I always say, I always say that it's the last time;
a promise I can't keep.
I always say I'll get a grip and it'll be fine,
but I lie straight through my teeth
One of the benefits of working with Elliot Stabler is that he has the egotistical, rage-driven, detective persona on lock. It allows her a certain freedom to slink into the background as the "good" one in her unit. She finds it comical how quickly she is able to fall into the role of the supportive partner, the one who bends the rules but never outright breaks them, the one who manages to keep a calm, cool demeanor while her colleague can sound off at a moment's notice.
If only they knew.
Smiling to herself, she takes in a mouthful of whiskey, letting out a slight moan as it warms her throat on the way down. God, it's been a week. She was finally feeling like herself again and was doing her best to put Brady Harrison and yet another near-death experience behind her. She wishes more than anything she was granted a moment alone with Harrison. While she felt for the horrors he experienced in prison, she was still, rightfully, pissed off. He tried to ruin her; destroy her life's work and frame her for fucking murder. As she thought about the extent of his plan, she realized he was likely going to have her brutalized in prison just as he had been. A memory from Sealview threatens to take over and she slams back the rest of her whiskey before gesturing towards the bartender for more.
As another whiskey is placed in front her, she shrugs out of her black leather jacket, feeling the familiar heat inside of her start to rise. Taking another sip, she looks up and her eyes connect with a stranger across the bar. She sizes him up quickly. Salt and pepper hair, brown eyes, nice smile. Her eyes flicker to his left hand and see no trace of a wedding band.
Perfect.
And though I try and do it right with my intentions…
Keepin' good, they never break, but I still bend 'em.
'Cause this devil on my shoulder wants to pull me underneath.
She smiles at him as she sips, and looks away as soon as she sets her glass down on the bar top. Strategically, she pushes her hair to one side under the guise of her rubbing the back of her neck. Stretching a bit, she makes sure to grant him a perfect view of her cleavage, a hint of her olive lace bra peeking out of the deep v-neckline of her black tank top. As she looks back up at him, she could see that his eyes were no longer focused on hers…but had traveled a bit south. Got him.
"Need help with that?"
Olivia gasps in surprise as a hand covers hers at the base of her neck, but quickly scowls at the man who takes a seat next to her.
"What are you doing here, Elliot?"
She removes her hand and brings it back down to the bar top, but he makes no such movement.
"I was worried about you. Fin said you didn't look like yourself when you left the office."
She watched as he looked her up and down, his eyes pausing at her chest before meeting her brown orbs.
"Well as you can see, I'm just fine, maybe Fin needs to mind his fucking business. Would you mind taking your hand off of me now?" She grumbles as she shakes off his touch.
Looking back towards the man in front of her, she can see he is now otherwise preoccupied by a rather leggy blonde. Why does she always lose out to fucking blondes?
"Shit." She mutters as she takes another swig of her drink.
Elliot follows her gaze and watches as a middle-aged man gets up, leaving the bar with what appears to be his new companion and it clicks.
"Jesus, Olivia. Is that what you're doing here?" He scoffs.
Her head whips towards him, her dark eyes daring him to judge her further.
"Sorry, choir boy. Not all of us have an easy lay at home."
She watches his face as it turns from shock, to hurt, to anger. His mouth opens, but immediately closes as he lets out a dark chuckle and shakes his head in disbelief. Olivia raises an eyebrow at his response before rolling her eyes and knocking back the rest of her drink. She meets the bartender's gaze and nods, watching as he makes his way over to refill her glass.
"How many of those have you had?" Elliot probes.
"Not enough. Would you like one?"
The bartender turns to Elliot after refilling her glass, who also nods and gets a glass of his own. They drink in silence for a moment, as Olivia grows impatient. She can sense Elliot feeling her out. It's one of those annoying perks of being partners for the past eleven years. Even when she doesn't want to communicate with him, she does. He knows every part of her and can read her body language, her mind, even her silence like no one else. Fuck, she hates him.
"Talk to me, Liv. Tell me what's going on."
Running a hand through her hair, she shakes her head.
"You wouldn't get it and quite honestly I'm not sure I want to explain it to you."
Elliot takes a sip of his whiskey before speaking.
"It's us, I doubt you'd have to do much explaining. What's wrong?"
Exasperated, Olivia huffs out a sigh.
"There's nothing wrong, I'm just angry, ok? I'm fucking upset, that's it."
"That doesn't sound so complicated. Besides, I think I'd know a bit about anger. Ya know, all things considering." He smiles as he looks towards her.
"Not this kind of anger, Elliot. It's not…I don't think…I don't think we need the same things when we're angry." She replies cryptically.
Elliot stares at her, waiting for her to continue. Olivia can feel the whiskey begin to take effect, which only furthers her ire. She had hoped to be halfway home with some meaningless fuck by now, but no. Of course, Elliot had to ruin this.
"I guess…" Elliot begins, "…it depends on what the anger is about, Liv."
I see red,
my blood is boiling and it shows.
When all you are is a weapon,
you shoot 'em down 'til you end up alone.
Aggravated and slightly drunk, she turns around to unleash on him.
"What I'm angry about? Let's see Elliot, what could I possibly angry about? That I almost lost everything this week? No, let's go back a little further. How about being angry at the fact that this job takes so goddamn much from me that I can't manage to enter one single stable fucking relationship? You know what? No, let's go back to the fucking beginning. How about being angry at the fact that my mother decided to keep me only to become a massive drunk because she couldn't stand the sight of me, resulting in setting me up for nothing but a lonely fucking existence that no one seems to understand! How's that?" Olivia shouted.
He watches quietly as her chest heaves, Olivia breathing heavily under the weight of her words. Shaking her head, she finishes off her third and final whiskey and grabs at her jacket. Elliot reaches out and grabs at her before she can make a quick getaway. She looks up at him, her eyes vacant.
"I came here…to get it all out. To feel something other than this rage that is always there, waiting, creeping beneath the surface. You don't get it, Elliot. How could you? When you're angry you need to fucking hit someone, but when I'm angry I just need to fuck someone. Got it?"
Tearing herself from his grasp, she throws cash onto the bar for her drinks, leaving a generous tip for her outburst. She makes it to the doorway before she hears him get up and out of his seat, scrambling his way towards her. The cool night air hits her face, but does nothing to quell what has already awaken inside of her. Deciding against a cab, she turns left, walking in the direction of her apartment. She does her best to ignore Elliot calling her name but comes to a stop when she nearly collides with him as he jumps in front of her.
"Let me take you home."
"I'm good, I'd rather walk."
"Olivia it is twenty-three blocks to your apartment, it is nearly two in the morning and you're drunk. I'm not letting you walk home."
"I'm not your concern, Elliot. Go the fuck home." She orders as she waves him off.
Before she can react, she feels his hand lock around her bicep, the very contact of his grip on her bare skin sending a shiver down her spine. He pulls her back towards his car, opening the passenger side door and all but throwing her into the seat. She goes to argue, but he slams the door in her face and makes his way to the driver's side. As soon as he is in, he closes and locks the door, preventing Olivia from making a great escape. Fuming, she looks over at him, her brown eyes meeting his blue. His fury mirrors hers and she has to look away before he sees right through the anger and down to her arousal. She crosses her arms as Elliot starts the engine and begins driving towards her building. They travel in silence for a few minutes before Elliot slams his hand down on the steering wheel.
"Are we not going to talk about this?" He grunts out.
"About what? Me needing to fuck it out? No Elliot, we most certainly are not going to talk about that."
"That's not what I meant."
"Isn't it though? Come on, Elliot don't insult me; I know you well enough to know it bothers you. Elliot Stabler, the good ole Catholic boy doesn't approve of casual sex and it drives you crazy that I happen to enjoy it." She taunts.
"Is that what you think? That I don't understand that kind of need?"
"No Elliot, I know you don't understand that kind of need. Are you going to honestly tell me that when you're boiling with rage you fuck it out with Kathy? That's a load of bullshit and we both know it."
"That doesn't mean I don't understand the desire."
Interesting, he doesn't deny it.
"If you understand it, then let me out of this goddamn car so I can do what I need to do." She propositions.
"No, Olivia!"
"Why?"
"Because!" He yells, waiving a hand in air.
"Because why?" She shouts in return.
"Because I'm not letting you rage-fuck some random ass-wipe!"
"What do you fucking care Elliot, it's my life!" She cries out, pounding her hand against her chest as to drive her point home.
He pulls up in front of her apartment, and before he can even respond to her she is out of his car and storming up the steps. He watches as she rips open the front door to her building and heads towards the elevators. Throwing his head back against the seat, he kills the engine and takes a deep breath. God, she's got him aggravated. How dare she throw his own sex life in his face? Granted, she wasn't exactly wrong. Whenever Elliot was upset, he made it a habit to take care of himself instead of ask Kathy. She was never one to engage in rough sex and he knew better than to request it.
He groaned as he thought about how Olivia clearly would've enjoyed something like that. A picture of her bent over and moaning his name as he pounded into her mercilessly develops in his head, causing a reaction down below. Rubbing a hand over his face, he looks back towards her building, watching as her bedroom window lights up. He thinks about how she's getting undressed at this moment…possibly getting ready to creep under the covers, and maybe, just maybe…take care of her problem herself?
Well shit.
Will our favorite detectives satisfy their needs? Of course they will, I'm not a tease.
Reviews welcome.
