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 Written for the fanfic100 challenge
  
  Unlocked by Riley Cannon  

 Written for Maverick, who wanted to see Elliot & Eddie in handcuffs.

 ~Unlocked~

 Folding up another pair of jeans, Eddie Drake stuffed them in his bag and
was reaching for a stack of wifebeaters when someone knocked on the door.
"What?" he called out, knowing it couldn't be room service. The only
answer was another knock and he impatiently crossed the few feet to open
it, drawling, "Well, fuck, what do you want?"

 Elliot Stabler stood in the hallway, looking unsure and damp from the
rain. "You going to let me in?"

 The smart answer would have been a swift no, followed by slamming the
door shut in his face. As proof he needed his head examined, however,
Eddie simply shrugged and stood aside, waving him inside with a sweep of
his arm. He hoped the gesture looked sarcastic; he meant it to. Since
Elliot appeared in no rush to say anything, Eddie went back to his
packing, wondering if the weather was going to cause any flight delays.
There might not be much waiting for him back in California, but last he'd
heard at least it was warm and dry.

 Elliot had noticed the bag sitting open on the bed and demonstrated why
he was such a hotshot detective by asking, "You're leaving?"

 Eddie zipped it shut, met his eyes, defiance flaring in his own. "Is
there a reason I should stay?" A couple of nights ago, up on the roof at
the One-Six and feeling that hard body pressed against him, Eddie had
really thought there might be. Two minutes later, left alone up there and
feeling the cold way down deep in his bones, he'd known he was nothing but
a chump.

 Proof of that? He couldn't even make a clean getaway. No, he had to take
off with one more picture of Elliot stored in his head. It was a really
good one too. In faded jeans and black leather jacket, a purple shirt he
hadn't tucked in, Elliot looked more appealing than ever. A cut lip and
bruises only enhanced those charms and made Eddie want to step close and
kiss them better.

 And he wanted to smash a fist into the handsome face for making him feel
things like that. For wanting to make Elliot feel better and find some
comfort for himself in those arms.

 "Eddie, I ... I just..." Looking frustrated, Elliot shook his head as if
that could rattle loose whatever words he wanted. Not quite looking at
him, voice almost too low to make out, he said, "I'm sorry about what
happened."

 "What part are you sorry about?"

 This time Elliot looked at him, seemingly at a loss. "What?"

 Eddie moved closer now. "The part where we're pressed up against the wall
and your tongue's in my mouth? Or the part where you leave me standing
there, feeling like an idiot? Because that first part, Elliot, it was
really good," he finished. And fuck, wasn't like he had anything to lose
now. 

 He watched Elliot's face, trying to pick up what he was thinking,
feeling. Did that flush of guilt-stricken color signal remorse or
remembered passion? As long as it wasn't shame over kissing him in the
first place there was still a chance. Yeah, and there was more proof he
needed a hard, swift kick in the ass.

 And the moment he decided he wasn't going to get any kind of answer,
Elliot told him, "The second part, Eddie. I didn't want to make you feel
like that. I..." Faltering once more, he shook his head at whatever
struggle was going on inside and crossed the room to the window, nudging
the curtain aside to look out at the raindrops dashing themselves against
the glass. "This just..." A deep sigh. "It's not easy for me."

 Eddie let out his own sigh and went over to him, wanting to touch but
letting his hand hover just an inch away. "Didn't seem too difficult the
other night, Elliot," he said carefully, and completed the gesture. The
leather was soft against his palm and he rubbed slow circles across his
back. "Is it the `stache, El, 'cause I can shave the 'stache," he said,
hoping that might ease the tension he could feel knotting up those
muscles.

 It got him a shaky laugh at least. "It's not the mustache, Eddie."
Another deep sigh then, like he really was trying to get with the
unwinding. Long fingers reached over to touch the glass, tap against it.
"You'd really shave it off?"

 Eddie smiled, pressing harder against the broad back, working lose the
apprehension. "Been thinking about it anyway. Kind of makes me stand out a
little too much."

 Another brief bark of laughter, laced through with skepticism. "Oh yeah,"
Elliot turned to face him, "like you'd blend into a crowd otherwise."

 "I'm telling you, I'm a chameleon." Met with a dubious expression, Eddie
put on his best pout. "You don't believe me?"

 "No," Elliot was looking at him so seriously, so intently it made him
want to squirm and duck his head to escape that penetrating gaze, "I find
it really hard to believe you could ever be a wallflower."

 "Hmm," to distract himself, Eddie reached over to fiddle with Elliot's
shirt collar so it wasn't smooshed down, "guess I'll have to prove it to
you."

 "You'd have to," Elliot hesitated a split second, pulling in a sharp
breath as Eddie's knuckles brushed his collarbone, "to hang around to do
that."

 Eddie raised his eyes to meet those laser beam blues. "Guess I would, but
I'm not sure that's reason enough. You got something more in the way of
incentive?"

 "Eddie..." Temptation and panic were warring in Elliot's eyes again, just
like the other night. "I ... I don't..." Another furious shake of his
head, some fierce battle going on that no one else could see, couldn't
predict how it would come out. "I think ... this was a mistake, Eddie.
I--"

 Oh fuck, not again. "No," Eddie growled, getting a solid hold on him with
one hand, "you don't get to fuck me around and then run away. I'm not
playing that game."

 Storm clouds of righteous anger were gathering in Elliot's eyes now. "Let
me go," he said, voice dangerously low as he tried to pull free.

 "Not till we get this settled," Eddie popped back just as seriously,
grabbing his handcuffs off the dresser and snapping one bracelet around
Elliot's wrist, the other clamped on his own, and there they were. He
would have sworn he could really see steam rising off the other man.

 "What the fuck are you..." Elliot jerked on the cuffs, only succeeding in
making Eddie stumble against him. "Unlock them, now."

 Regaining his footing, Eddie threw his arms out, making Elliot unsteady
on his feet. "You want the key, Boy Scout, find it yourself," he told him,
and guessed things were about to get really interesting.

 ~*~

 This was a mistake. Elliot had known that even before the other night,
but perceiving the blunder and being able to avoid it didn't seem to be
working out for him. The discipline he counted on to hold everything
together, even when all other foundations had been knocked out from under
him, had been increasingly hard to locate since Eddie Drake had come to
town. He wasn't even sure why he kept scrambling so desperately to locate
it, except that it was familiar and safe -- and Eddie, what Eddie made him
want, wasn't safe at all.

 Two weeks, that was all it was: two weeks since Eddie had sauntered into
the squad room at the end of a long day, in jeans that were about ready
for the trash, boots that hadn't been polished in ten years, and three
day's worth of stubble. Demanding to see Stabler, he'd plunked his butt
down in a chair, propped his feet up on Elliot's desk, and said, "So,
you're the asshole fucking up my case," by way of greeting.

 The funny thing was how it hadn't all been downhill from there.

 That's what he had been thinking the other night, with the case wrapped
up and everybody back at the house. He and Eddie had been in the break
room, getting patched up, and as Elliot had felt the adrenaline rush dying
out, it suddenly hit him what a breath of fresh air Eddie had brought into
his life, and now he'd be losing that. Eddie would be on a plane back to
California, taking all the life and color with him. Everything would fade
back to gray, muted down, and that realization had felt like a brand new
punch to the jaw.

 Suddenly he'd had to get out of there, get away before Eddie looked at
him and knew what he was thinking. And -- he looked at Eddie now, tracked
the cuts and bruises that echoed his own, and made himself admit one more
thing -- and he'd been jealous too, right at that moment, watching Olivia
swab Eddie's cuts and put an icepack against his cheek, and Elliot had
sizzled with envy. That should be him there, taking care of Eddie; both of
them taking care of each other. That's when he'd bolted, up to the roof,
not caring that it was freezing out. Glad of that, sucking in deep breaths
of chilly air and looking out at the city lights shining in the dark.

 He hadn't been alone up there for long. He'd heard footsteps approaching
and hadn't needed to look around to confirm it was Eddie. He'd known, felt
it was him, and that was scary too. 

 "This isn't because I said you screamed like a girl, is it?" Eddie had
said, coming over to join him, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.
"Because, my hand to God, I'll never tell."

 It had been easy to reply in kind, "Oh yeah, I'm all despondent over
that." 

 Easier still to stay in that moment and soak up every nuance. Eddie's
shoulder brushing his, nudging him. Eddie rubbing his hands together to
warm them, blowing on them. How natural it had felt to clasp them in his
own, to run one hand up Eddie's arm and let it curve around his neck,
finally indulging the temptation to run his fingers through that cluster
of blond curls. And Eddie could have hauled off and socked him one; he'd
half-expected him to. When those square, practical hands had come up to
grip his shoulders, he'd thought it was coming then, had anticipated being
shoved away, hard enough to land on his ass -- only those hands had pulled
him closer, one of them cupping the nape of his neck and drawing his face
nearer. 

 Which one of them had closed that final, infinitesimal distance? Elliot
wasn't sure. He only knew the need to kiss Eddie's mouth had been
irresistible, and that no trace of resistance was in evidence as they
pressed up against a wall, kissing with a wild and reckless abandon he'd
never known, there in the shadows, wrestling each other against that cold
brick. One moment, Eddie had him immobile there, holding his outstretched
arms against the wall and greedily consuming kisses. The next, he had
Eddie pinned there, just as gluttonous for the other man's mouth, wanting,
wanting ... he didn't know, he'd only known he needed to touch, be
touched, that his body was starving for it.

 He still felt the craving, worse now for having had that one taste. He --
God -- he just ... he just wanted to feel that alive again.

 And he could. All he had to do was reach out and make a claim. Everything
he wanted was standing right there in front of him, looking better than
ever. A California boy, Eddie hadn't packed for November in New York and
had wound up mooching some things from him. He was still wearing one of
Elliot's sweatshirts, a navy blue hoodie, that made him look even more
blond, eyes a more vivid blue. Eyes that teased him and dared him, and
promised they could provide everything he wanted. Nothing he would have
ever expected; all that he could think about.

 "Where's the key?" he asked, tugging on the cuffs.

 Eddie shrugged, waved his arms again, dragging Elliot with him. "You want
it, you come and get it, pal."

 Something told Elliot he didn't just mean the key to the handcuffs.

 They were already so close he could feel the warmth radiating off Eddie,
smell him -- soap and aftershave. One easy tug, and they were practically
pressed together, Eddie putting up no opposition as Elliot's fingers dug
into the change pocket of his jeans. Actually, he looked like he thought
this might be a very promising turn of events, and murmured, "Nice
frisking technique, Stabler," right against his ear as Elliot fished
around and withdrew a couple of quarters.

 "Shut up," Elliot grumbled back, tossing the quarters on the bed and
working his hand into the larger pocket, trying to stay focused on this
impromptu scavenger hunt.

 Undeterred, Eddie blew a puff of air against Elliot's ear. "Oh yeah," he
groaned as Elliot felt around for the key, "that's good. Little to the
right."

 "I said shut up." Elliot carefully withdrew his fingers, coming up with
nothing this time, and couldn't seem to find anywhere else to rest his
hand except on Eddie's hip.

 "Make me," Eddie rumbled, pushing into him, tongue darting out to give
him one quick swipe under his jaw. "Got more pockets."

 Breath coming harder, Adam's apple bobbing, Elliot moved his hand, no
option available except to work it between their bellies, biting his lip
as he worked his fingers into the pocket, this one so much tighter. "Stop
moving around."

 "Who's moving?" Eddie said, thrusting his hips forward, their crotches
rubbing together. "Just keeping my circulation going."

 Yeah -- Elliot swallowed again, wondered why the thermostat was turned so
high in the room -- he could feel his own circulation going strong. He
couldn't feel anything like a key, however, and worked his hand out of the
pocket. Withdrawal proved even trickier, though, the hooded sweatshirt
getting hiked up in the process so that for a moment his hand was splayed
against Eddie's bare stomach. "You lied," he breathed, lips not quite
touching Eddie's cheek.

 Moving his head so Elliot's lips had nowhere else to land, Eddie said,
"About what?"

 Not kissing his face, not really, Elliot moved so his cheek was laid
against Eddie's, hairs from the mustache tickling the corner of his mouth.
"There's no key in your pocket."

 "Those aren't my only pockets, Ell."

 Oh yeah, like he hadn't seen that coming.

 He rested his hand at the small of Eddie's back, realizing his blunder as
that caused their bodies to press even closer together. Eddie's breath was
hot on his neck, and he felt the itch of the mustache even more acutely.
With painstaking precision, Elliot ran his hand over one hip, the thin
denim forming a pocket so thin he could tell by that light touch alone
nothing was concealed there. Eddie burrowed into some more, and it was
only because Elliot needed to steady his hand that he let it linger there,
gripping Eddie's ass. Pulling in another shaky breath as the blond head
nestled against his neck, he slid his hand over to the other pocket,
feeling the outline of a wallet there. "Getting warmer?"

 "I don't know, you tell me."

 Just a little, yeah. Fingers worked into the tight space, Elliot drew out
the wallet, tossed it over on the bed, and delved back inside, probing in
a corner and closing his fingers around the tiny bit of metal. Funny
thing, he didn't experience a single twinge of satisfaction as he took it
out and showed the key to Eddie. As a matter of fact, the defeated look of
resignation in those light blue eyes felt like a solid punch to the gut.

 "Eddie--" 

 Dejected, he shook his head, a sad and lopsided smile on his face. "Go
ahead, I won't try and stop you from leaving."

 Frowning, Elliot undid the cuffs, let them thunk down on the carpet. "You
always give up this easy?"

 Eyes sharper, suspicious, Eddie said, "I know when to stop banging my
head against a wall."

 "Yeah." Elliot rested a hand on Eddie's shoulder, squeezing. "Don't they
say it feels really good when you stop?" No way to miss the doubt in those
eyes. No blaming him for it, either, and Elliot guessed this was
crossroads time. He could play it safe, sure, give into all those old
fears -- and lose this chance. This possibility that could turn out to be
the best to come his way in ages, and that he could wind up regretting
that he's missed it the rest of his life. His life was already riddled
with disappointments, dreams he'd had to let die, opportunities he could
never reach out to claim. There was even a certain comfort in that
familiarity. Risk nothing, and stay in that muted gray zone forever, safe
and sound -- and dying deep down inside. 

 If he did this, if for once he reached out for what he truly wanted,
there would be no guarantees. No safety net to catch him. Only ... he
looked at Eddie, watching him, waiting for him ... maybe he wouldn't need
that net so long as he wasn't all alone out there.

 "Eddie," his hand curved around Eddie's neck, "I don't want to go."
Because the worst regret of all was not doing what he felt was right.

 "You don't?"

 "No," he confirmed, and pulled Eddie in so he could back it up with a
kiss, and another kiss, and some more after that until Eddie's arms were
wound around him tight. "What about you?" he murmured, dragging his mouth
away for a moment, nuzzling his ear.

 One hand cradling the back of his head, ruffling his hair, Eddie said,
"What?"

 "Is this reason enough to stay?"

 For an answer, Eddie kissed his mouth, long and hard and deep. "Yeah,
Elliot, it really is."

 Mouth stretched with a huge smile, Elliot stroked his cheek, the edge of
that mustache. "You'd really get rid of this thing?"

 "Say the word."

 "Consider it said." He caught Eddie's hand and pressed the key into it,
folding his fingers over it.

 "What's this?"

 "Well," Elliot kissed him again, "I don't need it anymore. I mean," he
stole another kiss, tongue flicking the roof of his mouth for an instant,
"if you really want to cuff me, I'm game, but I'd kind of like to use my
hands."

 "You know I'll hold you to that."

 Still smiling, Elliot winked and said, "You know what? I'm counting on
it."

 ~end~

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