They were closing in on hour six of the stakeout. Cragen had received a tip about a perp they had been searching for, and she and Elliot had drawn the proverbial short end of the stick. To be honest, she wasn't upset if it meant spending extra time with him, especially lately.
Things had been different since he and Kathy had separated six months ago. Nothing had happened yet, but she felt the tension between them growing...something she really didn't think was possible. Now it was approaching midnight, she was beginning to get tired, and the smell of his aftershave was making it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand.
He kept stealing glances at her, mesmerized by the way the moonlight through the trees cast dancing shadows across her face. No one should look this good after a 14 hour work day he thought to himself. A few months ago he would have said a prayer of confession after such a thought - a silent plea to the God he so devoutly served to forgive him this weakness. Since he had moved out though, well, those glances didn't seem so harmful. In fact, sometimes they were the best part of his day.
Hoping to stave off sleep a little longer, she reached into her purse and fumbled around until she found the granola bar and banana she had shoved in there a few hours ago. "That looks good," he said, eying the food enviously.
"Luckily for you, your partner always has your back," she replied with a wink as she pulled another granola bar out of her purse. "We can split the banana," she said. Her long fingers began peeling the fruit, and he was suddenly jealous of the produce being undressed by her delicate hands. Silently they eat while keeping their eyes on the house across the street, willing themselves to stay awake and alert.
After finishing off his snacks he reached for the radio dial, the soft music filling the space between them. It's a classic rock station playing one of her favorite Fleetwood Mac songs, and she begins to hum softly to herself. "I've always loved Stevie's voice," she said between bites. He grinned, imagining her as a teenager. He could picture a room covered in old band posters and a collection of records in the corner. "She's a legend," he replied, causing her to grin in turn. "Got a favorite?" she asked. He thought for a moment before answering. "I always liked Landslide for some reason. You?" He watched as the grin on her face transformed into a smile. "That was always my favorite, too," she said quietly.
There was a brief silence between them before the familiar strains of Brown Eyed Girl cut through the quiet, and he sent up another silent prayer of thanks for Van Morrison. "Now this song...this song is impossible not to sing along to," he laughed. Since the day they met, when he looked into her impossibly dark brown eyes for the first time, this song had taken on new life. It was no longer about a nameless, faceless woman. It was about her. Those same eyes that he pictured every time he heard this song were now staring back at him, crinkled nose and a big grin beneath them. "Are you sure it's impossible? Because it might be better if you…"
Too late.
Hey, where did we go?
Days when the rains came
Down in the hollow
Playin' a new game
Laughin' and a-runnin', hey, hey
Skippin' and a-jumpin'
In the misty morning fog with
Our, our hearts a-thumping and you
My brown-eyed girl
And you, my brown-eyed girl
He was not a good singer to begin with, and he was exaggerating his inability in an effort to make her smile. It made him happy to see that it was working.
"Stabler...all that singing in church and you aren't any better than that?" she laughed, but he just grinned and said, "Shhhhhh, this is my favorite part."
Do you remember when we used to sing?
Sha-la-la, la-la, la-la, la-la, la-la tee-da
Just like that
Sha-la-la, la-la, la-la, la-la, la-la tee-da, la-tee-da
He warbled out the tune like a sick cat, and laughter erupted from her. "Please! Make it stop!" she joked, which only made him sing louder.
So hard to find my way
Now that I'm all on my own
I saw you just the other day
My, how you have grown
Cast my memory back there, Lord
Sometimes I'm overcome thinking 'bout it
Making love in the green grass
Behind the stadium with you
And suddenly, the words weren't just words. They held a truth that neither of them had ever admitted to themselves- she was his. Even when she wasn't. Even when she couldn't be. And that realization became the catalyst. She moved quickly, surely, grabbing the lapel of his coat and pulling him closer before she placed her lips firmly against his. The singing stopped, and in its place his lips moved with hers, transitioning from song to dance effortlessly.
When she finally pulled away, he looked at her in disbelief. "What was that for?" he asked breathlessly. "Just couldn't take another verse," she said playfully, then grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Guess I need to serenade you more often," he replied, gently rubbing her knuckles with his thumb as his eyes turned back to the house across the street.
