FIC: Tainted [SVU; Alex/Elliot]
Title: Tainted
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Pairing: Alex/Elliot
Rating: R
Originally Posted: February 2004
Word Count: 1138
Summary: Post-Execution fic, Elliot feels guilty and finds someone to take his anger out on. And, in the process, gets more than he bargained for.
Tainted
**
The bar was mostly empty. Patrons scattered across the various stools and tables.
Elliot Stabler sat in a booth furthest from the door. Hunkered down in his seat, tie loosened from his neck, the top button on his shirt undone. This wasn’t the usual cop bar that he hung out. This was the loner’s bar. Where wallow in their misery, and drink, unabated.
He didn’t notice the door to the establishment open, just the unnatural turn of heads as eyes moved from the bottom of glasses to the vision walking into the bar. Elliot raised a slight eyebrow at Alexandra Cabot. She sat down across from him.
“How’d you find me?”
“You’re not the only person with expert investigative skills,” she quipped with the slight rise of an eyebrow. “I asked Munch.”
“How’s Huang?”
“He’ll live. Slight concussion. The doctor’s are keeping him overnight for observation but, other than a bitch of a headache, he’ll be fine.”
Elliot didn’t budge. Continued staring at the hand wrapped around his half empty glass; the half empty glass next to the half empty pitcher. Half empty, half full, neither absolved him of his guilt, or washed away the pain.
“That’s great,” he muttered sarcastically. “You can go now.”
“Excuse me?”
“I started my time here alone, having a drink. I’d like to finish the same way.”
She stared back at him. Her eyes squinting slightly. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
His head tilted up, meeting her gaze. The ADA rarely swore, and even when she did, they were usually of the tamer variety. As if the vulgarities of language were beneath her in some way.
Alex continued. “You think you’re the only one in pain. The only one who fucked up. Well guess what Elliot? The world never revolved around you. So you can take your stoic man of the people pity party and shove it up your ass.” She fished a five out of her pocket, slammed it on the table before rising from her seat. “I wish you and your drink well.”
He watched her exit the bar. Stared at the doorway, processing her words. The anger rose within him and he reached for it like a beacon. Slamming his own money on the table, then chasing after her.
She was marching down the sidewalk.
“Hey!” Elliot ran up to her. Alex stopped in her tracks, turning towards him. “Fuck you!” He spat.
“Oh, that’s real mature, Elliot.”
“I don’t need this crap from you. I’ve been doing this for sixteen years. SIXTEEN years..”
“So, that makes you better than me? More noble? Honorable?”
“No, it makes me a cop. You lawyers are all the same. You don’t respect what we do, what I’ve had to do. And I don’t need some bitch lawyer sneering down at me. Like what I do is some inconvenience.”
“It’s always about you, isn’t it, Elliot? What you go through, what you’ve seen. You’re not the law, Elliot.”
“Neither are you.”
“No, I’m just the person assigned to keep you in check.”
“Fuck you.” He hissed.
“No, fuck you.”
It wasn’t a conscious choice, it was just there. His hands whipping out on their own, cupping Alex’s jaw in his hands, pulling his face towards hers. Until their lips crashed together. He could feel her hands at his sides, gripping at his shirt, pulling him into her. Her mouth opening as she shoved her tongue between his lips.
It just was. The chain link fence they fell back upon, the links clinking as they strained from the weight. Elliot pressed himself against her, felt her hips arching as he positioned himself between her legs and silently cursed that today, of all days, Alex had decided to wear slacks. His need pressed up against her, against the barrier between them, grinding, increasing the friction, feeding off her heat.
It just was. The aching need from the frustration and anger. At all the injustices in the world. She whimpered in his mouth, body shuddering as she came. It snapped her back to her senses. She placed her hands on Elliot’s shoulders, gently pushing him away as she pulled out of their kiss.
“You should go home, Elliot.” She whispered, breath still ragged and heavy, into his ear.
“I can’t,” He leaned into her neck, his arms wrapping around her waist pulling Alex towards him. “I can’t go home. I can’t walk into my house, see their faces, pretend like nothing’s wrong. That I don’t see what’s in my head, his sneer staring back at me, his smell in my nostrils. Pretend there’s nothing wrong and everything’s all right. Just don’t.. make me go home.”
“Where would you like to go?”
**
Elliot stood naked in the larger than it appeared bathroom. Steam from the shower wisped around him. He brushed his hand across the mirror, beads of condensation streaking across the flat surface. He stared at the man in the mirror, the good man, the honest man, and wondered what he saw staring back at him. He could explain the bruises on his face, his neck. But, he couldn't explain the scratch marks stinging his back, the bite mark cleaved into his neck as if he'd been marked. The streaks of lipstick, the physical evidence washing down the shower drain like evidence, but the lingering sensation of her lips remained. He could understand the guilt, the shame, the foreboding sense of dread over what he had done and what he should do next. He couldn't explain the man staring in the mirror, who wanted nothing more than to walk out the bathroom and crawl back into Alex’s bed.
Eventually, Elliot toweled off, put on his clothes. Hoped to God (nope, no irony in that request) the air outside would remove the scent of her by the time he got home. Quietly, he stepped out of the bathroom. His eyes adjusted to the darkness. The scent of sex still hung heady and strong in the air, like cigarette smoke in a packed bar. His feet planted firmly to the floor, Elliot could do nothing but stare. Alex still lay asleep on the bed. Venus in repose, pale skin and blonde hair. Face turned to the side, arms tucked under her pillow, one leg half off the mattress. Sheets ruffled and askew, the smallest scrap of cotton covered her in a tease of propriety, and Elliot's temptation. He stepped closer towards her. His hand outstretched, hovered over her back, felt the heat of her skin as he caressed the space above her back.
It would be so easy. And it would be wrong. It was all wrong. The moment he pressed his lips against hers and she acquiesced. But it was better than the alternative. To pretend nothing was wrong. To pretend he wasn’t tainted.
END
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Pairing: Alex/Elliot
Rating: R
Originally Posted: February 2004
Word Count: 1138
Summary: Post-Execution fic, Elliot feels guilty and finds someone to take his anger out on. And, in the process, gets more than he bargained for.
Tainted
**
The bar was mostly empty. Patrons scattered across the various stools and tables.
Elliot Stabler sat in a booth furthest from the door. Hunkered down in his seat, tie loosened from his neck, the top button on his shirt undone. This wasn’t the usual cop bar that he hung out. This was the loner’s bar. Where wallow in their misery, and drink, unabated.
He didn’t notice the door to the establishment open, just the unnatural turn of heads as eyes moved from the bottom of glasses to the vision walking into the bar. Elliot raised a slight eyebrow at Alexandra Cabot. She sat down across from him.
“How’d you find me?”
“You’re not the only person with expert investigative skills,” she quipped with the slight rise of an eyebrow. “I asked Munch.”
“How’s Huang?”
“He’ll live. Slight concussion. The doctor’s are keeping him overnight for observation but, other than a bitch of a headache, he’ll be fine.”
Elliot didn’t budge. Continued staring at the hand wrapped around his half empty glass; the half empty glass next to the half empty pitcher. Half empty, half full, neither absolved him of his guilt, or washed away the pain.
“That’s great,” he muttered sarcastically. “You can go now.”
“Excuse me?”
“I started my time here alone, having a drink. I’d like to finish the same way.”
She stared back at him. Her eyes squinting slightly. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
His head tilted up, meeting her gaze. The ADA rarely swore, and even when she did, they were usually of the tamer variety. As if the vulgarities of language were beneath her in some way.
Alex continued. “You think you’re the only one in pain. The only one who fucked up. Well guess what Elliot? The world never revolved around you. So you can take your stoic man of the people pity party and shove it up your ass.” She fished a five out of her pocket, slammed it on the table before rising from her seat. “I wish you and your drink well.”
He watched her exit the bar. Stared at the doorway, processing her words. The anger rose within him and he reached for it like a beacon. Slamming his own money on the table, then chasing after her.
She was marching down the sidewalk.
“Hey!” Elliot ran up to her. Alex stopped in her tracks, turning towards him. “Fuck you!” He spat.
“Oh, that’s real mature, Elliot.”
“I don’t need this crap from you. I’ve been doing this for sixteen years. SIXTEEN years..”
“So, that makes you better than me? More noble? Honorable?”
“No, it makes me a cop. You lawyers are all the same. You don’t respect what we do, what I’ve had to do. And I don’t need some bitch lawyer sneering down at me. Like what I do is some inconvenience.”
“It’s always about you, isn’t it, Elliot? What you go through, what you’ve seen. You’re not the law, Elliot.”
“Neither are you.”
“No, I’m just the person assigned to keep you in check.”
“Fuck you.” He hissed.
“No, fuck you.”
It wasn’t a conscious choice, it was just there. His hands whipping out on their own, cupping Alex’s jaw in his hands, pulling his face towards hers. Until their lips crashed together. He could feel her hands at his sides, gripping at his shirt, pulling him into her. Her mouth opening as she shoved her tongue between his lips.
It just was. The chain link fence they fell back upon, the links clinking as they strained from the weight. Elliot pressed himself against her, felt her hips arching as he positioned himself between her legs and silently cursed that today, of all days, Alex had decided to wear slacks. His need pressed up against her, against the barrier between them, grinding, increasing the friction, feeding off her heat.
It just was. The aching need from the frustration and anger. At all the injustices in the world. She whimpered in his mouth, body shuddering as she came. It snapped her back to her senses. She placed her hands on Elliot’s shoulders, gently pushing him away as she pulled out of their kiss.
“You should go home, Elliot.” She whispered, breath still ragged and heavy, into his ear.
“I can’t,” He leaned into her neck, his arms wrapping around her waist pulling Alex towards him. “I can’t go home. I can’t walk into my house, see their faces, pretend like nothing’s wrong. That I don’t see what’s in my head, his sneer staring back at me, his smell in my nostrils. Pretend there’s nothing wrong and everything’s all right. Just don’t.. make me go home.”
“Where would you like to go?”
**
Elliot stood naked in the larger than it appeared bathroom. Steam from the shower wisped around him. He brushed his hand across the mirror, beads of condensation streaking across the flat surface. He stared at the man in the mirror, the good man, the honest man, and wondered what he saw staring back at him. He could explain the bruises on his face, his neck. But, he couldn't explain the scratch marks stinging his back, the bite mark cleaved into his neck as if he'd been marked. The streaks of lipstick, the physical evidence washing down the shower drain like evidence, but the lingering sensation of her lips remained. He could understand the guilt, the shame, the foreboding sense of dread over what he had done and what he should do next. He couldn't explain the man staring in the mirror, who wanted nothing more than to walk out the bathroom and crawl back into Alex’s bed.
Eventually, Elliot toweled off, put on his clothes. Hoped to God (nope, no irony in that request) the air outside would remove the scent of her by the time he got home. Quietly, he stepped out of the bathroom. His eyes adjusted to the darkness. The scent of sex still hung heady and strong in the air, like cigarette smoke in a packed bar. His feet planted firmly to the floor, Elliot could do nothing but stare. Alex still lay asleep on the bed. Venus in repose, pale skin and blonde hair. Face turned to the side, arms tucked under her pillow, one leg half off the mattress. Sheets ruffled and askew, the smallest scrap of cotton covered her in a tease of propriety, and Elliot's temptation. He stepped closer towards her. His hand outstretched, hovered over her back, felt the heat of her skin as he caressed the space above her back.
It would be so easy. And it would be wrong. It was all wrong. The moment he pressed his lips against hers and she acquiesced. But it was better than the alternative. To pretend nothing was wrong. To pretend he wasn’t tainted.
END