Summary: 1.0 EO Smut. That's all you really need to know, right?

Elliot's getting ready to go out for drinks with buddies. Olivia get jealous and makes a proposition that Elliot can't pass up. A very smutty weekend ensues.

Author's Note: This is inspired by an old B&B (Bones) fic by the same name. I loved the concept and thought it would fit 1.0 EO so well. I took the concept, but the work is 100% my own.

No Beta. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy!


Olivia walks into the locker room after a long shift to see Elliot changing into something she has never seen him wear before. He looks nice, she thinks. As if he's going out on a date. No. That's not quite right. He's not in date attire; more like bar hopping attire.

Since when does Elliot go to the bars?

She opens her locker, and without making eye contact, she asks, "Big plans tonight?"

"Uh, yeah," Elliot answers nonchalantly, pulling a small bottle of drugstore cologne from his locker and spraying it on his chest. "Some of my old Marine Corp buddies are in town for the weekend. They wanted to go out tonight."

"So you are…" she looks him up and down, eyes narrowed, "going to a club? Aren't you a little old for that?"

He cocks his head and eyes her, brows furrowed. "What's it to you?"

Olivia shakes her head and tucks her lips, looking back into her locker. "Nothing, nothing. I just figured a man in his 40s didn't need to go clubbing on a Friday night. But I guess you did really miss out on a lot in your 20s, you know, with a wife and two kids at home."

She's godding him and she knows it. But she can't help herself. Ever since Elliot has accepted his separation he's been galavanting around the squad room as if he's never been on a date before. Granted, he probably hasn't. Not a real one anyway. One that didn't involve splitting a milkshake, trying to get to second base in the back of a car, and getting Kathy back home before her 10:00 p.m. curfew.

"We aren't clubbing," he answers gruffly. "We are going out for drinks to catch up. What hell has gotten into you?"

Olivia doesn't answer his question, but continues with her snark. "Just remember, no glove; no love. The world doesn't need any more little Elliot Stablers running around."

That's enough to set him off. Elliot slams his locker shut and stomps over to Olivia. She turns, back stiff, as if she's prepared for a fight. He steps up close, getting into her space so that his chest is only millimeters from hers.

She can feel the heat rolling off of him and the strong scent of his cologne fills her nose. It's a comforting smell, one she is familiar with. And it frustrates her to think that some other woman might get close enough to smell it off of him.

Elliot lifts his hands, resting them on the lockers next to her and bracketing her in between his arms. "I've had enough of your holier than thou attitude about my separation Liv. I am a grown man. I don't need your permission or approval to do what I want, when I want."

"And apparently whoever you want, including random women from the club," she spits back.

"Yeah, sure. Whoever I want," he grits out, shaking his head. He holds his position, his arms locking her in his space. His nose flares as if he's deciding what to do next.

Olivia's eyes falter under his intense gaze and flit down and look at his lips, full and pink.

She's so tired of this new, single Elliot who is grumpy and apparently dating everyone in the NYPD. Everyone but her. She knows that she shouldn't feel jealous or possessive. Elliot is her partner, nothing more. He's made that clear by the fact that he's refused to ask her out in the last two years.

She knows that she's being petty though. They can't do anything. Partners can't fraternize outside of the precinct, at least in a romantic sense. It's written in the rules several times and there are enough horror stories passed around the department about partners who got too close and crossed that line. If they, she and him, crossed that line, then they would have to go straight to Cragen and the department's human resources, and even worse, IAB, to fill out all the necessary forms. They would be split up immediately. And there is even a risk that one of them would be transferred to a different department if the NYPD thought that they couldn't work well on the same squad.

Those thoughts are banished from her mind as Elliot bends his elbows, placing those lips right next to her ear so only she can hear what he says next, which is hard to do when his chest is brushing hers. She's certain that he can feel the pounding in her own chest or see her blood rushing through her pulse point.

"What would make you feel better, Olivia? Huh? Would it make you feel better to think that I go out every Friday night, pick up a new woman, bring her back to my shit hole apartment and fuck her all night long? Huh?" he growls in her ear and inhales. She can feel his hot breath washing over her neck. "Or would it make you feel better to know that I haven't had sex in ages. That my balls are so blue because my hand can't get the job done unless I think of the one woman that I want to fuck but can't? Huh? That to get off I have to think of wrapping my hands up in her thick brown hair, or how her bright, round brown eyes would look up at me as I shove my cock down her throat? Or just how fucking right it would feel to slide into and then slam in over and over and over again until she's screaming out my name and I explode? Would that make you feel better?"

Olivia's eyes are closed as she imagines what he's saying. She gulps before she opens them, ready to try to fight back. But she can't say anything when her eyes lock with his. So much is unspoken between them at the moment. Elliot's crossed a line with what he said and he can't take it back.

Olivia breathes in a shaky breath and swallows again, trying to come up with something smart to say back. Elliot doesn't give her a chance, however. His head drops and he turns and walks away, leaving her alone in the locker room.

She collapses onto the bench in front of her locker, practically shaking. She can't believe what he said. Not once, in their eight plus years together has he ever been so vulgar with her, especially never implying that he wants to fuck her, that he jerks off thinking about fucking her mouth.

She can't help herself and thinks about what he said.

What would he taste like? All man and musk? God, it would be so good.

She fans her face to cool the red heat in her checks and grabs her bag, ready to get the hell out here. But as she turns the corner she sees Elliot talking to Fin, laughing about who knows what.

She only has a split second to decide what to do before they see her. She can just walk out and cool off at home, hoping that all returns to normal when they come in Monday morning.

Or.

Or she can match his energy—call his bluff.

Quickly she makes up her mind, stands up tall and walks up to the two men.

Placing her hand on Elliot's shoulder, Olivia leans in and says sweetly, innocently, "El, if you need help with that issue on the Smith case that's been causing you trouble, you know, like we just discussed, just come on over. I should be free all weekend."

Elliot swallows and nods, answering with a dry mouth. "Yeah. Okay. I will."