A/N-I'm not happy with this chapter and I personally feel like it could be better but I'm getting so exasperated with this story and myself. It also doesn't help matters that I'm starting to feel Mr. Writer's Block knocking on creativity's door, so I'm going to try and wrap this story up with the next chapters. Anywho...sorry for bitching about my problems. Have fun reading and thanks for all of the supportive reviews.

I'm beginning to hate Elliot Stabler for making me carry him up fifteen flight of stairs, (He refused to use the elevator because he claimed "the slight vibrations would make him throw-up" like he was two-year-old.) having to support his lazy ass as he nearly fell on top of me as we finally reached the room we were sharing together, and having to clean up his vomit after he failed to reach the bathroom in time.

After cleaning up the floor the best I could, I grabbed Elliot off the floor and tried to gently place him onto the bed closest to the bathroom and the door. Even though I wanted that bed (and had declared it mine by putting my bags on it earlier) I knew it would be best to let El' have it in order to not risk getting covered in semi-digested food and bile during the middle of night when he would inevitably trip on the corner of the bed to get to the bathroom.

Just like I used to do with my mother, I proceed to take Elliot's shirt, pants, shoes, and socks off his body. I can't decide whether to take his boxers off also but with two yanks Elliot makes the decision for me and proceeds to cover himself with the sheets of the bed.

"Oh my," My throat closed after seeing even the briefest glimpse of Elliot's penis. As I tried to avert my eyes from the sight like a bunch of teenagers watching a home pregnancy video I can't help but feel ashamed at my reaction. Even a brief glance at Elliot's flaccid friend was enough to make my legs quiver expectantly. "Aren't you kind of cold like that?"

With a frown and a slight squint over his shoulder, Elliot looks me over like a Picasso. "I wouldn't be if you came in here with me."

"Or, second option, I could just turn the thermostat up. It does feel like they've got it set to sixty in here," Elliot quickly lifts his body up from the bed and, with a slight wobble after moving his drunken brain too quickly, he grabs my trembling hands. "Elliot…I'm not going to be your mommy and watch over you while you're passed out drunk. I have to catch up with some people downstairs."

"Screw that, 'Liv. You know as much as I do that you hate going to these stupid gatherings every year so stop trying to be the social butterfly we both know you'll never be. It's not becoming," Elliot groans slightly and moves his head back toward the pillow. "Fuck…my head is one step away from exploding. Help me out here, 'livia."

"Help you? I'm not going to alleviate your punishment for drinking too much. I don't understand why you even do this in the first place, Elliot. Every time we come to one of these things you always, without fail, get drunk and spend half of the weekend sleeping off a hangover while I'm forced to watch you sleep it off. Why don't you just stay home instead of going to these things? Is getting drunk without the disappointment of your wife and kids so exhilarating to you, Elliot? If it is then you're just as sick as the people we collar every day."

Elliot lifts himself to his elbows and looks at me furiously before crumpling back to the bed. I know I shouldn't be interrogating Elliot like some common criminal but I'm tired of all of this going indecision between what is right and wrong. I need him to react to this unrequited attraction that I have for him. I don't want to run away with him and live in a fantasy but something has to change. I'm slowly falling apart and, if Elliot's drinking isn't a sign, so is he. I hate seeing him drink himself into these stupors without at least knowing the reasoning behind it.

"You want to know why I act this way, Olivia," Elliot gives a shaky sigh before trying to continue. "I can't describe it, 'Liv. Being around you reminds me of all those times with Kathy before we started fighting about diaper brands, baby formulas, and how to balance grades with athletics. And I can't have that, 'Liv. You don't know what it's like to dread waking up in the morning because you know that you're trapped between a love that never existed but feels like it's been there all along and a love that's falling apart quicker than I can put it back together."

Now I'm really starting to hate Elliot. Why does he think he's so high and mighty compared to everyone else? I've felt more pain in my life than he could ever know how to deal with; from my emotionally nonexistent mother being raped by a father that committed suicide to my current obsession with men that are unavailable, my life is one big billboard for fucked up. I know my mouth is opening and closing like a fish with no air but I can't stop it. I'm literally shocked silent by Elliot's sudden deluge of turmoil.

Elliot crosses his right hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry…I shouldn't have let this all on your shoulders. I'm sure you have your own problems."

"It's alright, El'. I've been thinking about us a lot lately also," I chuckle before sitting down on the bed beside him. I can't control my hand from moving out to his sheet covered leg and I feel myself smiling after my fingers experience his slight shiver in response. "I didn't know you felt so strongly about all of this. I would have brought it up sooner instead of letting it build up like this."

"No, even if you brought it up sooner I wouldn't have been ready to talk about it."

The silence sets in between us.

Through the cheap fabric of the hotel sheets I can feel Elliot's left hand start to flow toward the thigh where my hand still resides. Slowly his hand moves between and suddenly I find myself grasping onto Elliot's hand through the rough barrier of the cheap sheets. God, if this hotel had spent a little more money on the details I would be able to feel every nuance of his palms but instead I'm forced to focus on the scratchy burlap quality of every stitch in these sheets. The silence between us continues to extend as every breath he gives evaporates from the air and rains into my ears. Our bodies start to subconsciously shift toward each other in preparation the rustling of the wind battering the windows melds with the rustling of the bed as more weight is put onto its springs.

We haven't even done anything yet and it feels like I'm already in the climax of an extremely good movie. Elliot takes his left hand from off his eyes and for the first time I'm able to see not just my partner or my best friend looking at me but also the soul of a man who wants to do this as much as I do. I need to hear him say it. "Elliot, you realize what you're doing to me, don't you because if you don't want this to happen then I can just go downstairs and pretend this never happened before you make a mistake."

"Olivia?"

"Yes?"

His eyes narrow in my direction for the second time. "Do you think that this will be a mistake?"

"I don't know, Elliot. I've wanted this for so long that finally acting on it just seems so blasé," I sigh knowing my idiotic mumblings aren't helping me or Elliot understand the thoughts that I have wanted to express to him for so long. "I spent so long wanting you to want me that the idea of it happening is just crazy to me that I just can't help but think about…the repercussions."

"You mean Kathy and the kids, don't you?" Elliot's left hand stops stroking my hand through the sheets. As he turns his head away from me I notice his eyes stopping toward the vibrating stack of clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor. We both knew who was calling and just the thought of her…my stomach clenched with a vice grip and tears flowed into my eyes as if my emotional levees had broken into a million pieces. I find myself leaning forward trying to regain some kind of a connection with Elliot. This isn't fair, never have I ever wished the death of another woman like I did at that moment.

"El', please don't shut down on me. I've been waiting for so long for some resolution of this thing going on between us and I don't think I can make it if you just turn away now. We need to figure this out, together," After hearing the phone begin that annoying vibration rhythm for a third time, I grab the phone out of Elliot's pants pocket and turn it off. "We don't have to talk about Kathy or the kids but it's always going to be there, underneath the surface of every touch, caress, or kiss between us. You're married, nothing can change that."

He looks back at me and moves his right hand toward the remaining inches of space between us. Elliot's other hand resumes its conversation through the sheets to my own hand and I release a breath that I didn't even know I was holding.

"At this point, I honestly don't give a rat's ass about Kathy or what my kids will think. I need to do this with you and yeah, it may not be right, but the need is overwhelming the morality right now," Elliot's right hand grasps the remaining inches of sheet before continuing. "Infidelity is wrong but so is sitting around feeling like I'm trapped between a constant war between want and responsibility. If you want to choose the moral highroad than I'll pretend what we've done together never happened and drink myself to an early grave but I can't keep sitting in the middle, Olivia. I've made my choice; I want this, I want you for this one weekend. I don't want to run away to Vegas with you, I just want to get this feeling to go away."

A small part of my soul died after hearing him say those words. The realist side of myself kept telling me that Elliot would never abandon his whole livelihood for me but the romanticist just wouldn't let the dream of me and Elliot walking down the aisle, covered by a wave of happy energy released by everyone at the precinct, and a never ending hurricane of rose petals.

I know that Elliot's thinking is rational but I don't want to be rational with him but I also don't want to bite the hand that's feeding me so I'll take this one weekend over nothing at all.

"I don't know if I can be that one-night stand that you come to when you're drunk, Elliot."

He laughs so loudly that I'm worried that the other occupants of the rooms will come knocking on the door soon. "You're hardly a one-night stand and I'm hardly drunk, 'Liv. I' sure as hell tipsy but I'm absolutely not drunk."

I laugh briefly and, for the second time, an awkward silence develops between us as our hands continue a private conversation. Elliot's right hand slithers across the sheets and starts playing with my fingers. I can't help but wonder if he's asking or practically begging me to reciprocate his advances. Every touch is light and miniscule but demands my entire attention. I realize that Elliot's still trying to give me a way out by not pushing the envelope yet but I don't want a way out.

As I grab his hand from its trek up my arm I clench his hands before he has the wherewithal to remove them from my grasp and smile at him. I don't want to speak to ruin this moment between us and he smiles back at me in return. This is it. It may not be everything I wanted but having Elliot all to myself for three days is bliss compared to sleeping beside him without the possibility of any touching except for the accidental touch here and there. There would be no turning back from this but I know Elliot would be right there beside me to weather the storm. I've got his back and he's got mine.