Song: Beige by Yoke Lore.
Chapter 3- Elliot
6:47 p.m.
Elliot watched as Olivia wrapped her red scarf around her neck and grabbed her wallet and keys in her hands. She had her eyes everywhere but on him. She looked to the wall and then to the small cubby locker and then to her desk as if she was trying to remember not to forget something. He was pretty sure what she was forgetting was the conversation they needed to have.
She hadn't spoken two words to him all day. They caught a date rape that dragged them to Queens to question the victim's college roommate. It had been the longest car ride Elliot had ever experienced in his life, and he did the commute every day.
Why wouldn't she talk to him? She'd never been shy before.
They'd had over an hour of uninterrupted time in the car, and she decided to flip radio stations the whole time like she was a disk jockey. In fact, the only sound she made was a loud scoff when New York Minute started to play on classic rewind.
He'd tried: what do you want for lunch? Do you think the Giants will get another shot at the super bowl? Do you think her roommate really slipped her the roofie?
She'd shrugged at every single question. She wouldn't even talk about the case.
Why wouldn't she talk to him? Maybe this was how Kathy felt.
"You heading out?" he asked as he watched her shut down her computer. She flicked her eyes up and nodded.
"Wanna grab a drink?" he asked as Jo Marlowe's voice rang from the depths of his brain. Olivia had gotten drinks with him all of three times over the last year and a half. Each time Brian Cassidy had been there waiting for him to pack it up and go home to his wife so he could get his hands on Olivia. Elliot didn't even like hard liquor, but he'd kept trying to outdrink Cassidy in hopes it would render the man incompetent.
"Father I have sinned. I don't want another man inside my partner."
"You asking me out Stabler?" she laughed, and out of the five words she decided to speak that day he wouldn't have guessed it would be those.
"Hardly, Benson," he shot back realizing they were on a last name basis. He'd really fucked up.
"I have plans," she said as she began to do the buttons on her coat.
"A date?"
"My mother," she replied as she shot him a small smile.
"I'd be a great reason to cancel on her," Elliot said as he returned her smile.
"Go home to your kids, Elliot," she sighed as she brushed past him. Maybe he wasn't as screwed as he was beginning to think; he was Elliot again.
"Goodnight," he said as he watched her back retreating from him. That parka hid a lot. What was that saying? Ignorance is bliss.
7:15 p.m.
Elliot sat at the local cop bar and nursed on a 3.5% alcohol content beer. He hadn't come to drink, just to sit, but he didn't want to look like a fool without a drink in his hand.
It was Friday night. Lizzie was having a slumber party, and the last thing he wanted to come home to was a bunch of first graders making a muck of his already-messy house. The Stablers always hosted the parties, because all the families knew that the Stabler kids couldn't stay the night anywhere. He didn't understand how parents were comfortable letting their babies stay the night at strangers' homes. Ignorance is bliss.
He considered his watch and decided another minute on the stool might make him a dead-beat. He threw some bills on the bar and packed it up.
When he got in his car, he had every intention of driving to Queens, driving home. Instead, his steering wheel took a hard left towards Olivia Benson's Manhattan apartment.
He told himself he'd drive by her building and then turn back around. Because that made logical sense.
He parked his car. He wanted to see her building from the sidewalk. Then he cracked and approached her door man.
"Olivia leave?"
"Who?" the man said as he eyed Elliot like he was a suspect. Elliot didn't like when the tables were turned.
"Dark hair," Elliot said as he gestured vaguely.
The doorman immediately grinned with recognition.
"Lucky man," he chuckled as he raised his eyebrows to Elliot. Elliot noted that he needed to tell Olivia to move apartments. He narrowed his eyes on the man, and then flashed his badge at him
"I'm her partner and just so you know she's a perfect shot." The man swallowed at Elliot's overtly obnoxious intimidation tactics. Sometimes he couldn't help himself.
"Father I have sinned. I don't want another man looking at my partner."
"Should I buzz you up?" the man asked as Elliot shoved his hands into the depths of his grey coat as he contemplated his answer.
"Yes," Elliot said through a clogged throat. "Buzz me up," he repeated as he clenched his jaw. What was his plan here? Tell her that he had a personal problem with her door man?
She'd allowed him up so when he banged on the door, he did it with confidence.
"I told you I was busy tonight," she said through the crack of the door.
"Let me in," he said as his hands fumbled with the receipt from their deli lunch. Olivia picked at her sandwich like it was going to bite her. He hoped Serena Benson planned on buying her dinner because he knew she'd gone all day without eating.
"I have fifteen minutes before my mother gets here," she said as she swung the door open for him. She had changed clothes. She was wearing black jeans and a champagne colored blouse that brought out the bronze of her skin.
"You're wearing that for your mom?" he asked as he stepped inside and made a beeline for her kitchen. Before today he never would have made that comment.
"I'm wearing it for myself," she said, and he heard her bolt her door. They were locked in.
"Elliot, what are you doing here?" she asked in an annoyed tone as she paced past him and leaned her hip against her kitchen counter. She was leaning against it like she needed it for support. She crossed her arms over her chest like she was waiting for him to confess to cheating on his eighth-grade math test.
"I came to finish my apology; I'm not sure if you noticed but I'd been trying to do that all day."
"I noticed."
"So what? You really didn't want to hear it?" he asked as he searched her face.
"I want you to let it go," she said as she examined her hand like it was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. Anything to not have to look at him.
"You're not mad?" he asked as he took a step towards her.
"Should I be?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. He forgot she was good at her job whether she was on the clock or not. She was working towards getting a confession out of him.
"Christ, Olivia," he seethed as he ran a hand down his face.
"I'm waiting, Elliot," she said firmly, but he could hear how nervous she was behind the words. That composure really did have the ability to slip.
"I just...you know, it was...a lot," he concluded.
"I'm sorry?" she said as she moved off the counter to get more into his space.
"You're a lot," he said as he gestured in her direction. Great going prick, fuck he didn't know when to quit when he was ahead, not that he was ever ahead on this.
"That's not what I meant," he fumbled as he tried to gauge her facial expression. Shock, anger, disgust, about ready to kick his ass and prove to him just what a good shot she was.
"Did you come here so I could ease your Catholic guilt; is that what this is Elliot?" she asked as she evened out her stance and stood directly in front of him. Toe to toe. She really was a ball buster.
He stood in silence for a beat as he tried to sort through what he wanted to say.
"I never considered you as a woman before today, and I wanted to say I'm sorry for that." He swallowed. Her face softened a fraction.
"They really don't teach female anatomy in Catholic school, do they?" she said as she laughed at her own joke.
"Funny," he said through tight lips.
"I just meant…"
"I know what you meant..." she said in almost a whisper. She lifted her eyes to him, and they settled on his eyes slowly like she was dipping only her toes into the water. They both stood there in silence for a minute, it was an odd mixture of comfortable and terrifying.
"You know, when you wouldn't talk to me all day, I was trying to come up with ways to fix that," he said as he looked to his feet.
"Oh yeah? And what did you come up with?" she asked with an air of playfulness in her tone that made him smile. Maybe she wasn't all ball buster after all.
"I could make it even."
"Are you suggesting that you strip down for me in my kitchen," she laughed. He shrugged like maybe he was considering it.
"Elliot, I have no problems identifying that you are a man," she said as she smiled at him, "And besides, some secrets have to remain in this partnership."
Partnership. Olivia was sly at reminding him where his turf was. He'd just suggested he undress in front of her, and he was only half kidding, and she took it upon herself to safely return them to platonic territory. Shouldn't he be the one doing that? He's the married one after all.
"I'm full of them," he said as he glanced back up at her.
"More like full of it," she said as she rocked her shoulder into him as she stepped past him. She'd done it a hundred times since working with him. It was an innocent gesture of comradery, but now it felt like crossing lines. He couldn't bump into her or pat her arm anymore without his mind going there. He wanted her to lean against that counter again so he could imagine bending her over it.
"Father I have sinned. I want to be inside my partner."
"My mother will be here any minute, so you should get going," she said, her voice already heading towards the door to walk him out. He inhaled as he turned to follow her.
"Late dinner?"
"We're just going to grab drinks," she said offhandedly.
"You eat dinner?" he asked, and she looked over her shoulder and smirked like he'd said something funny.
"I had leftovers when I got home."
"The least your mother could do is buy you some pasta."
"She prefers cosmos," Olivia said in a joking tone, but he could tell by the way her eyes fell that her own joke hit her in the heart.
"Olivia…" he said as he reached for her hand. She was about to jerk her hand back but instead she let him grasp it. His fingerprints burned into her palm.
"What are you doing?" she said in a small voice, so small it almost evaded his ears. He was pressed towards her coat rack in her small entryway, and they were standing so close he would feel her breath hitting his neck.
"I just wanted to hold you," he said as his thumb stroked over her knuckles.
"Elli..." the warning began but he cut her off.
"You have my back every day, what's so bad about holding your hand," he said as he drew circles over the center of her palm.
"What did Kathy make for the slumber party?" Olivia said, and Elliot shot his eyes up to her. He'd told her about the party over a week ago; of course she remembered.
"Spaghetti."
"I can't hold your hand because I have to hold my gun, in case someone comes for your head."
"I trust you with my life, you know."
"I trust you with mine," she said as her eyes fell to their hands.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked as he raised her hand to his mouth. "Not your mouth, just your hand," he clarified as he let his lips brush on her knuckles. She sighed and he could tell it was a sigh of resignation. He let his lips trail from her knuckles to the base of her wrist. Her wrist was so small, he was certain he could fit both in one of his fists, hold them above her head and make her come undone. Then he turned her hand over and pressed his mouth against the fleshy pad of her palm. He let his teeth trail just a tad before soothing the skin with his tongue. It was when the moisture hit her skin that he felt her take a sharp breath in. He smiled into her hand. He liked knowing he could get that reaction just from teasing her.
"Do you like the idea of working with Munch?" she whispered.
"Relax Olivia, I'm only kissing your hand," he said as his mouth found her pulse point and god help him, he sucked. Her skin tasted like her lotion and salt, and like something that was purely Olivia. He wished like hell he could move his ministrations up to her neck. Maybe he could? He let his lips go lower on her arm, placing open-mouthed kisses down the length of her forearm, and as he was doing it, he realized this was probably the strangest first kiss any two people had ever had. Seemed fitting for them. She sighed again, or maybe it was a moan. He looked up to see her eyes had closed. They had fluttered like she was resting them from facing some truth. The truth that this was wrong.
He didn't care. Sure he was a man of faith, he was a husband and a father, and he was her partner, but he was also a man, and god help him, he wanted her to know that. He grasped for her waist and turned her into him. His fingers pressed into the curve of her body. He squeezed harder than he should have. He wanted his fingers fused to her skin. He wanted to mark her. He wanted his claim on her, so the doorman, the perverts of the city, the suspects, the colleagues, Brian Cassidy, or any other motherfucker on the street would know not to mess with her.
"Father I have sinned. I am selfish beyond repair."
She wrapped her free hand around his hand that was grabbing her waist. She let her fingernails dig into his wrist as she pulled his hand loose from her and raised his hand between them.
"At least let me make it even," she said as she took his thumb between her lips and challenged him with her eyes. Fuck. His stomach dropped ten floors as her tongue teased him. He took back her control and pulled her bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb as his fingers cupped her chin.
"Careful, Olivia," he seethed.