AN: Okay people, showtime is finally here! Thank you so much for your patience and for all your kind words. X
She wants to shove him – physically.
That's how she feels when their eyes first lock.
She wants to stalk right up to him, plant both hands on the firm wall of his chest and push him until he careens into the glass plate of the veranda door.
She thinks she will have enough leverage, especially if she gets a good run up. He won't be expecting it, it'll catch him off guard – and if she gets enough momentum he may even fall through the plate glass window and onto his ass.
She moves through the bedroom threshold and begins to stalk towards him. He matches her stride until they're about a body length apart. She expects him to launch into a fiery dialogue but he just stands there, staring at her with an unreadable expression, seemingly leaving this entire thing up to her.
"I don't even know what to say," her voice is gravelly.
And it's the truth, because she doesn't.
She's had all that time in the shower to construct coherent sentences but she got so lost in the anger that it left her with little to no articulation.
Screw you.
That's about all she has to say to him but she thinks she will save that for when she really needs it.
"You do realise this is my life now Elliot?" Her voice is low. "This is not some summer vacation or a spring fling and the last thing I need is for you to waltz in here like an arrogant ass and embarrass me in front of my case manager. You wanna play detective versus civilian – fine, but you damn well better start acting like a detective because you can't have it both ways."
A flicker of heat moves through his stare and she can tell he is seconds from launching into his preprepared defence but something switches and instead his lips are lifting upward.
"A spring fling?"
The bastard is actually smiling.
She takes a half step forward, a look of seriousness overcoming her features. "I know this entire thing is just a joke to you but this is my life now, indefinitely - are you understanding that?"
His smile dissipates within seconds.
"Yes I understand that Olivia, I think I understand that better than anyone at this point. I'm not the one who disclosed my real name a week into my relocation to some random guy. So you wanna be pissed at me then fine, but first you're going to have to explain to me how I was wrong in pointing that out."
Her eyes flicker in anger, a tirade of rebuttal sitting ripe on her tongue.
"Just remember," her voice drops an octave or two. "You get to leave when this is done. So the least you can do is not leave a gigantic shit storm in your wake when you go."
She starts to turn away then but he stops her with his words.
"I think you've done a pretty good job of creating one yourself."
She stills in place, shaking her head before she turns around, her lips lifting into her own humorless smile.
"Screw you."
And there it is.
She's glad she saved it.
But she'd said it in a near whisper, without the fury it should have rightfully carried.
"So you're backing your decision then?" He steps forward, his eyes moving pointedly between hers. "To sleep with a stranger, and tell him your real name."
She takes a sharp breath through her nose, internally oscillating between anger and the high road, but the cocky way in which he is looking at her pushes her closer and closer to the edge.
"My choices are my own Elliot." She meets his stare dead on. "And I don't have to defend myself to anyone, least of all you. You know damn well you wouldn't have pulled that crap on a victim or a witness but you did it with me in front of a federal agent. You want to pretend your personal feelings weren't a factor today, then fine - lie to yourself, but if you ever pull that kind of crap again I swear to God I'll have zero hesitation requesting a switch."
His eyes flicker in response to her threat.
"That what you want Liv?" He whispers down at her. "You want some stranger staying here instead?"
He is so close now she can feel the heat of his breath on her face when he speaks.
"If that's what you want then do it, make the call."
He's calling her bluff.
"What I want," her chin juts up to meet his stare, "is for you to start acting like my goddamned partner and not some selfish, arrogant, entitled-"
"Entitled," he cuts her off, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he digests her words. "What exactly do you think I'm entitled to Liv?"
But the way he is looking at her is saying it all.
Entitled to her.
Her chest rises and falls under his heated gaze, his eyes daring her to say it but she will not give him the satisfaction.
"I think you're entitled to be here for a start," she treads carefully, watching the first accusation land. "You requested this," she reminds him in a whisper, her heart rapidly beating beneath her cool exterior. "Not me."
"The only thing I'm entitled to Olivia is the right to have a problem with you risking your life." His voice is low and his stare is firm and the way he is looking at her makes her anger rise to the surface, years of suppression bubbling to the forefront until it has no where to go but out.
"Oh I think you think you're entitled to a lot more than that Elliot," her voice is so low that it practically rasps.
She cannot believe she has voiced it, she knows she is playing with fire but it's the truth - throughout their entire partnership and his marriage there was always an undeniable part of him that had staked his claim over her whether he'd care to admit it or not.
He stares at her silently.
"And what else am I supposedly entitled to Olivia?" he presses, because the bastard wants her to spell it out for him.
In words.
Her chest pounds at the way he is looking at her, his cocky, overbearing demeanour only emphasising her point.
"I think you think you're entitled to comment on who I date," she gives him a look, Porter immediately coming to mind. "And who I sleep with," she throws out. "Lets just say for my married partner you've certainly been plenty vocal when it's come to my personal life."
She lets the accusation dangle in front of him and the rooms slows, she watches her words visibly rattle him, the gravity of what she is saying - the unspoken blame. She knows what she's doing, she's pushing him, prodding him, baiting him, because this is years of pent up suppression and after today the bastard deserves every second of it.
"And yes Elliot," she whispers, her voice impeccably low as she steps forward. "I have sex," her eyes move purposefully between his. "So does the rest of the world so you can leave your Catholic judgements at the door. Just because you chose the white picket fence life, doesn't mean everyone else has to."
His eyes darken immediately and she can tell she's just hit a nerve.
A big one.
"To be clear Olivia," he says through gritted teeth. "Any guy that I've ever had a problem with you dating has turned out to be for good reason and I'm not judging you for having sex, I'm pissed at what it could have cost you. There is a difference."
She blinks back at him coldly.
"Call it what you want but your boundaries have always been shot with me and you know it."
He looks livid, her accusation spanning their entire partnership.
"My boundaries.." he lets out a humorless laugh, scrubbing a hand over his stubble. "Liv if you want stronger boundaries, maybe you shouldn't be inviting me into your bed at night and running my hand over your ass."
She glares at him.
She cannot believe he just went there.
"Seriously Elliot?" She blinks back at him in shock. "I was high as a kite and prior to that I had spent days trying to put the walls up between us - walls that you insisted on knocking down from the minute you waltzed in here so don't you dare give me that. I didn't drag you out here and I'm certainly not making you stay."
She steps away from him then but he is too quick clutching her bicep, and tugging her back to his side.
"Then make the goddamn call Olivia," he rasps against her ear. "Stop talking about it and just do it."
She yanks herself out of his hold and it's seconds before she is ramming him hard enough that he falls backwards, the wooden glass frame vibrating loudly beneath his weight.
She watches it play out, shock moving through her at the power that had just overtaken her.
The door hadn't shattered behind him thankfully, but he was looking at her in disbelief as if it had.
He blinks back at her, both of them breathing rapidly in shock, her adrenaline spiking. She watches something flicker in his eyes, suddenly the line between anger and desire is dancing dangerously close.
Jesus.
She needs to leave.
Or he does.
Otherwise this will either end with them killing each other or fucking it out.
Her body is still on fire from the way he'd grabbed her, his throaty voice rasping in her ear. She is overthrown by the heat surging through her veins and she wants to step forward and shove him again just so she has an excuse to touch him.
"I need you to go," she whispers, but it's barely audible.
A wave of silence permeates the room before he slowly lifts his weight off the door, the sound rattling behind him.
She doesn't trust herself now, not when he is a few inches away from her all riled up and drinking her in like that.
"No," he tells her simply and her eyes flit up to meet his.
"Elliot," she warns.
She can tell by the way he is looking at her that she has zero chance of making him leave, she thinks he's going to step forward and eliminate all the space between them. She has visions of him grabbing her, backing her up against the edge of the couch, sealing her lips with his and driving his tongue into her mouth and dear God in heaven she doesn't think she'll have the strength to refuse him if he does.
"Go," she rasps firmly. "Now."
He steps forward, his eyes moving intently between hers.
"You can be pissed at me all you like," he whispers down at her. "But I'm not going to let some petty pride war take away from the fact that a knife missed vital organs by mere inches leaving you milliseconds from death and I'm sure as shit not going to risk that happening again just because you're pissed I called you out on one lapse in judgement. You have five men after you Olivia, five - and I get that you were stripped of your badge and your life and everything you'd spent decades working towards and it fucking sucks - but I'm not going anywhere so don't ask me again."
He is close again, too close and she is too overthrown by his body heat now, their proximity, his words, the look in his eyes, his refusal to leave, the fact that this argument is irreversibly shredding decades of restraint, unravelling them within seconds. She isn't ready to face hidden truths, she cannot process this can of worms that should never have been opened.
She needs to stop this.
Now.
"My whole life is on display out here," she whispers back at him. "And I don't need my case agent breathing down my neck anymore than he already is, so if you're going to play the power card and refuse to leave then we need ground rules." A few beats pass, her heart hammering before she says it. "Whatever is going on between us." She gives him a serious look. "Whatever this is, it stops here."
Her eyes are still moving between his when she sees her demand land.
"You sleep out here, I'll sleep in there, you keep your distance and I'll keep mine. Are we clear on that?"
She expects another refusal or a smart ass remark, only this time he is simply watching her, biting the inside of his cheek in cocky contemplation as if he thinks this request of hers is debatable.
She doesn't wait around then, instead she takes the pause in conversation to step back from their unyielding proximity and she somehow manages to make it to her bedroom door.
She turns around at the threshold because she isn't going to go another ten rounds with him without a truce first.
"Are we clear Elliot?"
He blinks back at her from across the room, still standing in the same spot she left him.
"So you're asking me to keep my distance in a one bedroom cabin where it's my job to never let you leave my sight?"
His sarcasm is evident.
"Yes," she says through gritted teeth.
A few beats pass before he says it.
"Good luck with that."
Asshole.
She narrows her eyes before she moves through the threshold and slams the door behind her.
She lets out a breath on the other side.
She can still feel the tension pulsating through her body, the anger, the desire, the way he had looked at her, his firm body as she'd pushed him up against the door. She hadn't really meant to push him - she had wanted to, but she didn't actually think she'd do it.
She doesn't know whether to feel guilty or smug about it - or both.
Good luck with that.
Smug.
She is definitely going with smug.
She makes a beeline for her sneakers, slipping them onto her sock-less feet before she is stripping off her sweatshirt. She is left in just her black tank and leggings before she is moving through her open bedroom window and dropping down onto the grass below. She starts into a slow jog before quickening the pace, intent on moving into the leafy expanse because she needs to expel this overwhelming energy that had just flooded her body and there was only one place she could go.
Into the woods.
TBC
AN: Okay so it looks like there might be a second 'showtime' coming when he realises she's gone rogue.. lol would love to know what you think.