Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.

Author's Note: Unless specifically noted, none of my stories tie in to each other. The scenarios in any previous story apply just for that story. In other words, pretend like we are wiping the slate clean and starting over when I write a new story, cool?

He made sure to keep his breaths short and controlled so as not to startle his opponent. His eyes were narrowed in intense concentration as he clenched his weapon tightly in his hands, silently creeping up closer.

He was close enough that he could reach out and touch his target. Holding his breath, he aimed and fired.

Smack!

Fin Tutuola jumped when he felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck. He whirled around quickly in his chair.

"God damn it!" he shouted angrily, glaring up at his partner.

John Munch scowled and shook the rolled-up piece of paper that he held in his hands. "I told you not to move!" he cried. "Thanks…there it goes again."

The fly buzzed angrily past John's head and disappeared in the folds of one of the files on Olivia's desk. He had been chasing the annoying thing for twenty minutes, trying to kill it…or maybe it was the one currently perched on top of his computer that he had been chasing…or perhaps the one buzzing around the coffee station.

It was only 10 am and already the temperature outside was hovering near eighty degrees. Early April had made its presence known with an unusual heat spell that took the citizens of New York City by surprise, and as usual, the fine city maintenance workers had programmed every building in the area to prepare for a blizzard until almost freaking June.

The 16th precinct was no exception. The thermostat had been preset at seventy-five degrees and was roasting the occupants inside. It only got worse the higher up the floors went….and of course the Special Victims Unit was on the twelfth floor of the sixteen story building.

Every window in the squad room had been opened and fans were positioned in every corner, but it did little to relieve the detectives working inside.

Olivia Benson had a file folder in one hand and was fanning herself while she wrote a report with the other. Her hair was thrown up into a haphazard ponytail and secured with a rubber band that she had taken from her partner's cup of pens. Strands not long enough to be pulled back were soaked with sweat from the back of her neck.

Elliot Stabler sat across from her, working on his own stack of reports. The pen he held kept slipping because his hand was so sweaty. He had taken off his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his red dress shirt, unbuttoning the top button. Sweat was beaded on his upper lip and eyebrows and soaked his back through the heavy cotton.

They had at least five empty water bottles strewn on the desk between them, and Elliot was working on a sixth as he wrote. The plastic crinkled in his hand as he sucked the contents of the Aquafina bottle down greedily.

Olivia looked up in annoyance. Her partner paid no attention, sucking harder on the plastic pop-up top. The bottle made a loud crackling sound as he drained the last drops.

She threw her pen down in irritation. "Do you have to do that?" she snapped.

He looked at her in surprise, prying his lips from the top. They produced a sucking noise, which only irritated her more.

"Do what?" he asked, tossing the bottle into the pile littering their desk.

"Make so much noise when you drink!" she exclaimed. "Jesus, Elliot…you drink water louder than a dog does."

"Well, excuse me!" he shot back. "I didn't realize my drinking water was one of your hundreds of pet peeves, Olivia."

"Cut it out, you two!" Cragen said sternly as he stepped out of his office. "I mean it…if I hear one more word out of you, both of you will be on desk duty for the rest of the day."

He watched them silently resume working and sighed. The heat had the entire squad on edge. Tempers were short and patience was thin, especially his. Usually, he could tolerate immature sniping from his detectives, but today he was at his limit.

Surprisingly, the two he would have normally expected to be throwing stones at each other were working quietly. It was the "dynamic duo", as they were infamously nicknamed, that seemed to be at it today.

Fin got up and went over to the file cabinet, removing several folders before sticking one inside and shutting it again.

The phone on his desk rang as he was walking back, and Munch reached for it.

"Special Victims Unit," he answered. "Detective Munch."

Olivia finished the report she was writing and pushed it aside, running a hand through her short ponytail. The rubber band holding her hair up suddenly snapped as she pulled at her hair. It landed on top of Elliot's file. He rolled his eyes and flicked it to the floor.

"Shit," she muttered.

She reached across the desk and poked through Elliot's cup of pens, finding nothing. Pushing away from the desk, she crouched down and opened a desk drawer in search of a rubber band.

"Aw, MAN!"

Her cry of disgust caught her partner's attention, making him look up. She had a look of repulsion on her face as she looked down inside the desk drawer.

"What?" he asked.

Olivia wrinkled her nose and gingerly pulled out a stack of papers. A dark, sticky substance was all over it.

"What the hell is that?" Fin asked, as he came past her on his way back to his desk.

She held the stack up with two fingers and tossed it down on top of the desk.

"That," she said in disgust, "would be the Hershey bar that I was looking for last week."

Elliot laughed, earning a glare from her.

"What are you laughing at, Stabler?" she asked edgily. "These are your files…I put them in my desk that day we were so swamped, remember?"

The amusement flooded from his face. "Crap," he said, reaching for them. He pulled the papers onto his side of the desk and peered at them, trying to figure out what they were. "Maybe they're not import-"

The date on the top caught his eye and made him groan. "Of course," he said angrily. "These would have to be the case notes for the hearing tomorrow." He was a key witness in a rape case set to be heard the next morning, and Assistant District Attorney Casey Novak had given him the notes to look over.

Getting to his feet, he headed for the bathroom to get a damp paper towel.

Cragen stepped out of his open office door again. "Alright, who's catching?"

"We are," Munch and Olivia said simultaneously. They looked at each other in surprise.

Elliot came back into the room with a wad of paper towels in his hand. The captain caught a glimpse of his desk and made an appalled face. "What the hell-?" Then he shook his head. "Forget it. I don't even want to know."

"It's our turn," Munch was saying. "You guys just finished the Ramirez case."

"That was two days ago," Olivia argued, "and you guys caught the rape homicide on 35th while we wore working that case."

"Dude, we were there for like two minutes," Fin interjected. "That doesn't even count."

Elliot looked up as he was gently wiping the papers. "What the hell does that mean?" he asked Fin incredulously. "Are you keeping a tally now or something? If so, then it's definitely our turn…we spent over five hours combing through those surveillance tapes."

Olivia turned her head toward her partner. "What do you mean 'we'?" she asked, snidely. "I don't remember your ass sitting in the cramped store room rewinding a hundred video cassettes."

If looks could kill, she would have been dead and buried. "Excuse me?" he asked. "I watched just as many tapes as you did, Olivia."

"Oh, yeah," she said sarcastically. "Until you conveniently remembered that someone still had to interview the hotel clerk. I'm sure it was just a coincidence that it just happened to be in the only room in the whole building with working air conditioning, right?"

He looked at her in shock. "I can't believe you!" he cried. "You are so full of-"

"Alright, that's enough!" Don bellowed angrily. They jumped, having forgotten he was standing there. He pushed past Fin to stand in between the two desks. "Shut up-all of you!"

The four of them fell silent. "You guys have three seconds to grow the hell up before I suspend every one of you… do not push my buttons today," he snapped. "I don't care who caught the last damn case…everyone go to this one."

Elliot pushed his sleeves down and began buttoning his shirt back up. Munch walked toward the door, followed by Fin. Cragen held out files for each of them as they passed him.

"Dead prostitute on 15th Avenue," he said, glaring at each detective individually as they left. "The M.E. is expecting you….thank you." Elliot brought up the rear. He gave the captain an exasperated look as he took the file from him and followed after the others.

"I'm driving," he heard Munch say as the four stopped to wait for the elevator.

"The hell you are," Fin fired back as the doors opened and they stepped inside.

Cragen rolled his eyes and turned back around toward the squad room. He pulled at his collar uncomfortably and sighed. It was going to be a long day.