were fixed on. He had only been on Liv's couch for four nights. Two of which, were technically spent at work. He didn't want to tell her that it would be almost a whole other month before he would be out of her hair. But he knew that's just what he would say. 'I can really stay in the cribs a few nights a week, I swear. No, Liv, it's no problem at all. And actually, my sister invited me over for a week, so really, it'll be like I'm not here at all.' He fantasized the response he knew he would get. 'No, El. You're staying here. End of story. Just buy and cook your own damn food.' A smirk played on his lips as he put away his phone for the night. He heard the water in the bathroom shut off and a few doors open and close. Liv was in her room now. He pulled himself up and into the kitchen for a drink. Thank the lord, she had bought more beer. He plopped himself onto the closest counter and leaned against the cupboards for relief. Almost drifting back to sleep, he stretched his long legs across the gap and onto the counter across the way. The clock on the microwave read 4:45. Goodbye alcohol, hello sex crimes... He stuck the remains in the fridge, even though he knew it would be thrown out by his new roommate before he would have a chance to finish it.
He hopped in the shower and stood with the hot water spraying at the nape of his neck. Why'd she even come home tonight? What happened with her and Fin's case from this evening? He heard that their female suspect had been particularly feisty. Liv responded to the perp's smart-assed-ness as if it were a late birthday present sent from the heavens. They had a nice match of "who can be more sarcastic" before El had left work for the night. He chuckled at the memory of Liv accusing Miss Stephanie of hitting on her partner, offering to shove her panties down her throat for a nice side show preview.
Elliot didn't know if it was his sudsy hands or the thought of his best friend that was arousing him. Knowing full well that Liv would refuse to sleep for more than a few minutes, and would be craving a hot shower, he flipped the knob to the other direction, washing and freezing away his lustful thoughts. She doesn't want it, El. One month, and move on. One month. Then move out. Move on. This is it. The last big hurrah of excuses to stay here. Either make her want it, make her see that she wants it, or leave it alone, and move on.