A/N-Hello, readers/reviewers/random wanderers of SVU fanfictions. Another chapter for all of you to, hopefully, enjoy. Thanks for reviewing and reading.
Elliot Stabler, the man that takes my breath away in the morning and gives it back to me when I fall asleep. He's everything a woman could want; he's attractive, intelligent, and undeniably strong physically and emotionally. A common day prince of New York City (with a slight anger-management problem but he's getting help for that…supposedly), men and women regularly flaunt themselves at him in an effort to get his attention (which would have worked if he wasn't such a prude). Elliot is never fazed though. If anything these unrequited potential love affairs thrown his way just seemed to solidify his marriage to Kathy.
I had always thought that Elliot was a relative prude but apparently that isn't the case when it comes to mildly attractive blondes like Dani Beck. Bradley told me about the supposed affair between the two of them when I was getting dressed after that one Wednesday of required release and I remember feeling relieved for Elliot and frustrated for myself. If I had been in New York City instead of traipsing around the Oregon countryside with eco-terrorists and Porter right at my heels Elliot would have done those things with me and not Dani "Ms. Convenient" Beck.
To anyone else with an unrequited love affair the idea of the love interest in question being intimate with someone else would be blasphemous but to me it was a sign that I had finally cracked through his seemingly impenetrable armor of fidelity to Kathy. Their casual fling was just a reaction to his unrequited love for me, obviously.
This all made total sense when I thought about it at two in the morning after a heavy therapy session with the Haagen-Dazs® and some Cadbury® Eggs. I don't actually believe that though. When I am alone in my bed, staring at some idiotic movie about ghosts falling in love with the spirit of an eighteen year-old girl, and gorging myself on heart-attack causing comfort food, I can't help but feel that Elliot loves me secretly but when I'm actually in my right mind the idea evaporates. I end up just feeling like that needy workaholic with no personal and professional boundaries and that scares me.
If there's one thing my drunken mess of a mother taught me it was to never be needy, never depend on anyone else but yourself. I don't even know if I can possibly want anyone else to want me as much as I want him to want me. But what did that want entail? The obvious answer of sex was a given but my craving for Elliot is so much more than a simple one-word answer. My constant craving was intertwined in a gamut of emotions ranging from obsession, lust, anger, hate, disgust, and need. I found myself obsessing over every word he expressed, lusting after his body, angered over the fact that Kathy had what I could never have, disgusted at myself for constantly waking up in a cold sweat with only one thought on my mind, and needing his ability to understand the job I constantly give myself too. Everything made sense except the need.
Half of the men and women in this conference want me to fuck them senseless in some manner or other so why did this obsessive need arise with Elliot? All of the people here were involved in law enforcement in one or another, the idea of needing Elliot exclusively was so idiotic that I could feel my hands crumple into fists in preparation to hit something every time it crossed my mind. Anyone else could easily take his place as my sexual partner for one of the three days they were forced to stay here but I find myself not wanting anyone else. I want Elliot or bust.
"'Liv, did you hear me," Elliot taps my forehead and moves his hand up to my hair and lightly tousles it (I hate when he does that. He has no idea how much effort goes into styling it every morning when your hands are shaking from another dream about him.). "I just said have you seen the bar they've got at this place? I can't believe the city put the money up for this conference to be held here and can you believe they're footing the bill for the rooms too! Wow, remember last year when they put us in the place near one PP and everyone was too scared to even try to do anything crazy. Except Frank, you remember that transfer from Jersey; I think that was his name, Frank Obscetti? I still laugh when I think about the amount of girls' phone numbers he must have lost after they saw that tattoo we made him get. But overall that was a boring year wasn't it?"
"What? I'm sorry; I have no idea what you're talking about, Elliot."
"I asked you to marry me. Will you say yes?" Is he joking? I'm this close to passing out in a cold sweat and the awkward silence hovers around the two of us like a dog with separation anxiety.
Was Elliot serious? I'd gladly accept Elliot's bigamy in order to become his wife…even if it was just a joke. "How many glasses of free Baileys have you been drinking, Elliot? It must have been an awful lot to even jokingly put that question out there since you have a wife last time I checked. You better sober up because I don't like sleeping in the same room with men that are tipsy even if they are my roommate for the duration of this god-for-saken trip into Cops-R-Us."
"Come on…let's be little bit more positive about this trip. You might have more fun if you weren't so fucking tight all the time."
I can't believe he's saying this right now. I'm "so fucking tight all the time" because I can barely focus on anything but the fantasies of the two of us playing hopscotch in my mind all day, every day. "Elliot. Honestly, you have no idea why I'm so tight all the time."
"Then tell me. We're partners aren't we? Why won't you share anything with me? Why can't you just let me…help you," With the slight twitch of his lips in the upward direction, I know the fight is lost trying to stay mad at him. "I know some pretty good techniques for relaxing the opposite sex if you're interested. You know what Kathy calls my fingers after we've finished having sex?"
"For godssakes, Elliot, I don't want to know about your sex life with your wife of all people. Why do you always do this with me? After knowing me for how long you still act like I don't even feel anything for-"
"Woah…I was just having fun, 'Liv. I'm sorry, okay. I didn't know my jokes were such a big deal to you. I'll stop, promise. But…what about my earlier question," While saying this I can feel his hand lowering from my head to take up residence on my shoulder. "About marrying me? Let's say I were to divorce Kathy and leave the kids so you and me could run off together, make our own family of little Benson-Stablers…what would you say then?"
"Fuck you, Elliot." In a weak effort on my part I try to remove his hand from my shoulder but end up failing pathetically and moving his hand closer to my left breast than it was before.
"Come on, 'Liv. Don't tell me you've never pictured what our littlies would look like if we ever decided to give into our desires. Our first kid would be a boy; your hair, skin tone, and my body. God…we would make some fucking hot babies wouldn't we, Olivia," He chuckles and I can smell the Irish Crème rolling from his breath like an avalanche before crashing into my face. I find myself wanting Elliot even more now (irony). The dangerously stupid side of my mind can't help but feel an obsessive need to keep Elliot like this; drunk, reckless, and only for me. I want to believe that Elliot would never risk getting this hammered in front of anyone else but…I just can't. If I were to let myself believe that insanity, the last vestige of hope I have left in my soul to ignore this attraction to him would be worthless. It's kind of hard to pretend like you don't love someone when your heart has already made its mind up that it does.
"Elliot…you're going to regret everything you've just said to me in the morning, you know that right? Let's get you to bed before you start playing this game with someone else. Lean on me, okay?"
I roll my eyes in annoyance as he nearly falls over in his efforts to stand by my side. Elliot always plays this game with me (excluding the getting drunk part) when he gets bored. When the perps aren't talking and Cragen leaves, Elliot starts to get "friendly" with me by starting out with innocent teasing and then, if enough time has passed, he starts touching me. There's no other way to describe it as his hands start trailing from my shoulder and begin the slow as molasses trek to my thighs. He's never gone farther than that…yet. It's only a matter time until he does. It's only a matter of time till I let him.