A/N: I'm on a roll. Enjoy.
The hinges of Elliot's front door creak deafeningly as he slowly closes it. And then there's silence. Complete, absolute, all-encompassing silence- in both his apartment and in his thoughts. His hand is locked on the doorknob, his eyes are locked on his hand.
He breathes. He blinks. His vision blurs and he realizes that tears have formed in the corners of his eyes.
"Can you just be my friend? I miss my best friend."
He lets go of the doorknob. The whites on his knuckles slowly fade. He falls back from the door, makes his way to the couch and sits.
"Last night was a mistake."
Last night was a lot of things, but a 'mistake' isn't one of them. Elliot swallows, falling back against the couch cushions. She's in his mind and he can't get her out- her voice, her eyes, her skin as it presses against his, her legs as they wrap around his waist. He doesn't know what came over him earlier this morning- they've gone from barely speaking to each other one minute, to proclaiming that they'd give each other vital organs, and finally to at each other's throats over a case. In reality, he probably should have guessed that something like this would happen- that all their pent up tension towards each other would boil over. And it did. And they fucked like nothing hurtful had happened, like she hadn't left him twice without a word, like she hadn't thrown the state of his marriage into his face to hurt him. He wants to be angry with her- angry with her for pressing a button that she knows would upset him, angry for not at least leaving him a message those two times she dropped out of his life, and angry with her for just dropping back into it right in the middle of a case.
For a little while, he was. He barely spoke to her, he had no interest in being around her and their time together was silent and strained. But then, for some God forsaken reason that he still can't understand, that woman was able to worm her way back into his heart. The undeniable truth that was made all to clear to him after the Gitano case wormed its way back into his mind; Olivia is far more than just a partner and a friend to him. He feels something in his heart for her- something deep, something real, something dangerously close to love.
"We're partners. We can forget it happened."
He doesn't want to forget. The way her body felt underneath his, how it felt to hear her moan out his name and the tight warmth that surrounded him every time he plunged all the way into her… Elliot nearly groans. All of those feelings and memories are burned into his mind and there's absolutely no doubt, he wants to do it again.
But he'd rather have her in his life as a friend than not at all. He can't handle the thought of her running off again, and if things get too complicated like they have before, that's exactly what she's going to do. So he'll be her friend, because what he really wants with her is unattainable and this is the next best thing. He'll bury these desires so deep that hopefully they'll fade away. They've been friends for going on nine years, he can keep on going like this.
Right?
—-
The next day, they both go into work. They do their paperwork, they stand in front of the whiteboard in the bullpen and work out cases together, they go out into the field and do interviews, and everything is… okay. They don't talk about what happened the day previous, they don't talk about anything besides their cases. It's still not the partnership- the friendship they had before Victor Gitano spun everything on its head, but it's not the strained, mess of a relationship that it had been recently. It's okay.
The next day is the same. So is the day after, and the day after that.
And before he knows it, he's sitting shirtless on a hospital bed. His arm and hands are completely numb and there's a promise of sitting alone in his apartment for weeks looming over him. He'd been dumb enough to let himself get thrown through a glass window by a crazy bastard high on PCP… he's lucky he didn't fall to his death or take a shard of glass to something far more important than his bicep.
"You don't have to stay, you know," he says, eyes falling on the woman that sits beside his bed. "You can get back to work."
"And leave you all alone?" Olivia says, brown eyes boring into his, small smile on her face. Ever since that morning, the morning that they don't talk about, his heart falters when she looks him in the eye. Maybe it's just his imagination, but he's seen something else in her eyes since then. Something… smoldering.
"They're getting the papers for you to sign, anyway, I'll give you a ride home."
Yeah. It's definitely his imagination.
"Okay."
It takes another hour for one of the nurses to finally get the release papers. In the mean time, Olivia goes down to the shop and buys him a shirt to replace the bloody, torn up green dress shirt that he came in with. Just as she returns, he's sitting up with the nurse, signing his name on a packet of paperwork. When he's finished, he takes the shirt, slides gingerly into it and reaches for his shoes.
The ride back to his apartment is relatively silent. The radio plays softly in the background, Elliot sits in the passenger seat, hands on his knees, eyes locked on the road in front of them.
Olivia walks him up to his apartment. Deep down, he's happy; he's not quite ready to be left to his solitude yet. Inside, he toes off his shoes and tries to shrug off his jacket, but his bicep is beginning to burn. He winces.
"Here, I've got it," Olivia says softly. Her thin fingers slide up his arms and she drags the jacket off of his shoulders.
"Thanks," he mumbles. She sets the jacket on the hook next to the door, then turns back towards him. She's inches from his chest, almost close enough to feel her breath on his face. The urge to lean closer is nearly overwhelming, but he's frozen in place.
They're partners. Don't ruin this. They're partners.
—-
They're partners. Don't ruin this. They're partners.
He's so close to her. His lips are parted, only sightly, if she leans in just a little bit further, he'll feel his breath tickle her skin. If she keeps going, his lips will be on hers. God, that's all she's wanted since their morning together- for his lips to be on hers again. Olivia thought that it was going to be difficult to get over him, she thought that it would take a long while to finally get his naked body out of her head, but now that over a week has passed, she knows the truth. She'll never be able to get him out of her head. She will always want to lay him back down on the bed and take everything he has to offer.
But it's not possible. It's not possible.
She only came up here to help him settle in.
Don't do this.
—-
He only let her up here so he wouldn't be alone for a moment longer.
Don't do this.
His body is moving. Or is it hers? Either way, their lips are growing closer. Her breath smells like peppermint. He needs to taste it on her tongue. He needs to-
Olivia's hand presses against his chest, holding his mouth mere inches from hers. Elliot falls from the trance that he'd been in, the sting of her rejection burning him. He knows she only wants his friendship. He was stupid enough to lean in. They stand there in a heavy silence for longer than he cares to admit. Finally, she whispers, "You gonna be okay here by yourself?"
"I'll be fine," he rasps. His hands fall from her hips- when did he even grab them? "Go to work."
And then she's gone.
Elliot takes a deep breath. He swallows the lump in his throat, then heads towards the bedroom. He's tired. He should get some rest.
—-
Elliot awakens to lips on his and legs straddling his waist. His eyes open slowly, and the first things he sees are her beautiful, deep brown orbs and her dark hair, hanging over her shoulder and partly covering her hooded eyelids. His lower half pangs with arousal; God, she's fucking gorgeous.
"Liv?" he whispers against her lips.
"Shhh," she answers, rolling her hips against his. It's then that he realizes they're both naked and a groan falls from his lips. "It's okay. We can do this."
He doesn't need any convincing. He grabs the back of her head and pulls her mouth back down to his, sliding his tongue against her bottom lip and then into her mouth. Peppermint, he thinks. The flavor of peppermint mixed with her own unique taste… it's intoxicating. She moans into his lips, finding his waiting erection with her hand and fisting it for a moment. Elliot's eyes flutter closed as she guides him to her entrance. He's gonna be inside her again… Fuck, he needs to be inside her again.
Just as he's about to pull her hips down onto him, his eyes snap open.
He's laying on his back in his bed, the light of the late afternoon streaming in through his windows. Olivia's not here. He's alone, completely dressed and his near painful hard-on presses against the inside of his sweatpants.
Fuck. Elliot lets out a shuddering breath, sitting up slowly. That fucking dream… it's not the first time he's had it and he knows it won't be the last. It always ends the same, with him so close to filling her up once again… sometimes he's on top. Sometimes, like just now, it's her. Sometimes it's at his place, or hers, or even in the back of the squad car or in one of the interrogation rooms at the precinct. And it's always bordering on literally painful when he wakes up.
He needs a cold shower.
The water nearly makes him shiver as it pelts down on him, but it does nothing to help cool him off. He can't stop thinking about her body… hot and soft and just absolutely fucking beautiful… what he wouldn't give to just sink into her even just one more time…
Elliot groans into the spray, and his control gives out. With thoughts of a naked Olivia on top of him still drilled into his head, he reaches for his erection.
It's not the first time he comes into his own hand to only the thought of her. And if they keep going like this, it definitely won't be the last.
—-
Elliot lasts a few days before being cooped up in the apartment starts to get to him. His hands are still numb and clumsy, he still holds his right arm gingerly thanks to the wound there, so he knows he can't quite go back to work yet, but he needs to do something.
Olivia texts him once a day or so to check on him. Their conversations are usually short, just a couple of messages back and forth, but it's pretty much the only human interaction that he has besides with his divorce lawyer. He can't wait to throw himself back into his work… dealing with alimony and splitting assets and credit card payments is slowly driving him mad. Divorce sucks… and so does being on the DL.
And then he hears about Olivia's stay in the hospital and the mess that she's trying to sift through. So he pulls on some clothes, grabs his keys and leaves the apartment.
When he approaches her desk, she's sitting with her head in her hand, hair pulled back, bleary eyes staring into her computer screen.
"Thought the joint would be empty."
She looks up at him with that smoldering gaze and smiles. "I thought the doctor said you had to be on house arrest for two weeks."
He smiles back at her, eyes raking over her form. As much as he loves her dress shirts and pants and her makeup meticulously done, he loves seeing her like this even more, in her jeans and simple gray sweatshirt. He'd sit with her all day every day, just like this, if he could. "I can't stay away."
He gives her his questionable advice, the only advice that he can think of to give, and he wishes her well. Olivia tells him to go home, get some rest and enjoy the rest of his time off. So he does. He doesn't enjoy his time off, per se, but he does get a lot rest. Two weeks seem to pass at a snail's pace. Finally, the feeling returns fully to his arm and hands and he's able to go back to work. One of his first cases back is the one against Ryan Bedford. And just as easily as he found himself thrown through the window of the precinct, he finds himself kneeling over the young man, sirens blaring louder as they grow closer.
"Elliot. He's dead."
He didn't mean to kill him. Dear God, he didn't mean to- what did he do wrong? The scene plays out over and over in his head: he chased down the kid. Grabbed him. Blocked a few punches, gave one solid hit and got him on the ground to cuff him. Where did it all go wrong?
He doesn't notice Olivia's hand on his shoulder until it's gone. He talks to Cragen. He talks to the rat, Tucker, who takes his gun and suspends him.
The last time he sees Olivia, she's staring at him with her wide, questioning eyes. Elliot takes back his earlier thought. Being on the DL can't possibly be worse than this.
A/N: Yes, I know this chapter was partly just filler, but more juiciness is next. I promise.