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  Bored of Education by Forbes	

 

 Prologue.

 Bored out of his mind, Morton Begley placed the cursor over yet another
file on the Baltimore fraud squad computer. This was the twenty seventh
time he'd clicked 'Open With' and he was just about fed up to the back
teeth with accounting files.

 Okay, so he'd messed up and pissed off his captain, but he didn't think
he deserved to be stuck on some shit-eating hard-drive search for three
days straight. If some dumb-ass accountant was stupid enough to think he
could cream off one of the biggest businesses in New York then he was
going to need all the money he could get for lawyer's fees. Begley stabbed
the mouse and sighed, waiting for another tedious set of numbers to bore
the nuts off him, taking a sip of a now almost cold mug of coffee.

 He frowned. This file on the drive had a different code to the others,
refusing to open with the usual accountancy program. Interest piqued,
Begley put his mug down, sat up and quickly ran through the options. 

 Choosing an icon, he slowly sat back and stared at the screen as the file
opened and emails began to unfold in front of him. Seemed the meek
accountant had an eye for something more exotic than just money.

 Reading through the messages, Begley could feel the blood draining from
his face. His stomach began to turn lazy circles, threatening to send his
lunch on a return trip as he read the words. With an uncertain hand, he
clicked on 'Attachment', and picture after picture opened up before him.
His body couldn't decide whether his face ought to blush, or pale at what
he saw.

 Chapter One.

 Cragen paced up and down the squad room.

 "I'm not asking you to emigrate, for goodness sake! Baltimore isn't the
end of the universe."

 "Might as well be," Stabler muttered, rocking back and forth on his
chair. He glanced over and glared at the snort that came from Munch.

 "And it's not for very long." Cragen sighed. "Look, if it were anyone
else but Jerry Lonsdale asking, I'd say 'no' just out of principle. But he
and I go way back and I know he's not blowing smoke up my ass - he needs
help."

 "But why me?" Elliot folded his arms over his chest and scowled. 

 "Because I said so?" Cragen asked, with feigned innocence. Elliot just
continued to give him a poisonous look. Cragen sighed. "Because I *said*
so," he repeated in a voice that just reiterated the fact that he was
Captain and Elliot merely a foot soldier. "Look, I need a man to act as a
substitute gym teacher to monitor the actual area we're concerned with,
and I'm sorry but you fit the bill. John's busy giving his statement at
the Adkins trial, and I chose you as opposed to Fin-" He paused and looked
over at the black officer. "Don't take this the wrong way, Fin, but all
things considered, I think Elliot would be able to pull off the whole
'teacher' look." He winced. "No offence."

 Fin shrugged. "None taken."

 Munch chuckled. "Can you imagine Tutuola trying to be an educator? He'd
stick out like...." He hesitated, laughing.

 "A sore thumb?" Olivia suggested. 

 Munch shook his head. "I was thinking more like a mouse turd on a wedding
cake." 

 Fin squinted dangerously at him. "What you tryin' t'say?"

 Munch regarded him over his glasses, unfazed. "Well, if you weren't
frightening the living daylights out of the more sensitive students with
that face of yours, then you'd be making the poor creatures 'assume the
position' while you searched them all for substances."

 Fin grinned. "Bet yo' ass."

 Cragen tapped the edge of the desk. "Yes, people, but while the clean-up
rate for recreational drugs in school might soar, that's not why we're
there. We need to find out who is taking those pictures. It has to be an
inside job - the perp is obviously familiar with the school system, and
has access to the gym changing-areas."

 "Could be remote cameras," Fin offered. "We've seen that before."

 "It's not just the cameras we need to worry about," Olivia pushed a
series of manipulated images across the desk. Stabler winced and looked
away. "We need to find this guy before he actually gets around to
following through and 'supplying' a girl for this," she said.

 "Yeah." Elliot pushed the photos away. 

 "You sure the timescale we're working with is accurate?" Olivia slid the
photos back into a folder.

 "According to the transcripts of the emails between the accountant and
the perp, then next week is when he's going to snatch his victim. We need
to be well established in position before that. The perp mustn't suspect
the accountant's been busted." He looked pointedly at Elliot. "As far as
he's concerned, the deal's still on. We need to get people in that school
asap. I've arranged for three plain clothes guys to start work as fake
maintenance men, but I think the Faculty angle is our best bet."

 Elliot sighed and threw the pen on the table. "I agree; but I still think
vice'd be better at this."

 Cragen shook his head. "It's my call. I owe Jerry - he helped me out of a
jam, I'm happy to return the favour. Besides, the endangerment of a minor
was SVU territory last time I looked at the manual."

 Elliot tried not to roll his eyes. "But I know diddly about teaching,
Cap'n."

 Cragen smiled. "That's as may be, but you *do* have a distinct advantage
over the rest of us."

 Elliot looked up, his face blank. "I do?"

 Cragen pointed at the framed picture on his desk. "Children, Elliot. You
have lots of children."

 ***

 Adjusting his tie for the second time in as many minutes, Olivia grinned
as her partner slapped her hands away. 

 "Jeez, Liv... give it a rest, will you?" He gave the route-planner to the
school a final glance, threw it into a leather carry-bag and snapped it
shut.

 "I just want you to look nice for your first day at school, honey," she
smiled.

 He curled his lip. "Ha, ha. Real funny. This is just some big laugh-riot
to you, isn't it?

 "No. Not at all." She folded her arms and arched an eyebrow at him. "I
don't find the distribution of pornographic images the least bit funny -
especially when the pictures are of minors. The idea of a girl being at
risk is even less amusing."

 Elliot sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry." He subconsciously adjusted his
tie again. "I'm just nervous, I guess."

 "You have nothing at all to fear. They're gonna love you. I just wish I
was going to be there, too."

 "You just wanna see me get my ass kicked by a bunch of girls."

 Olivia smirked. "Well, as appealing as that sounds, partner, I happen to
have a touch more faith in you than that."

 "You think?"

 "Absolutely. They're going to love you."

 He looked at her and checked his watch. "I doubt that. I hated all my
teachers in school."

 "That was then - this is now. Things have changed."

 "I know. That's what worries me." 

 Olivia laughed and winked. Trust me, they'll *love* you."

 Elliot tilted his head. "Whaddya mean?"

 Grinning, she fiddled with his tie. "Let's just say you'll be a welcome
addition to the scenery."

 Looking utterly baffled, Elliot shook his head, looked at his watch again
and sighed. "Yeah, whatever, but I am *not* looking forward to this."

 "Relax, you're gonna be fine." Olivia snapped her purse shut and patted
his arm and grinned as he pushed his way through the squad room doors.
"They're just kids;" she called after him. "How bad can it be?"

 Chapter two.

 Elliot held his breath and stood perfectly still as the stream of
teenagers flowed around him. He had three daughters, but the volume and
sheer *mass* of so many teenaged girls in one place was seriously starting
to freak him out. They didn't give him a second glance, allowed him no
respectful distance, their elbows and bags thumping into him from every
angle. He stood rigid, resisting the flow of bodies, eyes desperately
searching the corridor for any signs that could help him out. The
continuous screech of voices was making him anxious. 

 A voice cut through the babble. "Gotta keep moving, my man, or they'll
tear you down and trample your body while it's still twitching. They can
smell fear." 

 Elliot glanced at the owner of the voice, a small black woman who barely
skimmed his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at her, remembering just in
time not to glare at her. "Oh, thanks. I... um... I'm kinda at a loss
here," he admitted with a little shrug.

 The woman tilted her head, dark eyes seemingly amused. "Let me guess.
Substitute?"

 Elliot nodded. "Uh-huh. Phys Ed."

 "Oh, dear." She shook her head and smiled. 

 "What?" A bag whacked Elliot in the back, and he glared at the owner who
totally ignored him. He flicked his gaze back to the woman. "What's that
supposed to mean?"

 With a shake of her head, the teacher patted him gently on the arm and
pointed down the corridor. "You'll be fine; take no notice of me, my dear.
Just go that way and take a sharp left. The Admin. Office is on your
right, you can't miss it. It's an oasis of quiet." With another little
shake of her head and smile, she moved away. 

 "Um... Thanks," Elliot called after the woman as she was carried off in
the crowd, swimming through the tide of adolescents with an easy grace of
a minnow in a shoal of sharks. Elliot braced himself and plunged into the
flow of traffic, trying to copy the way she had carved out a path with his
elbows.

 ***

 Tobias Beecher glared at the filing cabinet lurking at the back of the
Admin office. Sure, it was the cabinet assigned to him for the semester,
but Toby suspected it resented being stuck at the back of the room when
shiny new filing systems had been brought in. He shuffled his papers,
trying not to look at the deep scratch on the back of his hand that was
courtesy of his last encounter with 'his' cabinet. Damn thing. If
inanimate objects had souls, then the one for this heap of junk had been
sold to the Devil. He took a deep breath and gingerly extended his hand
towards the 'S' section. A small bell pinged. 

 Beecher looked up, paused and blinked several times as the walking
epitome of 'tall dark and handsome' leaned on the Admin counter. Beecher's
eyebrows shot up. This had to be some new kid's parent he thought, openly
gawking across the room at the handsome face; taking in the askew tie and
slightly distressed expression with amusement. For the first time in what
seemed longer than three dry years, Toby felt the ping of something in his
groin. No, he thought; there was no way God loved him enough to send a man
that good-looking to work here; he had to be just passing through. 

 Dark and kind of Italian-looking, all muscle judging by the way his
jacket pulled across his shoulders. Kind of uptight, too, looking at the
frown and the jumping muscle in his jaw.

 Toby slowly pulled his hand out of the cabinet, still staring. Maybe he
was a newbie parent, perhaps, or someone wanting to register a complaint.
As a senior member of staff, it really was Toby's duty to go over and see
what the guy wanted. 

 As if reading his thoughts, the man turned his head slightly to scan the
room, his eyes nailing Toby to the spot. They both jerked their chins up,
acknowledging one another. Toby swallowed. One glance and several small
mammals began to jig about in his stomach - what the hell was with that? 

 Courage and paperwork gathered tightly to his chest, Toby took one more
deep breath and took a step forward. 

 With the timing of the relentlessly vicious, Mrs. Fisher, Head
Administrator brushed past him, causing Toby to fumble his filing. Several
sheets billowed to the floor. He bent to gather them up, hoping he didn't
look as dorky as he felt.

 "Can I help you?" Mrs. Fisher snapped at the man, staring at the loose
tie with distain.

 "Um... Yeah..." 

 Toby was amused to hear the guy's voice sounded a lot less confident than
he looked. He watched long fingers wander to his collar, clearly
uncomfortable with the way Mrs. Fisher was glaring at it.

 "I'm... I'm substituting for Mr. Green," the man said. He put his bag
down and held out his other hand. "Elliot Thomas."

 The creatures in Toby's guts leaped at the word 'substitute'. Thank you
God! He was going to be here longer than five minutes. He grinned,
standing straight.

 The Admin woman ignored Elliot's outstretched palm long enough for him to
get the message and slowly pull it back. With a dismissive sniff, she
shoved a handful of papers across the counter. "You need to complete these
forms, get them duplicated twice, bring the originals to me, send the one
copy to your Employment Agent and keep the other for your records." She
all but threw a pen at him. "In black ink, if you please, and before you
leave today would be nice."

 Elliot looked down at the nest of paper. "Okay," he said slowly, picking
up the pen. "Um... Where do I..."

 "The Xerox is situated in the Faculty Lounge, and you need to get
yourself down to the gym pretty sharpish. Classes start in 20 minutes."
She sniffed again and turned away, busying herself in a filing cabinet.

 Elliot stared at her back stunned at his complete dismissal. His eyes
flicked back over to Toby, open wide, his expression incredulous. A twenty
pound rodent danced in Toby's stomach as he gave Elliot a small smile and
a 'what the hell?' look. He bent his head to hide the way a blush was
starting to crawl all over his face. There was no way in hell to know if
this guy 'sang in the choir', but he could see hours of flirting fun
ahead, finding out. 

 Across the counter, Elliot cleared his throat loudly until the Admin Ogre
turned around. "Um... Where's the...."

 "Down the hall, take a right, up the first flight of stairs and third
door on your left." The Admin lady looked at him like he'd been scraped
off her shoe. "And I'd advise you to get there *before* the students, Mr.
Thomas. Try to at least *look* professional."

 Elliot stared back. "Okaaay. Right." He picked up his bag and walked to
the door, with one last glance at Toby as he left the room, inadvertently
jolting the other man with his startlingly blue eyes. 

 "Substitutes!" The snort was derision personified. "Haven't got the balls
to be regular teachers, or the common sense to give it up and go sell
aluminium siding." Mrs. Fisher glanced over to Toby and grinned wickedly.
"Oh, they're gonna eat him *alive*."

 Not if I eat him first, Toby said to himself, the thought shocking him
with unashamed audacity.

 Chapter three.

 Elliot stared at the doors to the gym with a mixture of irritation and
trepidation. His face was fixed in a frown as he absently fiddled with the
string on his track pants. He was silently counting down the seconds until
the bell rang for first class, trying to calm his nerves. Damn Cragen for
doing this; it was unwarranted, just because he had kids didn't mean he
could carry off such an in-depth undercover scene. Easier just to shove
some extra security in the place. He sighed. The shirt the school had
provided was a shade too tight, restricting movement around his chest and
arms. He flexed and winced, knowing the tight fit was going to drive him
crazy over the next few days. 

 He was fully aware that his anger at his boss and the size of the shirt
was merely misdirected anxiety about the whole situation, a weakness that
annoyed him intensely. There was no reason on earth he should be nervous
about this assignment - teaching a gym class to girls ought to be a damned
sight easier than chasing perps and perverts through the streets. But
despite telling himself that, a movie in the back of his head kept
re-running every frustrating moment he'd ever experienced with the
opposite sex.

 Loud voices and a squeaking stampede of sneakers told him his first class
had arrived. He pulled in a deep breath and took one final glance at the
lesson plan on the desk. They're just kids, he told himself as he opened
the door. Just kids.

 "Good morning." He spoke loudly as he entered the gym and waited for the
chattering to quieten down. The noise continued, as he was roundly
ignored. Elliot frowned. "Good *morning*'," he said again, louder this
time.

 But instead of dying down, the noise, if anything, increased in volume,
drowning him out. Blinking in surprise that fast gave way to anger,
Elliot's hands went to his hips. "Excuse ME!" he all but shouted at the
teenage girls chattering and screeching like an unruly whoop of monkeys.
Only three heads bothered to turn in his direction, but 10% of the
population paying attention really didn't make much of a dent in the noise
level.

 "Do you mind? I'm speaking." Maddeningly, there was no noticeable
response. Infuriated, Elliot took a deep breath and spoke again, this time
using a parade-ground tone he hadn't employed in years.

 "QUIET!"

 This time every head turned to him and the noise dribbled away. Thirty
pairs of eyes openly stared. Clearly being shouted at wasn't something
they were used to.

 "About time. Now I have your attention, ladies," He swept his gaze across
the room, scalding the teenagers with his scowl. "We can begin. My name is
Mr. Thomas. I'm here to take your Phys Ed classes for the next couple of
weeks."

 "Where's Mr. Green?" a voice piped up from the back.

 "Mr. Green is indisposed. I'm here to..."

 Another voice cut in. "What's wrong with him?" 

 "Prob'ly in the slammer," someone offered.

 "I don't think..." Elliot started to say.

 "Or rehab," another voice called out. 

 "Actually..." He scowled at the interruption.

 "More like he's finally gotten round to that sex-change op," some joker
added. There was a general snicker of laughter at that.

 Elliot's eyebrows drew together. "Where Mr. Green has gone is frankly no
body's business but his, and it's considered very *rude* to interrupt when
someone's speaking."

 "Yeah, whatever," came the bored reply from the back of the group.
"Booooooring..." 

 Elliot's hackles rose. "I'd thank you to keep your comments to yourself,
thank you," he snapped.

 "Hey; it's a free country, man," the owner of the voice drawled, clearly
unimpressed.

 Elliot's eyes raked through the class and zeroed in on a girl leaning
against the wall, arms folded, her body language clearly challenging. "You
can't stop me expressing myself."

 Elliot narrowed his eyes. "You think so?"

 "Nah. That'd be unconstitutional."

 A tight smile twitched one corner of Elliot's mouth; something that all
four of his children knew was a bad sign. "I'm not here to exercise your
'rights' young lady; just your bodies."

 "Yeah, whatever, but we got the right to free speech, dude."

 Elliot shook his head. "Not in my class," he ground out, his teeth
clenched tightly together. 

 The girl made a derisive noise. "Fuckin' classroom Nazi."

 Elliot felt his nostrils flare, the bored insolence in the kid's voice
needling him more than the bad language. He was aware of the silence that
had suddenly roared in to the gym as 29 sets of teenage eyes watched the
scene being played out. He got the feeling that the rest of his tour of
duty in this place would be defined by what happened next. He steeled
himself and reined his temper in a notch. He pointed. "You. What's your
name?"

 The girl just stared back at him, a smirk draped all over her face.
Someone sniggered and Elliot's jaw tightened further. "Your name?" he
asked again, burning with the urge to yell at the child for her dumb
insolence. 

 "I think it's sewn in the back of my gym shorts," she shrugged, smirking.
"You wanna check?"

 Elliot forced himself to walk slowly over to where the girl lounged, the
crowd parting before him without a sound. He came to a stop and stood
perfectly still, just staring down at the girl, a shade too far inside her
personal space to be comfortable. His mouth twitched again as the girl
shifted slightly, her eyes darting left to right, suddenly unsure. Elliot
knew from long experience how intimidating his physical presence could be;
it had been both a blessing and a curse ever since he discovered what
working out did for his physique. 

 A small part of him questioned the justification of a grown man trying to
intimidate a girl barely into her teens, but he knew deep down if he
didn't stamp his authority on the class, word would spread, and he would
be lost. 

 "I asked you a question," he said quietly. "It would be polite to provide
me with an answer." He leaned further forward. "What...is...your...name?"
He spoke slowly, pausing between each word for effect. The girl's eyes
shifted faster as she squirmed under his gaze. She held her silence for
perhaps another two minutes before cracking and muttering something.

 Elliot leaned a shade closer. "What was that?" 

 The girl looked at her sneakers. "Maz," she mumbled.

 "Maz." He frowned. "What is that?" He watched as 'Maz' chewed her bottom
lip, obviously debating whether to risk a snippy reply. He lowered his
voice and put just a little of the growl that always made his kids
instantly rethink giving him any lip. "Now, why don't you tell me what
your parents *actually* named you?"

 Maz opened her mouth, glanced up at his expression and seemed to rethink
her reply. "Meryl," she said with none of the earlier insolence in her
voice. Elliot took a deliberately long breath and straightened up. "Well,
Meryl," he said, pitching his voice so all the class could hear him. "I
think I need to clear a few things up. I don't think you understand the
way things are going to be." He stared down at her, deliberately not
saying anything more, allowing the silence to stretch out between them. He
let the silence go on long enough for Meryl to feel really uncomfortable
before snapping his fingers at her. "Stand up straight," he ordered.

 Reluctantly, Meryl pulled herself away from the wall and stood with her
arms folded across her chest. 

 "Now, look at me." 

 Meryl's gaze remained fixed on her trainers.

 "LOOK at me," Elliot barked.

 Sighing dramatically, the girl turned her face up, a sulk written all
over it.

 Elliot ignored the expression. "Thank you. Okay. Let me spell it out for
you, Meryl." He spoke directly to the girl, but knew he had the attention
of every student in the room. "I am being paid to increase your level of
fitness. I don't care if you hate Phys Ed; I don't care if you hate school
in general, and I don't even care if you hate *me*. I do care, however,
that I earn my pay check." He stepped back. "There will be no bad attitude
displayed in my class, no offensive language, no insolence, dumb or
otherwise. You will do as instructed, first time of asking; you will
sweat, you will work hard and you will get fit." He ducked his head to
stare at her. "Do I make myself clear?" 

 There was no answer. "Do I make myself CLEAR?" The last word, bellowed
out made at least a dozen girls jump. Meryl blinked up at him, her face
almost as pale as her gym shirt.

 "Yes," she whispered.

 "Yes, what?" Swallowing, the girl frowned, clearly at a loss. Elliot
sighed. "Yes, *Mr. Thomas*," he prompted.

 "Yes, Mr. Thomas."

 "Good." Elliot gave a sharp smile. "Now we understand one another, we can
begin." He pointed across the gym. "Ten laps. Let's go." He clapped his
hands, turning around. "ALL OF YOU!"

 He stared as the startled teenagers began to trot obediently around the
gym, the odd one occasionally glancing around at him in a kind of morbid
fascination. He wondered how many parental complaints were going to be
waiting for him tomorrow morning.

 ***

 In the latter part of the afternoon as he pushed open the door to the
Faculty Lounge, Elliot was struck by the similarity between the lounge and
the squad room at the end of a shift. Both had an air of exhausted
desperation and an atmosphere of battlefield camaraderie that transcended
their careers. 

 The few teaching staff that hadn't raced out of the building as the final
bell echoed through the halls were huddled in small groups, speaking in
hushed tones, as if tired of the sound of their own voices. Others packed
their briefcases with equal amounts of either panic or resignation. He had
scanned the room, and instantly homed in on the most comfortable looking
couch in the room, plopped himself down and shut his eyes and with a small
groan, allowed his body to relax.

 ***

 Toby sighed, gingerly pulled another drawer open and began to shuffle
through the student files. He hated having to go into Admin at the best of
times, so being trapped in a small room with a psychotic cabinet and the
reincarnation of Baby Jane twice in one day was too much. Toby imagined
the Head Administrator attended some satanic night school in order to
perfect her vinegar-soaked attitude. Maybe she was the one who trained his
cabinet to bite.

 Another page fell through a gap and he stared miserably into the depths,
knowing he had no choice but to fish it out, but also knowing he was about
to get another war wound. One more reason why not following his dad into
Law felt like a terrible mistake, career-wise. Maybe this was just karma
for being the family black sheep. Or, more accurately, the 'rainbow'
sheep. With a resigned sigh, he slipped his hand in the drawer. 

 Pulling out half the page and peering at a long scrape on his wrist, Toby
ran a frustrated hand through his blond hair, cursing both the filing
cabinet and fact he hadn't gotten around to getting a haircut. Please let
the stylist be open late Monday's, he prayed silently. Let the new guy be
gay, he added, but mostly, please, please, please let me take a chain saw
to this thing. As if alerted by his vindictive thoughts, the senior Admin
assistant snipped across the office at him. "Are you done with those yet,
Tobias?"

 His back to the woman, Toby pulled a face. "Yeah. Just about." He slammed
the drawer a touch harder than necessary. It pissed him off severely that
the old bat talked to him like he was a mere underling and not the head of
his department. 

 "Well, perhaps you'd be a dear and run along to the Faculty Lounge to see
if that new boy had the gumption to do what he was supposed to with those
papers."

 Toby was very impressed that he kept his face neutral while his stomach
did the rodent rumba. Any other time he'd have told her to 'do it
yourself', but he wasn't above using it as excuse to introduce himself.
"Um... 'new boy'?" 

 The other woman sighed sharply. "Mr. Aluminium Siding."

 Toby shook his head, feigning ignorance just to annoy her

 "Oh, for goodness sake! You know - him this morning. 'Mr.
Muscle-Bound-No-Brains-Phys-Ed'."

 Toby couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "Oh, him." He
shrugged. "Hey, you know, I thought he seemed okay."

 The harridan pulled a face, slamming a book shut. "Seen the type. Ten to
one he'll have handed in his notice and high-tailed it already. All body
no balls." 

 Toby bit his lip to keep from smirking. "Well, I'll just go see, shall
I?"

 Mrs. Fisher peered over the top of her glasses. "What, his balls?"

 Toby laughed out loud. "I was thinking more of your paperwork, Selma," he
said as he made his way out of the office. "But you never know," he added
under his breath, a grin of wicked anticipation plastered all over his
face.

 **

 Toby scanned the Faculty lounge for the 'new boy', eyes narrowed, the
sense of anticipation in his belly disproportionate to the moment. It has
been a long time since he had been interested in anyone like this. What
amazed him was that he hadn't yet spoken to the other man, only shared a
couple of glances; so why his dick was pinging all over the place was
beyond him. Maybe he wasn't dead from the waist down like Genevieve sniped
- she was just pissed she hadn't got the right equipment to make him
'ping'. He spotted the new guy over by the coffee machine and, taking a
few calming breaths, walked over. 

 Opening his mouth to speak, Toby paused at the sight in front of him,
opting instead to stare in silence. School had only let out a few minutes
ago, but the other man was already slumped carelessly in the chair, legs
stretched out in front of him, arms flopped to the sides, eyes shut. He
had a light sheen of perspiration on his face, and the underarms of his
wonderfully tight shirt were several shades darker than the rest of it.
Beneath his lids, his eyes darted back and forth. He looked both debauched
yet angelic. Toby wondered if this was how the man looked after a bout of
hard, dirty sex.

 A small smile moved his lips while Toby allowed his eyes scour the body
laid out in front of him, making the most of the view. The poor guy looked
exhausted; surely the first day at school couldn't have been *that* bad?
His arm jostled as someone brushed by her. He turned to look, hoping the
expression on his face didn't give anything away. A small black lady,
holding a Garfield mug was looking past him, staring down at Elliot
sprawled over the chair.

 "Newbies. The first day always hits like a Mack truck." She shook her
head. 

 Toby smiled. "You think?"

 "Uh-huh." The woman poured herself a coffee. "Seen a million of 'em in my
time. They come, they go." She stirred her drink. "Some last a while
longer than others; depends on the backbone." She sucked the spoon clean.
"Am I right, or am I right?"

 He glanced back at Elliot. "Oh, I would imagine you're right, Flo; as
always." His blue eyes couldn't resist travelling back up and down the
supine body. "Think this one's gonna make it?" he asked with a smile.

 Tilting his head one way then the other, he watched as Flo narrowed her
eyes and studied the other man. "Don't know. He's sure got the body, but
has he got the balls?"

 Toby's mouth dropped open at that comment, momentarily unsure that he had
heard correctly. He blinked a couple of times. "Um... well, I wouldn't
know about that," he said, feeling a blush creep up his face. "It's not
exactly my area of expertise." Not for want of wishing, he thought to
himself.

 Flo Maynard stood beside him grinned, her eyes sparkling with wicked
inference. "Well, between you and me, dear, if I were twenty years
younger, I'd damn well make it *my* area of expertise!" She glanced at
Toby, winked and moved away, leaving him staring, lost for words.
Sometimes, he wondered how well-closeted he was at work. 

 Toby shook his head and looked back down. Mr. Body Beautiful hadn't moved
an inch, his eyes scurrying away behind closed lids at odds with the
utterly relaxed pose of his body. Toby watched and idly wondered if it
would freak this handsome man out to know he was being admired by another
guy? Would it earn him a punch in the nose if he could read Toby's mind
and see exactly what he'd like to do with that incredible body? Toby bit
back a sigh and shook his head a little to compose himself. Last thing he
needed were lurid homosexual fantasies written all over his face. "Hey,"
he said softly, touching his shoe to Elliot's ankle before his
sub-conscious took hold and totally screwed with his ability to hold a
conversation with this man. "Hey - wake up."

 Grunting, Elliot screwed up his face. He shifted in his chair, his legs
falling open at the knees, the tight track pants pulling in a way that
would have satisfied the curiosity of both Flo and Mrs. Fisher with
regards to the equipment department. Toby squashed a smirk and averted his
eyes.

 "Wake up, Dozy," he said, louder.

 "God... Wha'?" Elliot groaned long and loud, pulling himself upright, one
hand scrubbing his face. "Jesus," he muttered to himself.

 Toby grinned down, watching Elliot still struggling to sit up straight.
"So, how'd your first day at school go? Were the other kids nice to you?"

 Frowning up, Elliot pulled a face. "If I were less of a gentleman, I'd
tell you to go fuck yourself," he muttered.

 Toby laughed out loud. "Wow, Prince Charming in the flesh."

 Elliot grunted and scrubbed his eyes some more. "Remind me to bring in a
bullhorn and a .45 tomorrow."

 "Wow." Toby sat down. "That bad, huh?"

 "I am absolutely shattered," he said, looking at Toby with pathetic eyes.
"I don't know how they do it. Teachers, I mean. God... One day of it and I
want to either run screaming or shoot myself."

 Toby smiled. "Wow. I didn't realize this was *literally* your first day.
Man..." He shook his head. "Given in to helpless panic, yet?"

 "God, yeah. I feel like I haven't the first clue what I'm doing and by
God, don't they know it." He ran his hands over his head. "Damn; she was
right."

 "Who was?"

 "That lady, earlier." He waved his hand chest-height. "Small, black;
spoke to me this morning; said they 'smell fear'." He winced. "She was
right. Maybe I should ask her to teach me some tricks."

 Toby snorted. He could imagine what tricks that particular educator might
want to impart. 

 "What?" He gave Toby a sideways glance. 

 "Oh, nothing." Toby cleared his throat. "So, you think you can cope with
coming back, tomorrow?"

 He was silent for so long Toby thought he was seriously contemplating
calling in sick. 

 "Guess I don't have much choice; the guys would kick my ass if they knew
I'd been beaten by a load of girls."

 Toby dipped his head to look, one eyebrow raised with a crazy flare of
hope. "The 'guys'?"

 Elliot looked up, a strange expression on his face. "Um... You know, the
guys - my friends. Back home."

 "Oh." Toby's heart had jumped, then slammed back down. Yep; too good to
be true; he knew it.

 Elliot was staring at him, and Toby wondered what was going on inside
that handsome head. A pair of incredible blue eyes peered from under
knotted eyebrows. Toby swallowed. All his conversational skills dribbled
away under the most intense gaze he had ever been subjected to. What the
hell was the man staring at?

 Elliot blinked and shook his head slightly, thrusting his hand out. "I'm
Elliot. Elliot Thomas."

 Toby reached out and placed his hand in the large palm and prayed his
wasn't sweaty. "Oh, yeah. Sorry; I'm Tobias. Beecher. Toby - Beecher." He
grinned stupidly, cursing his clumsy tongue.

 "Hey," Elliot said, grasping the hand a shade longer than Toby was
comfortable with. "So - do you prefer Toby or Tobias?"

 "I... um..." Toby felt he really didn't care what this man called him, as
long as he did it while he was lying spread out, naked in his bed. The
visual was so sudden, so strong that it snatched Toby's breath away. He
ran his tongue over his lips, cotton-mouthed. Shit, he thought. "Just,
well... Toby's fine, I guess."

 Elliot's mouth quirked. "You guess?"

 "Toby - yeah; it's fine... It's okay, yeah, Toby," he said vaguely, his
eyes riveted to the amused mouth, imagining it all sorts of places, doing
all sorts of things. 

 Elliot grinned and held up a hand. "Don't tell me, at the weekend your
name is 'Mandy', yeah?"

 Toby's mouth dropped open as Elliot's words registered. "Excuse me?"

 With a little groan, Elliot put his hands to his face and scrubbed the
heels of his palms into his eyes. "I can't believe I just said that.
Christ; I'm sorry; I am so tired."

 Toby felt his eyebrow rise. "*Mandy*?" 

 "Ignore me," Elliot muttered, his face still in his hands.

 Toby regarded the top of Elliot's head, noted the slightly thinning hair,
wondering why it wasn't the least bit of a turn-off.

 "Do you always insult people the first time you meet them?" he asked
mildly.

 Elliot glanced up. "No; Look, 'm sorry. It was just a lame attempt at
humor." He straightened up. "Forgive me?"

 Toby inclined his head. "Sure." He felt reasonably sure Elliot wasn't
making some obscure joke about his sexuality. "It'll cost you a coffee,
though."

 Elliot looked at the machine on the counter in front of them. "Uh-uh, not
a chance." Toby said hastily. "I don't drink that shit." 

 "Don't tell me you're delicate."

 "I might be. Don't judge everyone by your own measure."

 Elliot grinned. "You'd be surprised. I'm just a big old softie, inside."

 Toby snorted. "I bet. You take gym class, which means by definition,
you're a sadist."

 "Hey!" Elliot was both amused and offended. "I could be really hurt by
that comment."

 "Oh, and the 'Mandy' thing isn't a mortal blow to my masculinity?"

 Elliot nodded. "Okay, okay. You win. I'll spring for coffee."

 Toby pointed a finger, feeling reckless and deciding to go with it. "You
can take me to a little coffee house I know, after school later in the
week." He grinned. "That is, if you're still here."

 Chuckling, Elliot ran his hands through his hair. "It's a deal."

 "Okay, then." Toby felt a real surge of excitement. Maybe not a date,
exactly, but standing right next door to it, in his limited social
calendar. 

 Elliot stretched and sniffed as he lifted his arms, wrinkling his nose.
"God, I stink." 

 "I shouldn't think so." 

 "Yeah, I do," he said, lifting one arm and leaning over. " See? "

 Toby backed away, holding his hand up and laughing. "Uh-uh, no way.
That's way beyond the call of duty."

 The other man smiled slightly. "Coward."

 "Absolutely," Toby nodded, watching him pull a face as he took another
whiff. The urge to lean over, bury his nose in an armpit to judge the
state of Elliot's personal hygiene was almost painful. He swallowed and
pasted a smile on his face. "I hate to interrupt your grooming, Elliot but
I need all that paperwork you were given." He held out his hand. "C'mon;
I'll get my ass kicked by Satan's handmaiden if I don't get it from you."

 Elliot chuckled. "Oh, yeah, I bet. Okay." He reached down to his
briefcase, lifted a hefty pile of papers out and began to sift through
them. "I think they're in here." Most of them slipped to the floor.
"Shit," he muttered, grabbing at the rest as they headed the same way.
"Damn; I have so much fuc..." he swallowed. "So much freakin' paperwork,
I'm not gonna sleep at all tonight."

 "Stop whining, you've been chasing a few girls around a gym all day. How
hard can that be?"

 The look he gave Toby bordered on homicidal. "I'm gonna let that one
slide," he growled, shoving a handful of sheets at her. "Lucky for you I
don't have my gun with me," he muttered.

 "You own a gun?"

 Elliot gave him a strange look. "Um, yeah. Had it for years. Don't get to
use it much, though."

 "I don't know - maybe you should bring it in to class tomorrow. Be a cool
teaching aid."

 Elliot made a rude noise. "Don't tempt me."

 Toby stood up. "So, shall we see you tomorrow?"

 "Yeah," came Elliot's listless reply. "I guess." He rubbed his hands over
his face and the papers slid to the floor again. 

 "Right; look forward to it."

 Elliot just grunted and bent to pick up his papers.

 Toby walked away, shaking his head, a wry grin on his face. Not quite the
result he'd fantasized about, but then nothing short of a stunningly adept
blow-job would have matched up with his thoughts about the 'new boy'.
Still, there was always tomorrow.

 Chapter four

 "So, what've you got?" Cragen sat on the edge of Elliot's desk. He folded
his arms.

 Stifling a yawn, Elliot shook his head. "A splitting headache, way too
much paper work; but aside from that, not a lot, Cap'n."

 "Running around with all the little girlies too much for ya, big guy?"
Fin teased.

 Elliot glared. "I'd like to see you try it."

 "I always fancied myself as an educator," Munch said with slow
thoughtfulness. "I like the idea of melding young minds to mine."

 Elliot snorted. "Trust me, those minds don't need any melding."

 "An' they really don't need melding to anything you got to offer, Spooky"
Fin added, flicking a rolled-up wad of paper at his partner.

 Olivia tapped her pen on the desk. "You get anything hinky from other
staff, El?"

 "Not really. I don't get to see much of them, stuck in the gym areas." He
gave in and yawned hugely.

 Cragen frowned. "How 'bout in the Faculty areas?"

 "Just starting to get a feel," Elliot said, suddenly flashing on the
memory of holding Tobias Beecher's hand in his. He felt his eyebrows knot
together. Where the hell did that pop up from? He cleared his throat and
pushed the thought away. "Not all the faculty go in there, but I'm
starting to make notes on those that have." He flipped open his notebook.
"I'm gonna concentrate on the male members of staff..."

 "You sure about that?" Cragen interrupted.

 Elliot nodded. "Statistically the perp will be male; I spoke to Huang
about the tone and language in the emails and he agrees we're most likely
looking for a man."

 "Okay, then. Go on."

 "Three I've ruled out because they were in Europe at the times of the
first mail shots, even though I guess they could send from abroad, it
doesn't seem likely." He turned a page. "Apart from that, I've got details
on all the other men, just haven't met them all yet." Toby's funny grin
popped back into his head, and Elliot shoved it away. Why did this man's
face keep entering his head? He chewed his lip and considered. Cop's
instinct, perhaps? Maybe his gut was trying to tell him something about
Tobias Beecher. 

 "See if you can finagle a way to talk to them soon." 

 "I'll do my best to hook up with them in the Faculty Lounge or
cafeteria." He shook his head. "No-one seems to pay much attention to the
New Boy." Except Toby, of course. And there he was again.

 Cragen tapped his pen on the blotter bringing his mind back to the
office. "Elliot. You need to start talking to the other staff members,
too. Cosy up; ask advice, make friends. The maintenance guys can only
cover so much of the school at a time. And they don't get to go in the
places you do."

 Elliot nodded, still thinking about blond hair and blue eyes. "Uh-huh.
Sure."

 "What've you done about the changing-area cameras?"

 "Um - I put up a couple of hangers, a few sports posters - the perp must
have watched me decorate the whole place," Elliot said with a small grin.
"Prob'ly drove him crazy, seein' all his precious angles lost."

 "Well, let's hope he blows his cover trying to fix them. Okay; we'll wait
to hear from you tomorrow." Cragen frowned down at Elliot. "You might want
to get an early night, Stabler, you look like hell."

 With a sour look on his face Elliot watched the older man walk away.

 "Oh, Elliot, surely someone talked to you on our first day?" Olivia
asked, leaning back in her chair.

 "Well," Elliot scratched his chin and opened his mouth to tell them about
the gentle teasing conversation he'd had with Beecher, but found himself
shrugging instead. "I guess they were mostly busy."

 "That's harsh, man," Fin told him, refilling his coffee mug.

 Elliot sat staring at his desk, vaguely stunned at what had just come out
of his mouth. What the hell was that all about? He ran the whole scene in
the lounge through his mind. Nothing untoward had happened. Why was he
being so economical with the truth?

 "Perhaps they didn't want to contaminate themselves with the taint of a
doomed man," Munch grinned.

 Elliot held up his middle finger. "I did okay," he said with more
conviction than he actually felt.

 "So all fired up for tomorrow, then?" Fin handed him a mug of coffee.

 "Yeah." Staring into the dark brew, Elliot bit back a sigh. "No problem."


 ****

 Fighting his way through the morning crowd, Elliot glared at a couple of
students unlucky enough to bump into him. Part of the deal with the school
had involved the continued assessment for the pupils, and he'd been up
until late the night before trying to keep Green's records up to date. He
hadn't thought there was a profession that thrived on paperwork as much as
that of a cop, but he was fast re-assessing that idea.

 "Mr. Thomas?"

 Elliot walked on for a couple of steps them stopped and turned as it sank
in it was *him* being addressed. "Yes?"

 The Principal, Mrs. Donnelly stood with her hand out, indicating the open
door to her office. "Might I have a word, in private?" she said without
smiling.

 Elliot nodded and walked inside. The door clicked behind him and he
guessed he was about to get the answer to the 'how many complaints'
question. 

 "Please, sit."

 With a tiny sigh, Elliot sat down, propping his briefcase against the
chair. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Donnelly?" he asked, folding his hands
in his lap. This wasn't unlike being summoned to Cragen's office to get
his balls busted. The woman even perched on the edge of the desk like
'dad'. He bit back a smile.

 "Mr. Thomas," she began slowly. "When I agreed to this undercover
operation being conducted in my school, I was assured that there would be
minimal disruption, marginal distraction for the pupils."

 Elliot nodded. "Absolutely; we all want this to go as smoothly as
possible." He knew what was coming next.

 Donnelly sighed. "Quite. But this morning I find not one, not two, but
three separate complaints about your teaching methods on my desk. Three
complaints; and you've been in school for just one day."

 Only three, Elliot mused. Out of thirty students, that wasn't bad.
"Yeah?" he said, neutrally. "In regard to what, exactly?"

 "The nature of the complaints regards you allegedly 'shouting' at the
students."

 "I raised my voice, yes." 

 The Principal's eyebrow lifted and Elliot smiled. He held a hand up in
submission. "Okay, so I shouted. But I'm not accustomed to being ignored.
I was raised to understand that it was rude to ignore an adult when they
speak to you."

 Mrs. Donnelly dipped her head in a slow nod. "I agree. But it's not
normal practise, however for a teacher to 'scream' at the pupils in order
to gain their attention." She looked at him with pursed lips.

 Elliot laughed out loud. "Scream? No-ones ever described the way I shout
quite like that."

 "To quote one of the parents; 'He screamed across the gym at the girls'."

 Elliot bristled. "Yeah, well, as the complainant wasn't actually there,
that statement can only be classed as hearsay." He frowned. "Maybe these
parents ought to be wondering what makes a teacher want to 'scream' at
their daughters. But look; it was a one-off situation. I had to get their
attention and instil my authority, okay? I can't see it happening again."
He held up a warning hand. "But I can't guarantee that. While I'm here to
catch a paedophile, I'm not gonna let a bunch of teenagers treat me like
something they wipe off of their shoes. And I won't allow bad language in
class."

 "I quite agree. But perhaps it might be more helpful if you were to
exclude any offenders and send them to my office."

 "Then they miss the lesson - where's the sense in that? It'd be more
beneficial to make their muscles regret letting their mouths run the
show."

 The woman sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose the same way Cragen
did, making Elliot smile. His smile faded at her next words. "Do you have
anger management issues, Detective Stabler?"

 "Do you really think I'd be allowed in here if I had?" he replied,
perfectly aware he hadn't answered her question.

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

 A painfully clear visual of the front of his locker flashed into Elliot's
mind as he held her gaze. He was fairly sure nothing showed on his face.
He waited until she relaxed slightly before continuing. "Look, all the
class completed the lesson; they got the required level of exercise that
day, and hopefully learned a few manners. No problem," he reasoned.

 A small smile tugged at the Principal's mouth. Elliot thought that under
any other circumstances, she might agree with his methods. He held up both
hands. "Okay, look. I'll try and keep the level of 'screaming' down, and
get this whole thing over with as soon as possible, okay? I don't want
complaints drawing attention to me, any more than you want the hassle.
Deal?"

 She stood up and offered her hand. "Deal. Let's hope we can put this
unpleasant business behind us very soon."

 "You got that right," Elliot muttered, shaking her hand. "Sooner the
better."

 The Principal laughed softly. "Teaching isn't to your taste, Detective?"

 Elliot grimaced. "God; no. I don't know what possesses anyone to want to
do this."

 "Each to their own, I suppose. Perhaps you could think of this is a
learning experience for you, too."

 Elliot thought about that as he wandered down towards the gym. Learning
experience, yeah. Right.

 ***

 Toby sat huddled in a dark corner of the lounge between a bookcase and a
pile of old boxes, resting his head on the back of the chair, staring at
the ceiling. He had been there for the past ten minutes, and wasn't
planning on moving any time soon. He figured he was entitled to the break
from the hum of the photocopier, the smell of toner and the constant drone
of students.

 He smiled a small, vague smile in the shadows. Huddling away in the
shadows reminded him of the bad old days at High School, sitting in the
washroom stalls, pretending he wasn't hiding from everyone. As a professor
of psychology, he understood all too well that 'meditating' in quiet
corners of the school was just the adult manifestation of his teenage
insecurity. Some things don't change, he thought; except now he could
taking refuge in a comfortable chair, instead of the toilets. At least the
smell was better in here and he could pretend to be marking papers or
something.

 There was a thump as the outside door banged open and the hurried
footsteps of women teachers barged in. Toby sighed; there goes peace and
quiet.

 "...so I said to him, if you want to be mothered, go back home, dude. I'm
not into breast-feeding." There was a round of giggles and Toby winced at
the visual it summoned.

 "You are so bad, Cheryl."

 "So, you seein' him again?"

 "Uh-huh. Next Tuesday."

 The sound of running water drowned out what was said to that, and Toby
was sorely tempted make a run for it.

 "...and never even took his socks off." Someone else was saying as the
water stopped flowing.

 "That's gross. I don't know why you put up with him."

 "Cause he's well-hung!" More giggles followed that. 

 "Aw, thanks. I'm not gonna be able to look him in the face next time I'm
in the science block."

 "Who needs to look at his face, y'know? I'd rather stare at the package,
any day."

 Toby winced and braced himself to stand up. It was time for him to leave,
before things got more graphic. His ass lifted from the chair. If he was
real quiet, he could slip out without any of the women noticing him.

 "Yeah, well, I tell ya, ladies, talking of not being able to look a
fellow educator in the face, I found someone new that qualifies BIG time.
Green's substitute." A low whistle echoed around the lounge. "Have you
checked him out? Man, is he built."

 Toby's body froze, mid-raise.

 "Never mind built, is he hung?"

 There was much laughter at that. "Dunno - I can't seem to get my eyes off
of his ass long enough to check out the package."

 Toby felt his face warming up. He shouldn't be listening to this.

 "That good, huh?"

 "You have no fucking idea, baby. He can bounce me round the gym any day."

 "Hey, I gotta go check that out."

 "I saw him first, bitch. If what's between his legs matches the rest of
his body, then I am movin' in, ladies; he don't stand a chance."

 If Toby had been something lower down on the food chain, he'd have felt
his hackles rise. An overwhelming sense of propriety towards Elliot washed
over him. They had no right, dammit; he saw the man first; no way any of
these slatterns could claim dibs.

 "He married?"

 "Since when did that matter to Sherrie?!"

 "Fuck you - but nope. No ring. I scoped that out already." There was a
snap of a compact case. "Blue eyes, great pecs and biceps that come out
THIS far. I am *so* havin' me some of that."

 Laughter followed that statement as the women filed back out of the
lounge, leaving Toby standing behind the bookcase, his hand clenched in a
fist, his whole body seething. The rational part of his brain knew he had
no claim to Elliot, but right now, the primal part of him wanted to rip
Sherrie's throat out for even looking. If there was any sniffing around to
be done, then Toby was damned sure he was going to stick his nose in there
first, even if it meant he got it punched. His mouth set in a determined
line. Time to move things up a notch.

 Chapter five

 The last two days had persuaded Elliot that lunchtime was definitely the
best time of day. Well, aside from going home time, that was. The food in
the cafeteria was very good - he queued up with his tray hoping the meals
in his kid's schools were as nutritious as these. He didn't care in the
least that staff had to wait in line with the students. The kids were
leaving him well enough alone. It seemed that news travelled fast about
the new substitute. No-one had put a foot wrong in his any of his classes
since that first outburst. His stomach growled as he walked nearer to the
service area, his eyes scanning the choices with anticipation.

 "Hey," a voice said behind him. He turned around. A woman was standing a
shade too close to be strictly polite. He blinked in surprise.

 "Hey, what's up?" he said, still distracted by the prospect of food; his
eyes wandering back to the serving hatch.

 There was a chuckle from the woman. "You tell me."

 Elliot's eyes widened. What the hell? He turned back to her, keeping his
face neutral. "Have we, um, met?" he asked, avoiding the actual question
posed.

 "Not yet. I'm Sherrie. Hi; and you are...?" She laughed again and leaned
forward. "I mean apart from very nicely put together, I mean," she
breathed.

 Elliot's mouth dropped open as the penny dropped. She was hitting on him.
The woman was actually *hitting* on him. The thought slammed into the back
of his mind with such unaccustomed force that it collapsed in a stunned
heap.

 "I'm a... I mean, I'm..." he stuttered, shaking his head a touch to
focus. "Elliot," he got out, finally. "I'm um, Elliot." 

 "Well, hello there, 'um-Elliot'." She gave him a huge smile, red lips
peeled back from perfectly even teeth. Late twenties, he guessed, very
blonde, around 5' 7 and very smartly dressed. Also, judging by the body
language and wide smile, *very* interested in him. 

 "Hi," he replied lamely. The idea that he was being chatted-up still had
his ego reeling in shock at the base of his skull. 

 "Yeah. Whaddya want, man?" The server behind the counter tapped his tray,
almost knocking it from his fingers.

 "I, er.." He frowned, looking helplessly at the food despite having
studied the selection all the way down the line.

 "I'd recommend the pasta," a warm voice breathed into his ear, bringing
the back of his neck out in goose-bumps. "You need the energy."

 Elliot glanced behind at her, eyebrow raised. 

 "You know; being into 'physical activities'." She grinned at him and
lifted her own eyebrow.

 Elliot turned back to the server, completely flustered. He'd been married
too long and divorced too recently to be used to this kind of attention.

 The man rolled his eyes and pointed his spoon. "Be the pasta, then,
yeah?" 

 "No." Elliot cleared his throat. "I'll take the chicken, with mixed
salad. Hold the dressing," he added.

 "Very admirable," Sherrie said. "You look after yourself."

 "I try," Elliot replied, watching his tray being filled.

 "I can see that. Hell, we can *all* see that." 

 In his peripheral vision, Elliot was aware that she had shifted and
leaned back to look at his rear-end. He turned to stare at her, amazed at
her openness, a little flustered and, if he was honest, more than a little
flattered. 

 "Very nice," she smiled, giving him a wink.

 "Erm... thank you," he said, a laugh tickling at his throat. "Sherrie,
was it?" 

 "Was, and still is, Elliot."

 "Move along, pal, okay?" The man serving the food sighed heavily.
"Whaddya want, lady?" 

 Moving along the line, Elliot selected a fruit juice and with thoughts of
a mid-afternoon sugar-crash, a large slice of Danish. He tried not to
imagine Sherrie checking out his ass as he walked away to find a table
with just one free seat. Flattering as it was, he didn't think he had the
energy to cope with remarks like that the entire lunch break. Maybe with a
little advanced warning, he could dust off his ego enough to indulge in a
little harmless flirting, but right now, it was still sitting in the
middle of his head, blinking slowly.

 Smiling to himself, he almost walked right past someone speaking to him.
It was only when a hand reached out towards his sleeve that it registered
he was being addressed. He looked down. "Hey, what's up?" he said,
mentally wincing at himself for repeating his earlier words.

 "There's a free space here," Toby said, pulling out the chair and patting
the table. "If you want to join me, that is." He grinned up at Elliot, his
eyebrows wiggling. "I'm not due to be 'Mandy' until Saturday."

 "Very funny," Elliot slid into the seat and laid his tray down, glancing
to the man next to him. "You're not gonna let me live that down, are you?"


 "Nope."

 "Yeah, well. I already apologized. What more d'you want?"

 Toby bit down on the obvious and vulgar reply, content with a smile. "Oh,
I'll think of something eventually, I'm sure."

 Elliot gave him a strange look. "Okaaay. Should I be worried?"

 Laughing, Toby shook his head. "I don't know. You'll have to let me
know." He didn't know if Elliot realized he was being flirted with, but
the man seemed to coping with the banter.

 "Man, you don't frighten me," Elliot said, lifting a sprig of parsley
from his food. "I've had 11th grade gym today." He placed the greenery on
the edge of his tray. 

 "Ugh. Rather you than me." Toby mock-shuddered. "The thought of that lot
minus part-way decent clothing freaks me out."

 Elliot grinned. "You could open a stall with the amount of jewellery I
had to confiscate. Why do they insist on turning up to class dripping in
it? Do they think I'm blind?"

 "Women." Toby pulled a face and grinned. "Go figure."

 "You got that right," Elliot muttered, sending Toby's insides into a
dance of glee over the barely disguised bitterness in that statement.

 "I'll never get more than a slippery grip on them," Toby said, deadpan.

 Elliot's head shot up, as the words registered. He breathed in harshly to
laugh and began to choke on his food. He coughed and spluttered into his
hand, turning red, still laughing. His eyes watered up and spit squeezed
out between his fingers.

 "Gross," Toby told him and handed over a napkin.

 Taking the sheet of tissue, Elliot mopped his eyes and mouth, drying his
hand while coughing to clear his throat. His breath still hitched
occasionally. "Jesus," he muttered. "You wanna warn me before you say
things like that."

 "Like what?" Toby feigned innocence.

 Elliot waved a hand. "You know, the slippery thing." He began to chuckle
again.

 Toby nodded. "I'll take it under advisement. Elliot doesn't do graphic
descriptions."

 "Not over lunch, anyway."

 "Noted." Toby grinned. He basked in the atmosphere of camaraderie.
"Anyway, all slippiness aside," he said, taking a chance and grinning
wider at Elliot's expression. "That's why I thought you might need
rescuing." He waved his fork in Sherrie's general direction.

 Elliot pulled a wry face. "That obviously out of my depth, huh?"

 Toby lifted his chin. "Sherrie had quite a welcome-wagon going on." 

 "Yeah, I noticed." Elliot shovelled salad into his mouth, glancing back
over to the lunch line, amused that Sherrie was still looking at him. He
couldn't help grinning as she winked. 

 "Seems you've made a big impression on the Home Ec. department."

 Elliot shrugged with one shoulder and focussed back on his lunch.
"Hhhmmm."

 "Not your type, then?" Toby prompted, feeling a growing sense of
excitement.

 Replying with another small shrug, Elliot chewed before considering his
reply. "Not really."

 "Yeah?" Toby's lips quirked into a curious grin. "Why's that?"

 Elliot shoved another load of chicken into his mouth and chewed, frowning
as he gave the question serious thought. "Dunno," he said at last. 

 "Oka-ay." Toby gave him a sideways glance. "I can see why you're not an
English major."

 Elliot laughed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and poked
the fork towards Toby. "Oh, yeah."

 Toby grinned and shook his head. "Minimalist but ultimately, eloquent."

 Elliot took a sip of juice. "And I suppose you're gonna tell me that
means something real deep?"

 "I might."

 "Great." Elliot grunted and attacked his food. That was all he needed,
another Huang in his life.

 "Ah. I'm sensing that bothers you"

 "Nope." 

 "You don't sound too sure." Toby grinned. "Maybe you think I'm trying to
shrink you."

 Elliot gave him the benefit of his well-practised stare. "Are you?"

 "Now, that's one thing that's not crossed my mind, Elliot." Toby told him
with a grin that outweighed the comment.

 Elliot frowned and wondered if he was missing something. "Okay," he said,
giving up trying to read the other man. He speared some meat and held it
up to view before attacking it. Chewing, trying to fit this new
information into the picture he was building around Mr. Tobias Beecher.

 "You always study your food before devouring it?" 

 Elliot stopped chewing. "What?" 

 "Your food." Toby pointed. "You stare at it as if daring it to make a
move."

 Wrinkling his nose at the other man, Elliot shook his head. "You always
analyse the way people eat?"

 Laughing, Toby shook his head. "Why does my subject always make the jocks
uneasy, I wonder?" he asked, sucking his juice through the straw. He
glanced down at a stray droplet of orange and caught it with his tongue.
He looked up, waiting for an answer.

 Elliot stared. "Jesus wept," he whispered.

 Toby looked back at him. "What?"

 "That tongue..." Elliot winced. "My God."

 Toby grinned. "What? This little thing?" He stuck out the object in
question. It reached past his chin.

 "What the hell?" Elliot leaned back in his chair. "You need a separate
zip code for that? Or permit? God! Put it away!"

 Choking back a laugh, Toby pulled his tongue in and wiped his chin with
his hand. "I'll have you know this thing is very widely appreciated for
its versatility."

 Elliot shook his head. "By whom?" He held up a hand. "No, please. I don't
think I want to know what you can do with that."

 "You might be surprised," Toby told him, smirking.

 Elliot stared. Was there an undercurrent to that statement? He wasn't
sure. "Oh, doubt that, somehow," he said slowly.

 "Don't be so sure." Toby gave a wink and gathered up his tray. He stood
up and smiled down. "And you still owe me a coffee, Mr. Jock. I haven't
forgotten. What are you doing after class tomorrow?"

 "Um... Not much, I guess," he said, making the snap decision that buying
Toby a cup of coffee fell under the directive 'get to know the suspects' -
if he didn't look too closely at his reasons for wanting to spend time
together. He reasoned with himself it was because he enjoyed their
friendly banter and left it at that.

 "Just a warning, Elliot..." Toby leaned over. "I don't do 'cheap'. I have
great taste." He grinned and stood straight. "Forget the local joe. This
is gonna cost you."

 Elliot grunted and watched the other man walk away, a thoughtful look on
his face. There was a little niggle at the back of his mind but he
couldn't for the life of him think what bothered him about Tobias Beecher.
Surely he wasn't so starved of male company that he was latching on to the
first overture of friendship he'd received outside of work? Maybe he
should talk to Cragen about it. Without knowing why, he brushed that
thought aside almost as soon as it crossed his mind.

 Chapter six

 Elliot stretched out on top of his bed and yawned. He clicked the tv off
and rolled over, rubbing his face in the pillow. It was nearly the
weekend. God; he was looking forward to that more than he would have
thought possible. Never mind the fact that he'd have to go into the
station-house; that was fine; he was just pathetically grateful he didn't
have to go into school. 

 Jesus, he thought, wriggling under the covers. It was just like being a
kid again. Did all teachers think this way? Probably, he smiled, thinking
of the mass exodus through the front doors at last bell. He sighed and
pulled the covers up to his nose, turned on one side then the other. 

 Fifteen minutes later he flopped over onto his back. "Go to sleep,
Stabler," he told himself, his voice sounding vaguely ridiculous in the
dark.

 He eased his eyes closed and instantly downloaded a full-colour snapshot
of Tobias Beecher grinning at him. "Oh, God," he groaned. "Go away!" He
threw himself over onto his belly. That damned man was driving him nuts.
Everywhere he turned Tobias Beecher lurked; in the parking lot, the dining
hall, the corridor. It was as if his subconscious was screaming at him to
pay attention to the blond for some reason. And as much as he had trusted
his gut instinct throughout his career, he found himself desperately
hoping this time it was utterly wrong. He *really* didn't want Toby to be
their perp.

 Trouble was he didn't know exactly why that should be. It shouldn't
matter to him who was the actual bad guy; all he ought to care about was
catching him and slamming him behind bars. But a part of him cringed
whenever he tried to fit Toby into the pattern. And that was driving him
absolutely crazy.

 He sighed and stared at the ceiling. He knew his grandmother would have
tried to feed him some crap about past lives or freaky 'connection' being
the reason he was pre-occupied with this guy. But past history and freaks
aside, this was something he hadn't come across before. He'd never
obsessed about another man like this. 

 A nasty little part of his mind held its hand up in the dark and pointed
out that actually wasn't *strictly* true. He rubbed his face in his
pillow, trying to erase the memory of gun oil and sweat from his mind; but
without Kathy's presence in the bedroom, they seeped in under his
defences, bringing the sting of something sharp and bitter along for fun.

 Turning onto his back, Elliot forced his eyes wide open to stare up at
the ceiling until he could justify the stinging in his eyes as something
other than what it really was. The empty bed offered no protection against
regret as the memories slipped in, eager to join him and cuddle up.

 It hadn't been his fault; not really, he'd told himself in the years that
followed. He had been very young, and Digger had been very, very
insistent. Being young, horny and curious enough to wonder what it felt
like to have another guy put his hands on you was no big deal - just part
and parcel of being barely twenty and in the Marines. But you didn't tell
*anyone* that you kept going back for more of the same; and you certainly
didn't mention it to your new wife You just buried it all under twenty
years of guilt and denial.

 Elliot brutally scrubbed his face with both hands, disappointed with the
way that his body tented his sheets. He was embarrassed that he still felt
that way about Digger and in turn, angry that he should feel that way. As
he lay there, studiously ignoring his erection, the thought suddenly
occurred to him that Toby possessed the exact same shade of hair as
Digger.

 "Oh, Jesus," he said very quietly, not sure if it was a curse or an
entreaty.

 *** 

 Tobias Beecher rolled over in his bed and sighed. It was two hours since
he'd turned out the light and he was still wide awake. Actually, he was so
tired he felt like he could sleep on a chicken's lip, but the sad little
flip-chart of Elliot Thomas he held in his head just wouldn't go away.

 Every time he closed his eyes, his sub-conscious slapped a full-color
visual on the back of his mind. He possessed perfectly captured images of
Elliot in the library, the corridors and the canteen - and one
particularly delicious slow-mo movie of him strutting across the car park.
As usual, those scenes rattled rapidly through his head like foreplay. And
as usual, they were followed by better ones from his imagination.

 In his head he watched Elliot slowly undressing before he took a long,
leisurely shower. After that Toby gave himself a stunning visual of a damp
Elliot prowling across his bedroom to lounge in his bed. And naturally,
that lead to him lying on top of the other man, licking the droplets of
water from his skin, one by one.

 Toby groaned and rubbed his face in his pillow. When did he turn into
such a fucking pervert? Just about the time Elliot Thomas walked into the
Admin Office, his dick replied. Jesus; it was hard again - seemed like he
spent every waking moment with that part of his body pushing at the front
of his pants. Thank God he taught at a desk.

 Sighing with resignation, he flung himself on his back and reached over
to the nightstand. No sense in fighting it, he told himself as he pushed
the sheet down. He'd have to go the store for more of this stuff, he
thought as he squeezed a small splurge of moisturizer into his palm. He
eased his hand over his aching dick and his eyes slid shut as he gently
squeezed his cold fist over himself. Shit. Yeah - that was good.

 He had it down to a fine art now - all he had to do was close his eyes
and it was instantly Elliot's mouth on him. He pushed his hips up into his
fist, a tiny groan of appreciation dribbling between his lips. 

 In his mind, Elliot was lying naked between his legs holding his pelvis
tight, forcing him to lie still. His imaginary Elliot slid his mouth up
and down twice and then took his cock right to the back of his throat.
Toby whimpered, teetering on the very edge of orgasm as his Elliot held
his cock in the depths of his throat.

 One more push. He held himself back, prolonging the sensation. One more
push.

 Behind his closed lids he watched Elliot look up at him and slide his
mouth back up the shaft, those intense eyes never leaving his as he held
the very tip of Toby's cock between his lips. Toby watched him smile as he
rubbed the underside of his cock head with the flat of his tongue. The
rough texture sparked fireworks in Toby's groin - he shoved against the
restraining hands as Elliot's mouth opened and swallowed him back down,
sucking hard.

 With a strangled groan, Toby came hard into his fist.

 ***

 Elliot rolled over, buried his head in the pillow and groaned, his hips
grinding down, pressing his erection into his mattress. Those memories
still had a power over him that he couldn't deny, however many cold
showers and Hail Mary's he forced on himself. Twenty years was a long time
to pretend he couldn't remember the things Digger did to him that made his
dick ache; a long time spent pretending to be the perfect husband and
father. And just look how that had turned out.

 Elliot rolled over in frustration, his hand resting on his chest -
instantly bringing back the memory of another big hand touching his body.
No man had touched his bare chest before or since - his father hadn't been
interested in physical contact, his brothers only in fighting. 

 He remembered how Digger's hand had made him shiver; rough enough to make
his touch almost painful. He shuddered as his hand brushed over first one
nipple, then the other. Lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling but
seeing only the rough canvas of a Marine tent, he ran his palm across his
quivering stomach, tracing the remembered path further down to the rise of
his pubic bone.

 His breathing already harsh in anticipation, he forced himself to wait,
his conscience struggling with this delicious, aching need. He was single
now, so why should jerking off to Digger's memory be something to feel bad
about? He ran his tongue over his lips, staring at the ceiling. He had
kept such thoughts at bay while Kathy had been in his bed, he could count
on one hand the times he'd weakened and found relief in the past. Count
them on the hand that now crept over his groin to grasp his penis. 

 Unencumbered by guilt, his hand made the decision for him. Fingers at
first caressed, then grasped harder, staying true to the memory of how it
had felt all those years ago. Hard and fast, the other hand roughly
pulling at his balls.

 It didn't take very long. Sensitized by months of abstinence and the
freedom to recall every stroke, Elliot shuddered with a swift orgasm that
bordered on painful. Straightening his arched back, he let his breath out
through clenched teeth and gradually relaxed, his hand glued to his cock.

 Fuck-Shit-Damn, he thought glaring up in the dark, angry at himself - not
for relenting and jerking off, or even for making a mess on his clean
sheets, but for the realization that although he'd started off by thinking
of Digger, it was the thought of another blond man that had pushed him
over the edge. 

 Chapter seven

 "Get into pairs, guys; and without all the fuss you made last lesson,
okay?" Elliot mentally steeled himself for an afternoon packed with 90
minutes of torture. The lower end of the grades weren't too foul to teach,
but the upper age-group was whole other ball game.

 "Kinsett and Brown, put those earrings on my desk." He held up a finger.
"No; no arguments. You can have them back at the end of the day, if you
come ask me real nicely. I don't want to see you wearing them in gym time
again, you hear?"

 He turned slightly. "Jones, don't think I can't see you; get down from
there, and Rodriguez, if I have to tell you about that again..." He
winced. "Yeah, you know *exactly* what I'm talking about, young lady; just
quit it, okay? And Pugh, I don't think any of us need to see quite that
much of your bare skin. No, trust me, we don't. Pull your shirt down or
report to the Principal's office, okay?"

 Sighing, he put his hands on his hips. Raising his voice to a level that
got the attention of all present, he jerked his chin towards the window.
"Let me ask you; how many laps around the school field will it take to get
you focussed, today?" He gazed around at sullen faces. "You don't wanna
find out? Well then, perhaps we can make a start on the lesson before I
start drawing my pension?"

 As twenty-odd teenaged girls began to do stretches and warm-up routines,
Elliot glanced at his watched and mentally counted off the minutes until
the end of the day.

 ***

 The piercing squeal went up at around ten minutes before the end of the
lesson. Elliot's head whipped round to locate the incident, his hand
automatically reaching for a non-existent gun.

 "Mr. Thomas! Rosie broke her leg!"

 Battling the urge to slap the over-excited squealer, Elliot pulled his
hand away from his imaginary holster and strode over to where one of his
pupils lay sprawled on the floor.

 "What now?" he snapped.

 "Rosie broke her..." 

 He held up a hand. "I don't need a half-assed House diagnosis, thank
you." There was a snigger at his words and he frowned, angry at himself
for using inappropriate language. "What've you done now, Rosie?"

 "I fell."

 "No? Really?" Two could do the sarcasm thing, Elliot thought as he
crouched down to look at the offending limb. He reached out a finger.

 "NO! It hurts!" The girl pulled her leg away.

 "Hurts like the time you broke your arm?" he said, with a raised eyebrow.
"Or like the time you broke your head?"

 A teenaged lip pooched out. "Yeah, well; this *does* hurt. Look." She
pulled her sock down to show a slight discoloration to the skin.

 Elliot grinned. "Well, what d'you know? An actual injury. How 'bout that?
Must be your lucky day."

 "You're horrible, you know that?" Rosie said with a scowl.

 "Yeah? Must be the company I keep." He stood up. "You'd better go to the
nurse's station, okay?"

 "I can't walk."

 "Yeah, you can."

 "Can't."

 "I'm sure you can."

 "I *can't*!" 

 The pooched lip wobbled slightly and Elliot frowned. Last thing he wanted
was a complaint about reducing a pupil to tears. He rolled his eyes. "So
just what do you suggest I do, Rosie? 

 The girl smiled at him, all thoughts of snivelling seemingly gone. "You
could carry me to the nurse."

 Elliot looked down at her. "I'm *not* carrying you."

 "I can't walk."

 "Yeah, you can." He looked around. "You two, give her a hand up." He
snapped his fingers. "C'mon."

 "We can't lift her, Mr. Thomas, she's way too heavy." The small crowd
backed away. 

 Elliot's frown deepened. "C'mon, you guys."

 "No way. Besides- " A girl with impossibly heavy eye makeup stepped
forwards. "It's against school regs for us to lift each other. We might
injure ourselves. We could, like, sue the school, y'know?"

 Elliot stared incredulous. He looked from one face to another, reading
absolute refusal to comply with this basic request. "And what about if I
injure *myself*?" 

 "You won't; you're much stronger than we are." 

 There was a staccato of anonymous giggles at that. Elliot blew an
aggravated breath out, unable to decide if he was being mocked or set up.
He glared down at Rosie. "You sure you can't stand?"

 "Oh, quite sure, Mr. Thomas." The girl smiled and held her arms up in
anticipation.

 A set of warning bells as loud as squad car sirens went off inside
Elliot's head. Never mind the possibility of injuring himself, the reams
of paperwork involved in an accusation of impropriety was enough to make
him hesitate. Rosie smiled up at him as he scowled, running several escape
plans through his mind.

 "Rayda," he said, turning to a wide-eyed girl with alarming lamb-hair.
"Go down the corridor, see if there's anyone around."

 "But why?..." she began.

 "Just go, okay?" he barked, instantly regretting the way it made her
jump. He watched her trot across the gym, her hair bouncing and promised
he'd apologize to her, later. He turned back and sighed, regarding the
crumpled girl on the floor. 

 "I think you're quite strong enough to carry her, Mr. Thomas," a
thin-looking brunette told him, leaning in a little too close for Elliot's
comfort. "I mean, she's not very heavy, and just look at the size of your
arms." Elliot's face was blank, the inference not registering until he
felt a finger tracing down his arm from shoulder to elbow. 

 "Don't," he said, standing up quickly. The narrow-eyed expression on
Rosie's face and the seductive trace of a finger that lingered on his skin
more than answered his question; he was being set up. He stepped back a
touch, his foot landing on the top of someone else's; he stumbled,
apologizing instinctively as several girls reached out to steady him. It
was on the tip of his tongue to thank them, until it sank in that these
'steadying' hands where staying longer than strictly necessary; one on his
side, another below his track pants waist, just about on the swell of his
ass. 

 A flush of embarrassment rushed through him. The sirens had been joined
by the chorus of an old 80's song. This was not good; this was *really*
not good. He was alone, vulnerable and open to all sorts of accusations if
he allowed this to escalate. He inhaled, moving back, inadvertently
forcing the hand on his ass to press harder. He glanced behind, ready to
shout as another girl slid in to stand impossibly close to him. 

 "Steady there, Mr. Thomas." she said in a low voice, placing her hand on
his forearm.

 The gym door slammed open, interrupting Sting's voice whispering in the
back of his head.

 "Need a hand, there?" a voice called across the floor.

 Elliot turned, a surge of relief plummeting into a lurch of dismay as he
saw Toby walking towards him. In a staff of over 30, he had to get *this*
man coming to his rescue. Typical crappy karma - the memory of last
night's frantic jerk-off session, still agonisingly fresh. Fighting a
blush, he barely noticed the hands slipping away from his body.

 "Yeah," he said, clearing his throat as the girls began to back away. "I
think I'm gonna need some help gettin' Rosie to the infirmary."

 Toby joined him in the crowd and looked down. "Rosie, huh?" He tilted his
head one way then the other then smiled. Crouching down, he peered at
Rosie's leg. "Well, which one is it, this time, Miss. Murray?" Rosie
pouted at him. "Oh? Cat got your tongue, too?" Toby mocked. "Poor baby."

 Elliot frowned, wondering what was up with Toby's attitude. "What's...?"

 Toby held a finger up to interrupt. "Hang on, there, Mr. Thomas, I think
Rosie has something she wants to say."

 Elliot waited, watching Rosie's face darken and scowl. She made a face
like she was chewing a razor blade, then sighed dramatically. "Oh, fuck
it," she said at last. With a dramatic flounce, she stood up, put her
hands on her hips and gave Toby a filthy look. "Happy?"

 "Ecstatic," he told her with a grin, he stood up and pointed at her
ankle. "You might want to invest in better quality makeup, y'know?"

 Elliot stood with his jaw hanging as the bell for the end of lessons
sounded, and his class made a mass exodus for the door, Rosie up there
with the best of them, not a limp in sight. He stared at the swinging
door. "What the hell?" 

 Toby laughed. "Behold, it's a miracle!"

 Elliot gave him a sour look and folded his arms. 

 Toby shook his head, still chuckling. "Don't worry - you'll learn."

 Elliot gave his an incredulous look. "Learn *what*, exactly?"

 "The explosive combination."

 Screwing his face up, Elliot shook his head. "Huh?"

 Toby leaned towards him, his voice low. "You know - a roomful of hormonal
girls, one drama queen..." He even leaned closer, his breath tickling the
edge of Elliot's ear. "And one drop-dead *fucking* gorgeous teacher."
Placing his hand on Elliot's shoulder Toby leaned back and gave it a
gentle squeeze. "Ka-boom."

 He winked and began to walk away, leaving Elliot standing in the middle
of an empty gym, his eyes as wide as open as his mouth.

 Chapter eight

 "So give me the rundown on the Faculty," Olivia said from the other end
of the phone line. "Who d'you like for this?"

 Elliot scratched his chin and flipped the page in his notebook, balancing
the phone on his shoulder. "Well, out of the thirteen male members of
staff in school, I've narrowed it down to eight possibilities." He reeled
off the names, subjects and details he'd collated almost from memory.
"They all have the opportunity, but I'm not sure about motive."

 "I'll pass your list on to the others. What about tendencies?" 

 Elliot ran his finger down the page. "Two of them are married with kids,
three singletons, two dating women on staff and one..." 

 "What?"

 "Well, it seems to me this guy's got no love-life to speak of."

 "Oh?" Olivia sounded interested. 

 "He doesn't seem to be interested in datin' at all. Lives alone up-town,
so the office gossip goes."

 "Name?"

 Elliot didn't need to flip back the page. "Beecher," he said.

 Liv made a thoughtful noise. "What d'you think?"

 Elliot chewed his lip. "I don't know. He seems okay." 

 His partner sighed. "You talk to him at all?"

 "Some," Elliot replied, wondering why he wasn't offering Liv the
information about the break-time chats he and Toby enjoyed. The tips the
other man had offered on surviving the business. And he certainly wasn't
about to share what Toby had called him earlier. Or any of the other
personal thoughts beginning to plague him. "He works in a different area
to me."

 "You need to talk with him. See what kind of vibe you get, Elliot. Get to
know him."

 Elliot squirmed in his office chair. Why did getting Olivia's okay to
'get to know' Toby feel weird? "Actually, I'm supposed to buy him a coffee
later, to apologize," he said.

 "Apologize?"

 Elliot felt himself go warm. "I said something dumb to him; this is to
make up for it." 

 "Great." Olivia sounded pleased. "Talk to him in depth. Feel him out."

 The warmth Elliot was experiencing blossomed into a full-blown blush.
"Oh, okay. Sure." He was immensely thankful he wasn't face-to-face across
the desk when she said that. He'd never get away with the change of color
in his face. As he raised his eyes to roll them, he got a sharp jolt at
the sight of the man under discussion leaning against the doorjamb,
staring across the room at him. His guts bounced up then plummeted through
the office floor in a nano-second. 

 On the other end of the line, Olivia was still speaking. "Keep me
updated, on everything, Elliot. And you take care, okay?"

 Elliot opened his mouth, simultaneously wondering what Toby had
overheard, and what he should say next. "Yeah, I will." He ran his tongue
over his lips. "So, I, um... love you, too, honey," he said in
desperation.

 He gently placed the receiver down, cutting short Olivia's screeched
response. He watched Toby's eyebrow crawl up his face. Elliot cleared his
throat. "Hey."

 "Hey." the other man said, a smirk hinting around his mouth. "'Honey'?"

 Elliot stared, a thousand different replies fizzing through his head. He
shrugged, unable to decide what to say.

 "The little woman?" Toby teased.

 "God, no." Elliot frowned, an automatic response to the thought of Olivia
in that context. "Nothing like that." He fiddled with the blotter on his
desk.

 Toby pursed his lips, noting Elliot's defensive reaction, the nervous
fingers and the frown. He tucked them all away in the 'There's Hope, Yet'
drawer in his head and gloated.

 "Right, okay, then." He clapped his hands together. "Get your shit sorted
out, Mr. Phys. Ed., it's payback time."

 ***

 The small, intimate coffee house wasn't what Elliot had been expecting.
It seemed a little too quiet, dark and mysterious to be viable, but Toby
had been right about one thing - the prices. He winced as he paid and
carried the tray over to the table. The prices must be how the place kept
going with so few customers. Or maybe that was why there were so few.

 "Shit, man. You weren't kidding about your taste in coffee," he grumbled,
placing the tray down.

 Toby laughed. "My taste in everything is impeccable."

 "I'll have to remember that," Elliot grumbled, sinking into an impossibly
soft chair. "God, this is a great chair," he sighed, wriggling his ass to
get comfy. "Think I could buy this for my apartment?"

 "I would imagine; most things are available for the right price."

 Elliot closed his eyes and leaned back, thinking about that comment, but
deciding he was reading too much into it. 

 Across the table, Toby watched him, relishing the opportunistic moment.
His eyes raked over Elliot's face, tracing every line with his gaze. The
other man was devastatingly handsome, even the generous nose didn't
detract from his appeal. It didn't take much of an imaginative leap for
Toby to place that relaxed body on the crisp white sheets of his bed,
lying waiting for him to explore every inch. His mouth literally watered
at the thought. 

 "Shall I be mother?" he asked, with a slightly unsteady voice.

 "Yeah, sure," Elliot sighed, his eyes still shut.

 Pouring the coffee, adding the cream and one sugar in his own, Toby
leaned back in the chair dragging his mind from the now rumpled sheets.
"No sugar, right?"

 Elliot opened his eyes. "Right." He was surprised. "How...?"

 "I pay attention in the lounge."

 "Oh." He leaned forward to take the mug. "Thanks."

 Toby watched as his companion sipped at the hot mug full. "You like it?"

 Elliot nodded. "Yeah - great."

 "That's a good one to start off with." 

 "What've you got?"

 "Darker blend." Toby held the mug out. "Want to try it? Might be a little
strong for you, though." 

 As predicted, Elliot took both the challenge and the mug with a small
frown. "You think?" he said, narrowing his eyes. 

 Clearly the competitive type, Toby smiled to himself - learning this man
was so much fun. "Perhaps. But then I don't really know which direction
your tastes go, do I?"

 Elliot gave the other man a peculiar look over the rim of the mug as he
sipped. That sounded very much like he was being sounded out for something
- maybe Mr. Beecher was trying to find out if his tastes extended to
kiddie porn. Maybe he wasn't so far off with his gut instinct that there
was something more to this man than met the eye. But he hoped not.

 "Shit!" Blinking in surprise, Elliot held the mug away. "Damn, that's got
a hellva bite to it!"

 Toby smiled. 

 "You like to live dangerously," Elliot said, handing the drink back and
licking his lips.

 "Indeed," Toby held Elliot's gaze as his tongue slipped out to gather up
the drop his mouth had left behind. He made a production of gathering
Elliot's leftovers up with his tongue. The hot side of the mug and
knowledge that he was being observed sent a terrifically erotic jolt
through his body, and judging by the way Elliot's brow knotted together,
it clearly bothered him too. Toby placed the mug on the tray and Elliot's
eyes slipped down to his own drink. He looked a little confused and a
little worried. Both of those emotions were fine with Toby, just as long
as 'turned on' was hidden away in there somewhere, too.

 Toby sat back and lifted his chin. Time to poke the cage. "So, Elliot; a
little bird tells me you've been asking questions."

 Elliot looked up quickly, guilt written all over his face. "Yeah?" Shit,
he thought he'd been discreet; so much for his abilities as a detective.
"About what?"

 "Me," Toby said, looked smug, steepling his fingers together. "Now, why
would that be, d'you think?"

 Elliot shrugged. "Dunno."

 Toby sat in silence, regarding the other man. He watched as he began to
fidget again. Elliot was clearly uncomfortable, but Toby wasn't sure why.
He filed the slight blush and defensively folded arms away for later
reference. In his head, the drawer labelled 'There's Hope' slid open.
"Well, whatever the reason, I'm flattered," he said, at last.

 Elliot pulled a face, but didn't say anything. Damn the rumour-mill. Word
got around faster than the 'flu in a girls' school. That thought made his
mouth twitch. 

 "Something funny?" Toby asked.

 "No... Well, maybe."

 "Care to share?"

 Elliot shrugged. "It's nothin', really."

 Toby gave a little smile. "You're a strange one, Elliot."

 Laughing softly and taking a sip of his coffee, Elliot nodded. "I can't
argue with that." He blew out a breath. "Just ask my wife."

 The 'Hope' drawer in Toby's mind slammed shut so fast it made him blink.
"Oh?"

 "Well, ex-wife, actually." Elliot rolled his eyes. "Geez, I think it took
her all of five minutes to get over me after the divorce was finalised.
Guess I was a little too 'strange' for her, too."

 "Ah, I see." The drawer slid open, just a sliver. "Is it too personal to
ask what happened?"

 Elliot shrugged. "You know, I still haven't figured that one out, yet.
But apparently 20 years isn't long enough to make your mind up what you
want out of life." He frowned. He had never verbalized that feeling
before. 

 "For you, or her?" 

 Elliot stared at across the table for a long time without answering. Toby
didn't think he was looking at him, but rather something inside of
himself.

 "Both of us, I guess," he said at last, so softly that if Toby hadn't
been staring at his lips, he might have missed the words.

 "Well, they do say you never stop learning."

 Elliot's gaze slowly focussed. "Yeah. Right; I'm sure learning a lot of
stuff about being suddenly single and past 40."

 "Welcome to my world."

 Elliot smiled. "We make a right couple, huh."

 Toby grinned back, his mental drawer flinging itself wide open. "Why,
Elliot, this is so sudden," he laughed. 

 Elliot looked confused for a moment, before blushing furiously. "You know
what I mean," he muttered.

 "Oh, go on," Toby teased. "Don't spoil the moment."

 Elliot shook his head, smiling, and willing his blush response to calm
the fuck down. The sudden visual of the two of them as a couple had
slammed into his head and rolled in an untidy, panting heap next to his
imagination. The visual had jolted him so deeply it took his breath away -
mainly because of the way his ego was busy jerking off to that thought. He
busied himself over his mug. "Behave," he muttered, his blush and smile
taking any real venom from the word. 

 Toby just carried on laughing, loving gentle teasing of the moment and
the way Elliot hadn't stomped on him for making the comment. "Hey, I'm
past 40, too. I think I earned the right not to behave if I don't want
to."

 "Is that so?"

 Toby nodded. "I think it's a moral obligation of the over 40's not to
give a shit any more, don't you?"

 Elliot laughed. "I think you're gonna lead me into temptation."

 "Only if you want me to." Toby kept his tone light. He was treading
carefully, wanting to get a clear green light before crossing the line.

 Elliot was staring at the other man, his mug gripped tightly in his hand
to stop himself from cupping the other man's face. The urge to lean over
to taste that bitter coffee straight from Toby's tongue was making his
hands shake. He swallowed. "If I'm the best you can find to tempt, you
need to set your sights a little higher, man."

 Toby laughed. "Hell, at my age, my sights can only cope being set on one
gorgeous man at a time."

 Elliot swallowed. "That's twice in one day you've said that about me."

 "And your point is?" Toby teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

 "Well..." Elliot hesitated. 

 "Well?" 

 "I'm just not used to it, is all," he finished lamely.

 "Being told you're gorgeous, or being told you're gorgeous by another
man?"

 Elliot smiled slightly. "Both," he said softly.

 Toby inclined his head. "I applaud your honesty." He sipped his drink. 

 "Thank you."

 When Elliot offered no further comment, Toby grabbed his courage and
swallowed his pride. "So, Elliot; do you *want* me to lead you into
temptation?"

 Elliot held the other man's gaze for a long time while he thought about
his reply. The tone of voice, the look on Toby's face had made Elliot
shiver slightly. The unspoken question about the other man's sexuality was
now answered without a shadow of doubt. All that remained was for Elliot
to decide whether he had the courage to admit out loud that the attraction
was mutual. 

 Technically speaking, he was free to do whatever he wanted with whomever
he chose; but just as technically, Toby Beecher was still a suspect in an
ongoing investigation.

 But despite all the reasons why it was a very bad idea to think of Toby
in less than a strictly professional manner, there were two things buzzing
around inside his head like two bi-polar wasps, driving him nuts. One was
the way Digger's hands had felt on his body, and the other was the thought
that Toby's hands would feel the same way. 

 No, it was professional suicide and just plain crazy for him to even
entertain the *thought* of exploring a relationship; so he didn't know
which of them was more surprised when the words finally made it out of his
mouth. "Don't think I'd take much leading."

 Toby's entire body flushed as Elliot's words filtered into his brain.
He'd been fully expecting a verbal slap for flirting so openly. A stupid
grin began to spread across his face; he toned it down in an effort to
appear less like a raving lunatic.

 "Maybe I should amend 'strange', to surprising," he said, tilting his
head in acknowledgement.

 "Yeah, well," Elliot shrugged with one shoulder. "I'd hate to be
predictable."

 Toby laughed. "That's certainly one thing you're not. I'm intrigued -
what other surprises do you have hidden away, Coach Thomas?" 

 And that was when it hit hard. Elliot placed his mug on the tray. One
other thing Elliot Thomas Stabler had hidden away, was that he was a fully
paid-up police officer. What the hell was he doing? The coffee turned
bitter in his mouth. He looked up.

 "Toby," he said, hating the way his mouth seemed to relish the word.
"I..." He hesitated. What could he say that wouldn't sound either moronic
or trite?

 Opposite, Toby sat very still. "You, what?"

 "I have... Um... I have-" Elliot shook his head in annoyance at his lack
of mature, adult articulation. "I'm-"

 "What? You're irredeemably straight? Have a secret brood of kids?" Toby
smiled a little sadly, feeling the hope slide away, dragging his dignity
and pride with it. "Or maybe you're really a woman?"

 Elliot smiled. "No, yeah-" He shook his head sharply, eyebrows knitting
together in a deep frown. "Look, it's not that I don't-" He squirmed. "You
know? It's just, well, things are..."

 "Complicated?" The word had years of resigned disappointment draped all
over it.

 "No - yeah." Elliot groaned and put his head in his hands. "I don't know
how to say this - what I mean is, I don't- you know..." He inhaled and
tried to gather his words. "I'm not..."

 "I get it, Elliot."

 "You don't, you really don't."

 "Yeah," Toby felt his mouth trying to dredge up a smile. "I do. You don't
have to pussyfoot around the issue." 

 "I'm not trying to-"

 "And please don't insult me by feeding me pathetic lies."

 Elliot stared across the table at the face that had been keeping him
awake for days and felt his insides shrivel at the hurt all over it. "Oh,
shit," he breathed softly.

 "Yep; that'll be the one."

 "Toby, I-"

 Toby placed his mug down on the table. "No, it's okay, Elliot. I
understand."

 "No, you don't."

 Toby nodded, standing up. "No, really, I do. I've been here before, I
know how it goes." He gave a bittersweet smile. "I won't make a scene;
I'll be cool at work. I'm a big boy." He laughed without any trace of
humour. "Not that you're the least bit interested in *that*, of course."
He moved around the table and looked down. "See you around, Coach Thomas."

 "Toby..." Elliot reached out to snag the other man's hand, but Toby
neatly side-stepped. 

 "No. I don't think so. I'm not one for playing the drama queen." Allowing
himself a long moment to stare into eyes that he still thought were just
too beautiful to belong to a man, Toby nodded and walked away. 

 Elliot bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from shouting after
him as the other man strode across the room. His hands gripped the arms of
the chair to keep from striding between the tables to grab him back.

 Chapter nine. 

 The ringing of the telephone dragged Elliot from the shallows of
unsatisfactory sleep. He screwed his face up and reached across the bed to
the dresser and snagged the cell without opening his eyes.

 "What?" he snapped.

 "Is that any way to answer your phone?" Olivia asked.

 "You woke me up."

 "Elliot, it's eleven thirty."

 "What?!" Elliot craned to look at his bedside clock. "Shit," he muttered.

 "Yeah, shit. Dad wants to know where the hell you are, and I'm running
out of excuses to cover your ass."

 "Oh, fuck."

 "You said it, partner. Now quit 'fucking' and get said ass in here."

 She rang off before he could bite back about her lewd assumptions. He
threw the phone down the bed and rubbed his face. Christ. He was screwed;
and not in a good way.

 **

 The door slammed as he left Cragen's office - hard enough to make the
glass rattle and Elliot wince. The reaming out he'd just gotten for being
late had just about put the cap on the end of a week in which he felt like
an unwilling participant in an insomnia experiment. It hadn't helped that
he'd made exactly zero progress in tracking down the perp - something that
Cragen had outlined in blistering detail, for the best part of half an
hour.

 He offered no defence; just nodded in the appropriate places and agreed
that he had no idea what the fuck was wrong with him and that needed to
get his thumb from up his ass and make an effort to do his damned job.

 Cragen's bawling-out had nicely rounded off one of the most excruciating
weeks he'd ever spent, plagued with trying to ignore his semi-permanent
hard-on. He was just about wiped out.

 "Tough meeting, huh?" Olivia handed him a mug of coffee as he collapsed
into his chair.

 "You'd better believe it." He took a long swallow from his mug,
immediately comparing it unfavourably with the coffee he had shared with
Toby. 

 "No leads, then?" 

 "Nope. No clues, no X marks the spot, no trail of breadcrumbs; nothing."

 "Oh." Olivia sipped her own drink, her elbow on the desk, staring at him.

 Elliot bore the scrutiny for a minute or two, then scowled across the
scattered paper. "What?"

 "Nothing."

 "Quit it, then."

 "Quit what?" 

 "You know what."

 "Nope." She shook her head.

 Having the benefit of siblings who took psychological torture to the
extreme, Elliot wasn't going to fall for that one. He leaned forward.
"Quit *staring*, damn it!"

 "I wasn't."

 "Yeah, you were." He shuffled the papers on his blotter.

 "I wasn't - I was just looking."

 He let at least 30 seconds go by before he had to ask. "Looking at what?"

 "You."

 He narrowed his eyes. "Me?"

 "You look like shit, El."

 "Wow - gee, thanks. I appreciate that. You wanna kick me in the balls
while you're at it?" he snapped.

 Her eyebrows rose. "I'm just saying..."

 "Don't feel you have to."

 "Well, excuse me for giving a damn," she sniffed.

 Elliot sat and stewed in the icy silence between them. She was right, he
knew; he did look like shit, his bathroom mirror had told him as much this
morning. But she didn't have to actually say it, did she? He wouldn't
dream of telling *her* she looked like shit.

 "I'm sorry," he said eventually. "This case is driving me absolutely
crazy. I seem to be running as fast as I can just to be one step behind.
Man, I'm just so fuckin' tired."

 She tilted her head to one side, regarding him. "Yeah, I can see that."
Smiling to show she forgave him, she put her mug down. "You okay, El? I
mean, apart from being tired, that is? You seem, I dunno, sad, somehow."

 Elliot stared at her. "Sad?"

 She just shrugged. Elliot took another mouthful off coffee. He didn't
know what to say to her. 

 "Maybe I'm just reading too much into the bags under your eyes," she
smiled.

 He gave her a sour look. "Don't start."

 She held her hands up. "I give in. You look fine; No-one's hijacked your
smile, wrinkled tees shirts are 'in' this year and the unshaven look is
just a fashion-statement, okay?" She stood up. "I'm going to get a
sandwich and I'll bring you back a warm chicken sub. And when I do,
partner, the 'real' Elliot Stabler had better be sitting in that chair, or
I'm going to stomp your food to death. Clear?"

 He grinned. "Crystal, boss."

 "Right."

 "Extra mayo," he called as she stomped out of the squad room.

 ***

 Wednesdays stunk; it was official. Not only were there two more damned
days in the week to get through, but having two back-to-back periods of
aerobic classes in a gym shirt that felt like a straight-jacket had
shrivelled Elliot's sense of humor to the size of a flea's gonad.

 Despite being at opposite ends of school, the fates contrived to have him
bump into Toby at every damned opportunity. They found themselves two cars
down in the car park; were placed opposite one another in the world's
longest staff meeting, and ended up standing next to one another in the
cafeteria two days running. There had been no offer to sit down at Toby's
table on those days, and he didn't think the rest of this week was going
to be any different.

 There was no animosity, as promised; Toby was unfailingly polite to him,
spoke when spoken to, but that crazy spark of fun he'd seen dancing in the
other man's eyes had vanished. Gone, too, was the expression of desire
Toby had whenever he looked in Elliot's direction. And Elliot missed that
look more than he would have thought possible.

 The last two classes had suffered mightily for his ill-temper and lack of
sleep.

 "Do it again," he yelled, closing his ears to the cries of protest from
the gasping pupils sprawled on the gym floor. "Do it again and get it
right, this time - and if I hear any more whining I'm gonna make you do it
BACKWARDS!"

 He stood scowling as the girls dragged themselves up, his hands on his
hips, breath ragged from keeping up with them and a light sweat breaking
out on his face. He could feel his shirt sticking to his back and knew he
was being a stereotypical hard-bastard coach, but he wasn't about to allow
himself or them, to ease up. A tough workout would do the kids more good
than harm, and maybe if he pushed himself hard enough, he'd be too
exhausted to lie awake in his bed thinking about Toby.

 "Faster!" he shouted, jogging alongside the slowest in the class. "C'mon!
You can do it! Pick it up!"

 He followed the class's desperate scramble over the equipment, scolding,
cajoling, verbally nipping at their heels, pushing them relentlessly over
obstacles, under bars, around skittles until his chest heaved, every
breath caught in his throat and there was no sound but the strangled gasps
and groans in the room. An untidy heap of girls collapsed along the edge
of the gym, resentment burning in their eyes, but lacking the energy to
complain. Elliot glared right back. 

 "You got three minutes to get your breath back then we do it again," he
snapped. "Faster."

 A chorus of appalled protest rang out, all who were physically capable of
voicing their dissent. Elliot just shook his head. "Uh-uh. One more time."
The course he set up in the gym was as close as he could make to the NYPD
physical exam. He reasoned with himself that he was doing the girls a
favour by giving them a taste of how tough it was to pass the test to get
on the force. It hadn't crossed his mind to wonder if any of the girls
actually thought about joining up. 

 "Mr. Thomas?" 

 Elliot was standing with his back to the class, staring into space,
trying to stifle the images of Toby, desperately trying to recapture the
feeling of exhilaration he got when he passed his own test.

 "Mr. Thomas, sir."

 Maybe when this was all over he could explain to Toby what he hell he had
been playing at, giving him such a bunch of mixed signals. As long as Toby
wasn't involved in the case, that is. Elliot frowned, the very idea
stinging him somewhere deep inside.

 "Mr. Thomas!"

 The slight panic in the voice cut through Elliot's dark thoughts. He
turned. "What?"

 "Maz says she's gonna puke, sir." A girl with impossibly blonde hair
pointed to her left. Elliot glanced over. Maz sat very still, a glassy
look in her eyes, her skin a waxy mask of misery.

 "Meryl?" He frowned and stepped forward. "You okay?"

 A small shake of the head said that Meryl wasn't about to trust herself
to open her mouth to let even the tiniest of words out.

 Elliot and weighed up the odds the girl was exaggerating against the task
of cleaning up a pile of puke. He sighed, erring on the side of the least
distasteful scenario. "Okay. Take yourself into the locker room and get a
drink of water. Sit down for a minute and see if you feel any better."

 Maz stood up very carefully, her legs shaking slightly. She made her way
very slowly across the gym, avoiding all the equipment as if it might leap
out and bite her.

 "Okay; the rest of you-"

 "Oh, God; can't we rest a bit more, sir?"

 Elliot's eyes raked across the crumpled class. "Rest? You just had a
rest!"

 "Yeah, all of two minutes," came a grumble from the back of the group.

 "That might be two minutes more than you get in the field," he snapped
back.

 "Field?" 

 Baffled expressions across swept the class. Elliot could have slapped
himself. "I mean, if you were in some kind of tricky situation."

 "Like what?"

 He bit at his bottom lip, trying to think of a cover-up. "Oh, you know,
like out on the street, or something."

 A bark of ironic laughter turned his head. "On the street? You think
we're gonna be running the gauntlet of skittles and gym mats on the
streets? Whaddya think we're gonna be doing? Being chased by the cops?"
Any girl that had breath left, laughed out loud. 

 Elliot rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking literally, Einstein; just that
life's not always a laugh-riot; you need to be on top of your game if
you're gonna have a fighting chance out there."

 A girl called Eva, with more mascara than was necessary shook her head.
"Man, that spell in the Marines musta really screwed with your head, Mr
T."

 Elliot blinked. "What?" He scowled, annoyed to feel a guilty stab low in
his belly. "What d'you mean?"

 Eva pointed to his arm. "Marines. You got the same tat as my uncle.
You're a jar-head." A snicker rippled around the class.

 Elliot shrugged. "I served, yeah."

 "Figures," the girl sighed. "Uncle Pete's a real fuckin' hard-ass, too."
The snicker turned to murmurs of agreement.

 "Language," he warned half-heartedly. "Or you can do a circuit all by
yourself."

 "Hey-" the girl held up her hands. "I give up, man. Peace."

 Elliot checked his watch without really looking at it. "Yeah, well - it's
time we went round again."

 The chorus of disapproval almost gave him second thoughts. He shook his
head, determined to do what he set out to do. "Uh-uh. Top of your game,
remember?"

 "I say we wait for Maz. I mean, she'd hate to be left out." Eva grinned
and folded her arms.

 He checked his watch, really looking a it this time. "Yeah, go see how
she's doin', Charlie," he said to the last girl in the line. "Tell her to
get a move on."

 "Do I have to?"

 He gave her a look, glanced meaningfully at the equipment laid out
waiting, then stared back at her again. Rolling her eyes with a huge sigh,
Charlie got up and stalked across the gym, muttering as she went.

 "I heard that," Elliot called after her, resisting the urge to grin, the
tall girl reminding him so much of Olivia it was priceless.

 A girl with cropped hair held up her hand. "Is this something you have to
practise, Mr. Thomas, or does it come naturally?"

 Elliot blinked. "Huh?"

 "That look."

 He stared at her. "What look?"

 "The one like you're shitting broken glass."

 With their breath back, the laughter rang out through the entire gym.
Elliot bit down on his cheek to keep from joining in. 

 "Observant, if not particularly articulate, Kia."

 "I try." She nodded, acknowledging that he had let her get away with that
one.

 "Maybe you'd do better if..." He paused as Charlie came up to him.
"Well?"

 "She's gone, sir."

 "What?"

 Charlie sighed. "Gone; as in 'not there'?"

 An freezing wave of dread washed over Elliot from his head to his
training shoes, instantly chilling his sweaty body. Gone. She was gone.
Gone from the gym that he was supposed to be observing in order to catch a
pervert that wanted to... The cold wave turned to ice, curdling his lunch,
making him feel sick.

 "Oh, shit," he muttered, his feet already moving towards the changing
room doors. 

 A lone voice called after him. "Sir?"

 "Everybody, stay here!" he yelled over his shoulder.

 "But..."

 "STAY!" he roared as he piled through the double doors without bothering
to look back.

 Gone, gone, gone... 

 The word chanted in time with his harsh breathing as he crashed into the
room. He snatched glances left and right, making sure Charlie wasn't
mistaken, all the while, Cragen's voice screamed at him that he had
failed, he had let him down, let the squad down; but more unforgiving, he
had let Meryl down.

 "MERYL!" he yelled, not caring it came out more like a scream. 

 He pushed out into the corridor, almost falling over his own feet. He
stumbled, arms pin-wheeling and glanced up as he crashed into the opposite
wall. All the blood pounding in his head turned to ice.

 Chapter ten

 At the end of the corridor, Meryl was being escorted along by a man who
had his arm around her shoulders. The guy had his other hand jammed in the
girl's side.

 Pushing himself away from the wall, Elliot moved to follow. He held his
tongue, forcing himself not to shout out for fear of scaring the guy into
doing something stupid.

 He moved quicker, closing the distance between them. If he could just get
close enough to make a move, he could maybe wrestle Meryl to safety. A
door banged open and a group of students began to stream into the
corridor. Elliot cursed silently and picked up his pace. Ahead, the man
jumped with surprise and pulled Meryl closer, the rough movement making
her cry out.

 With the main corridor doors only yards away, Elliot could feel his
chances of controlling the scene slipping away. If there was a car ready
to go out there, if there was an accomplice, the next time he saw Meryl
would be in Warner's office.

 "Hey!" Elliot yelled, reaching automatically for a gun that wasn't there.
He cursed the lack of weapon. The man spun around, one hand moving to grip
Meryl around the neck. "Get away!" he screamed. 

 "Don't hurt her!" Elliot shouted back, holding his hand up.

 "Stay back!"

 Elliot slowed to a walk. "Be cool, man. I just wanna know what's up."

 "None of your business, man, walk away."

 Elliot shook his head. "Can't do that." He pointed. "Why don't you let
her go and we can talk."

 "Fuck you!" The man shook his hand and Meryl's head rocked back and
forth. Judging by the way her face had gone from waxy to puce, Elliot
could tell she was struggling to breathe. He held both hands out. 

 "Look, man. She's my responsibility - I can't let her leave."

 The perp glanced behind, gauging how much further he had to go until he
reached the main doors. "Fuck you. Ain't nothing to do with you. This is
family business, okay?"

 Elliot kept walking towards them. "I don't think so, do you? C'mon,
you're hurting her." He pointed. "Hey, she can't breathe, man. Let her
go." He took several long steps, closing the gap between them.

 "Back off!" The guy screamed and pulled his other hand out from when it
was hidden next to Meryl's side and Elliot felt his guts roll over. The
gun pointed straight at him. No vest, no gun and no back-up; he was
utterly screwed.

 "Just cool it, okay?" he said, licking his lips. "Don't let things get
crazy."

 "Get back!" The gun wavered up and down.

 "It doesn't have to be like this." Inside his mind, Elliot screamed for
the other undercover guys to show up.

 The man took several steps back, his gun still aimed dead on Elliot's
chest. "Stay there."

 Desperate not to let the distance between them increase, Elliot nodded
agreement, but stepped forward, anyway.

 And then everything seemed to happen at once. The bell rang out for the
end of class and the trickle of students became a flood, lines of girls
came from every direction, pouring into the corridor, between Elliot and
the perp, so he only just caught sight of the way Meryl had begun to
struggle, her elbow jamming into the man's side.

 For several long seconds, things were just fine, then someone noticed the
gun, screamed and all hell broke loose. Elliot began to run, pelting down
the corridor as the man's face changed from first anger, then pain and
confusion. Barrelling forward, he crashed through girl after girl,
throwing them aside trying to get to the man before he totally freaked and
began firing. Screams mingled with shouts of outrage and anger as girls
bounced off the walls, pushed aside by Elliot, and somewhere in the mess,
adult voices rang out, trying to bring calm to a situation that was about
two seconds away from being deadly instead of just disorderly.

 "NO!" Elliot screamed as the gun raised up levelled out. There were too
many bodies between him and the perp - he couldn't make it, he couldn't
stop it. "GET DOWN!" he yelled, not daring to spare a second to see if his
order was obeyed.

 The roar of the gun pierced his ears as the man fired, but the screams
that followed hurt more than any bullet. He had seen the muzzle-flash,
felt the air rip as the bullet tore past him but had no idea if any pupils
had been shot. Furious beyond reason, he launched himself into the air,
towards the struggling couple, arms outstretched, reaching for the gun.
Another flash, more screams and another moment anticipating sickening pain
that never came.

 Hands sliding over the hot barrel, Elliot felt his fingers tangle in the
trigger-guard, forcing him to push the gun towards the ceiling as momentum
carried the full force of his weight down on to the other man. Another
shot came close enough to score the skin on his temple, blazing a trail
across flesh, the sound so close to his ears it was more painful than the
burn itself.

 Elliot found himself struggling to disarm the man, screaming in what,
thanks to the ringing in his ears, was a silent, but throat-aching, yell.
He rolled over and over, arms and legs striking him from every angle, far
too many to be from just two people; Elliot realized that Meryl was still
tangled up with them. He couldn't spare a moment to check if she was had
been shot - it took all of his strength to keep the gun away from their
bodies. The thought of a bullet piercing her spurred his efforts.

 There was a loud crack as he took a nasty smack in the cheek, his head
snapping back as the shock sparked a burst of absolute rage. Elliot
replied with a short jab to the man's stomach, revelling in the deep crack
he felt against his fist. Spurred on, he hit the man hard twice more in
the same place, any ideas of fair play having been erased at his first
sight of the gun. A shower of spittle sprayed his face as the breath was
driven from the body underneath him. Elliot yanked the gun free and in a
fit of furious disgust, head-butted the perp with one vicious crack to his
forehead.

 All the fight and remaining breath went out of the man with a sigh.

 Elliot sagged in a sickening mixture of pain and relief, his breathing
measured in ragged, harsh gasps. His ears still ached, but gradually, he
found his hearing was trickling back. His head was flooded with crying,
screams, and the sound of air rushing into his lungs. He closed his eyes
for a second, getting himself together and assessing his personal damage.
Everything seemed to be where it was supposed to be, apart from some
bruises, a sore hand and an outrageous headache. He would look up and
check everyone else in just a moment.

 Something wriggled beneath him.

 "Aw, man..." A voice penetrated his headache as a hand shoved at his
chest. "You weigh a fuckin' ton, Mr. Thomas." 

 Elliot raised his head, and came up nose-to-nose with Meryl. She pulled a
face and planted her hand in the middle of his chest. "Too heavy..."

 Elliot finally got it, and nodded. "Oh, sorry." He pulled himself to his
knees, being careful not to lean on the gun or hurt her any more. He
slipped the safety on and looked down. "You okay?" 

 She looked up at him and shrugged. "I guess." Struggling to sit up, her
finger traced a scratch on her stomach. Eventually, she pulled her tee
shirt down from where it had ridden up.

 "You okay?" Elliot asked again, more softly this time. "Really okay, I
mean," he asked.

 She pursed her lips and glanced up at him. "I've had better mornings,"
she said with a little smile.

 "But you're not, you know?" he winced and looked her up and down, his
other hand reaching towards her. 

 "What?"

 He pulled his hand back, rethinking the urge to comfort her.

 She glanced down at her body. "Nah. I'm good."

 "He didn't-" He shrugged. "You know..."

 Eyes widening, Meryl grimaced. "No."

 Breathing out in relief, he nodded. "That's good. And you handled
yourself real well, there."

 "Yeah?"

 "Yeah, you did." He nodded. "And I'm sorry if I squashed you."

 Meryl grinned. "You bet your fat-ass you squashed me."

 "I'll cut back on the candy," he smiled.

 "Nah - you're in pretty good shape," she said, smiling back. "For an old
guy."

 Elliot grinned despite his pounding headache, pleased with the backhanded
compliment. 

 "Well, my old, fat ass and I, thank you, Maz."

 As if using her nick-name was some kind of signal, her lip wobbled, her
smile faded and her eyes filled with tears. 

 "Hey- it's okay. It's over." Elliot ignored his second thoughts and
reached out to touch her shoulder. With a little hiccough, all teenage
bravado crumpled, tears spilling from her eyes. Throwing the rule book
away, he gathered her in his arms and hugged her tight, leaning his back
against the wall. "It's okay, Sweetheart. Everything's gonna be fine," he
whispered, stroking her hair as gently as he would to any of his
daughters. 

 The babble of voices around him droned and rose, some hysterical, some
excited, but Elliot ignored them for a moment. The perp wasn't going
anywhere soon, and he was damned if he was going to play teacher a moment
more. Someone else could handle crowd control.

 Chapter eleven

 "OW! Shit!" Elliot flinched and pulled his head away. 

 "Oh, behave, you big baby."

 "It hurts!" he groused, pulling his head away again.

 The school nurse sighed. "For goodness sake. It's just a scratch."

 "Feels like a crater," he muttered, touching the scrape the bullet's path
had made.

 "Well, it's not. But if you want to go to the ER and get it checked out,
be my guest." She threw the cotton ball down and stalked off.

 "'Tis not as wide as a church door, nor deep as a well; but 'twill
suffice." 

 Elliot looked up at the familiar voice. Munch grinned down at him.

 "You took your time," he complained.

 "Busy booking the bad guy," he said, perching on the edge of the desk. 

 "And?" Elliot poked at his head, wincing.

 "Well, it seems our reckless gunman is a better cyber-perv than he is at
kidnapping and shooting straight."

 "Ugh, don't." Elliot could still hear those shots; he couldn't believe
no-one had actually been hurt.

 Munch chuckled. "Relax. He literally is the lone gunman. Almost broke
down in tears when he woke up and found Odafin leaning over him. Couldn't
wait to 'fess up."

 Elliot pulled a face. "I'll bet."

 The door opened and Olivia pushed her head around. "You decent, El?"

 "I have a head wound - how indecent d'you think that could be?"

 "Well, you never know," she grinned coming in the Lounge. "That nurse had
a real gleam in her eye when she came out."

 Munch laughed. "That was the urge to poke her patient in the eye."

 Olivia peered at Elliot's forehead. "Ouch. Is that as painful as it
looks?"

 Elliot nodded. "Yeah," he said, moving away before she took it into her
head to give it a test-poke. 

 "Poor baby." 

 He narrowed his eyes at her tone, but didn't rise to it.

 "I got a crowd of impatient teachers out there, wanting to come in and
get their stuff. You okay with that?"

 "Sure." He could empathise with them wanting to get out of the place as
quickly as possible. He'd had just about enough, too.

 She went back and spoke a few words, and then the room was full of
chattering staff, all grabbing bags, sorting out lockers and milling
around. 

 ***

 Toby stood in the corner of the toilet stall, his head pressed against
the partition, eyes closed tight. If he timed it just right, then all the
fuss would be over and he could get his stuff from the lounge without
having to catch sight of Elliot again. Long minutes went by with him
staring at the inside of his eyelids, counting heartbeats.

 Bad enough being brushed off, God knows he'd been *there* before, but add
that to the knowledge that Elliot had only cozied up to him because he was
on the lookout for a pervert, and that was the nail in his dignity's
coffin. He felt used, abused and thoroughly sick. 

 When the news had broken about what had happened and who Elliot really
was, he had been struck by a manic surge of hope; but that had quickly
given way to slow realisation, indignation and finally fury. There had
even been a fleeting moment when he'd felt ashamed, and that made him
angrier than all the other feelings rolled up together.

 Bastard. Not even Gen or his parents had succeeded in making him feel
that way about himself. He might not be the most 'out' man in the world,
but until today he had never felt dirty about being gay. Damn Elliot. Damn
him to hell for making him feel that way; damn him for making him feel
*anything*. 

 ***

 In the Lounge, Elliot fielded endless comments, mostly congratulations
and words of appreciation. One or two thought it hilarious that he was
really a cop, not a teacher.

 "You ever want to get a proper job, Elliot, just you take your teacher's
certificate and come back," Jones from Chemistry winked at him.

 "I'll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to self-destruct," Elliot
smiled.

 "Aw, c'mon," the assistant French tutor said. "Don't say you haven't
relished every second of the past two weeks."

 "Oh, yeah," Elliot nodded. "Loved it; really."

 The guy pointed his finger like a gun at Elliot and laughed.

 "I think you're very brave," a voice from behind him made Elliot turn.

 "Oh, hi, Selma," he said, resisting the urge to back away. "Um - thanks."

 She laid a wiry hand on his arm. "Very brave. I could see everything from
my office." Her eyes travelled up and down his body.

 Elliot wanted nothing more than to pull his arm away. "Oh, yeah? Well,
y'know, I'm just doing my job."

 Selma Fisher gave him a sharp-toothed smile before gliding away, leaving
him with the urge to take a shower.

 "See you've got a real fan, there," Munch whispered.

 Elliot shot him a look that dared him to say anything else.

 "I think it's sweet," Olivia said, leaning against the wall. 

 "You would."

 "No, she's right," Munch said, looking inside the coffee pot. "We don't
get to be the hero very often. You should make the most of if. Hey, does
anyone actually *drink* this stuff?" He pulled a face. "It smells worse
than ours."

 "It is." Elliot took the pot from him and replaced it. "Don't touch." The
pungent smell bought memories of the little coffee shop racing back, along
with a sharp pang of regret. Would Toby show up? Surely the other man
would have heard all about the excitement by now? He turned to stare
across the crowed room. Maybe he'd get the chance to have a word with him
before he had to get back to the station. To have a stab at putting things
right between them.

 He gazed around the room, every blond head making his stomach twist in
anticipation. At his side, someone spoke.

 "Uh-huh," he said with absent dismissal. He couldn't see Toby anywhere.
He always came to the Lounge to get his stuff at night.

 "You okay, El?"

 "Huh? What?"

 "I asked if you were okay?" Olivia stepped up and put a hand on his
forehead. "Maybe you should go to the ER, just in case."

 "Nah, I'm fine," he said. He glanced over her shoulder, straight into
Toby's blue eyes. Elliot's insides leaped into a bucket of ice. He pulled
his head away from Olivia's hand. "Don't."

 "You're my partner, I'm allowed to fuss over you." She leaned closer and
replaced her hand on his face. "You look ashen." He saw Toby's face harden
and then look away as she touched him.

 "I'm okay." Elliot stepped towards Toby, hoping for a word, a glance, but
the other man was moving away from him through the crowd, towards the
lockers.

 "I think you should-" Olivia's hand fell away as he started across the
room towards Toby. Elliot didn't bother turning to reply as she called his
name.

 His mouth set in a grim line, he pressed through the bodies in the
Lounge. He was going to speak to Toby, whether he wanted to or not. He
took a calming breath two steps away from his locker.

 "Hey." 

 Toby didn't turn. "Hey." There was a pause. "*Detective*."

 "It's still 'Elliot'."

 Toby was busy filling his backpack with books, didn't look up or bother
to answer. The locker was slammed and locked. Finally, he turned around.
The expression on his face made Elliot step back a pace.

 "Toby, I-" Elliot reached out. 

 Toby flinched and moved away. "Don't," he said. "Just don't." His
narrowed eyes flicked to the right and Elliot followed his gaze.

 "Hey." Olivia smiled from one to the other. 

 Toby nodded to her. "Detective," he said again, but with none of the
venom from before. "Please excuse me." He began to push past them.

 Elliot snagged his sleeve. With a look that could have blistered steel,
Toby stared at his arm, then up at Elliot. "Do you mind?" 

 Elliot's forehead wrinkled up in frustration. He winced at the pain the
bullet scorch-mark caused him. "Look, man I get that you're mad at me, but
I couldn't-"

 Toby held up a hand. "Save it. I know the drill. You don't need to
explain to me how police procedures go." 

 "Can we at least talk about it?" Elliot asked quietly - very aware that
Olivia was listening in.

 "I don't think I have anything I want to say to you, Detective Thomas."

 "It's 'Stabler', actually," Olivia added helpfully. "Thomas is his middle
name."

 Toby just raised his eyebrow. Elliot shot his partner a sharp look that
was totally wasted on her. He sighed. "Look; I know you're probably angry
I didn't..."

 Toby held up his hand and leaned in, lowering his voice. "You bet I'm
angry," he snapped. His eyes narrowed to icy slits. "Got a sex-crime?
Let's go check out the deviant, first."

 Elliot leaned back as if slapped. His mouth dropped open. "Jesus! How
could you think that?"

 "Yeah, whatever." 

 The dismissal in Toby's voice stung. He didn't try to stop Toby as he
turned and stepped into the crowd, moving across the room without a second
glance. The pain in his chest completely eclipsed the throb of his head
wound.

 "Who the hell was that?" Olivia asked. 

 Elliot worked his jaw, testing out several answers, but in the end,
decided against freaking her out. "Head of Psychology," he said with
clenched teeth.

 A voice behind them interrupted the movie in Elliot's head where he was
running after Toby.

 "Detective?" 

 He blinked and shook his head to clear away the picture. "Yeah?"

 "I just wanted to thank you." Principal Donnelly held out her hand. "You
did a magnificent job."

 Elliot took the offered hand and tried to dredge up a smile. "Thanks. I'm
just glad it all ended okay. How's Maz?"

 The principal frowned. "Who?"

 Elliot found the smile he was searching for. "Meryl Jacques. She likes to
be called Maz."

 "Oh, okay. Yes, she'd absolutely fine. A scratch and bruise or two, but
she's in fine form and loving every second of the attention, to be
honest."

 Elliot smiled wider. "I bet."

 The woman raised her eyebrows. "She can't say enough about you."

 Elliot's smile turned into a laugh. "I'm flattered." 

 "He's a regular hero," Olivia grinned and patted his arm. "We all aspire
to be like him."

 Elliot dug her in the ribs. 

 "Well, if you ever fancy a change of career, I'd be pleased to offer you
a position."

 Elliot laughed out loud. "You gotta be kidding!"

 The woman shook her head. "No. If you took a teaching credit, I'd love to
have you here. I think you've got a real knack with the kids."

 "Wonders will never cease," Munch said, handing Elliot his badge. "You
found your calling."

 "I think I'll stick to police work, thank you very much," he said,
slipping the badge back into his pocket. The weight was comforting. 

 "Oh, well." Mrs. Donnelly shook his hand again. "We'll miss you; and
thanks again."

 Elliot nodded. He watched her walk away and it hit him. He wasn't coming
back. He wasn't going to stand in the cafeteria queue next to Toby;
wouldn't bump into him in the Admin room, or get that funny thrill when he
caught a glimpse of blond hair across the yard. Shit. He was never going
to get to find out how Toby kissed. 

 The reality of his situation was as bitter as the Faculty coffee. He felt
as if a door had slammed so hard in his face it rocked him back on his
heels.

 "You ready?" Olivia placed her hand in the small of his back. 

 Elliot gave a brisk nod, not trusting himself to speak. He just picked up
his jacket and with one last look at Toby's locker, strode away, his guts
tied in a knot.

 Behind him, Munch and Olivia exchanged puzzled glances as he disappeared
down the corridor.

 Chapter twelve

 The following week dragged by as if on broken legs, a strung-out seven
days full of paperwork that provided no distraction for Elliot's
frustrated, angry thoughts. His sleep-pattern hadn't improved with the
passage of time, either much to his disgust. 

 Instead of abating, the feeling that he had let something monumental slip
away was making him more agitated with each restless night. And just to
add to the misery of tension and insomnia, he seemed to be one great big,
walking hard-on. Having been celibate since his divorce, and to be honest,
for quite a while before, his dick had woken up with a vengeance; every
passing thought seemed to turn him on. He hadn't jerked off so much since
he left his teens.

 Consequently he was slowly unravelling, physically and mentally, causing
Olivia to go into 'mothering' mode in a big way. He had appreciated her
fussing for the first three days, but it was now wearing thin.

 "You finished with that?" Olivia asked, holding her hand out. 

 "Yeah." He passed the metal rule over the desk, his other hand covering
his mouth to hide another huge yawn.

 "You might want to invest in some decent hot chocolate," she said.

 "Huh?"

 "You know, to help you sleep."

 "Oh." He pulled another file from the heap, barely listening. "Sure. I
guess."

 "You could try morphine."

 "Yeah, I'll pick some up on the way home." He jumped as an eraser landed
under his nose. "What?!"

 "You might at least pretend to be listening to me."

 "I was!"

 She gave him the look. 

 He sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry." He tossed the eraser back. "What d'you
say?"

 "Never mind."

 Rolling his eyes, Elliot shook his head. Women. He'd never get more than
a slippery grip on them- The thought blossomed into a stab of familiar
pain. Damn Toby to hell! He wouldn't get the hell out of his head. "Fuck,"
he said softly, rubbing his eyes.

 "What?"

 "Nothing." Pulling his mug of nearly cold coffee to him, he took a swig
to distract himself. 

 "That's disgusting."

 Wincing, Elliot nodded. "You got that right." He stood up. "I'll make
some more."

 Olivia grinned. "My hero."

 "You were just waiting for me to offer, weren't you?"

 She chuckled. "Maybe."

 He turned away and began to make a fresh pot. Simple tasks to occupy his
mind were what he needed. After work he'd maybe take the car to the wash,
if it wasn't too dark. Or go to the market and re-stock his cupboards; he
was getting low on food again. Hand covering his mouth again, he didn't
bother turning around when he heard Olivia speak.

 "Hello there; can I help you?"

 "I got a message that I had forgotten to sign my statement," a voice
said, and Elliot's stomach lurched. He put the coffee pot on the heater
and slowly turned around.

 Toby was standing by his desk, facing away, whether he was being ignored
on purpose, he couldn't tell. Olivia was busy fishing through the pile of
statements.

 Elliot walked up to his desk, holding his breath, studying the back of
Toby's neck, wanting nothing more than to run his fingers through the
freshly shaven hair. The other man had gotten a pretty severe haircut; he
wasn't sure how he felt about that - he'd gotten sort of fond of the long
look.

 "Oh, yeah; that's right." Olivia pulled a file out. "Here we go."

 Staring at the back of the head, Elliot gave his lips a quick lick and
spoke. "Hello, Mr. Beecher," he said as neutrally as he could with the
beginnings of an erection stirring in his pants. 

 Toby jumped slightly. "Oh," he said, turning. "I didn't see you." His
insides rolled, one somersault away from spraying out across the squad
room. He swallowed hard.

 Elliot tilted his head to one side, a shy smile tugging his lips.
"Uh-huh. Does that make a difference?"

 Toby's mouth tightened. He shook his head sharply so he wouldn't have to
focus on that sad smile. "No, I don't think so." He turned back to Olivia,
effectively dismissing the other man. "Is that it?" He held his hand out
to her - he needed to get out of here. "Where do I need to sign?" 

 Elliot glanced over the rigid shoulder to Olivia, who was looking from
one man to the other. He clenched his teeth, un-balled his fists and made
a decision not to allow Toby to dictate the moment. He would make the
other man talk if it killed both of them. "Mind if I take over here, Liv?"

 Her eyebrows shot up, but to her credit, she said nothing, just handed
him the file. Taking it, Elliot waved to the spare chair next to his desk.
"Seat?"

 Toby looked as if he was going to explode. His jaw bounced, his eyes
narrowed. If Elliot didn't know better, he imagined he was about to get a
fist in the face. He almost welcomed the thought - it would be
communication of a sorts.

 Eventually, Toby grabbed the back of the chair and pulled it out. He sat
down with very bad grace. "I have to get back to work," he snapped. "Can
we hurry this up?" He felt like his control had just grabbed his dignity
and run screaming from the room.

 "Sure." Elliot made a production of opening the file and reading through
it. He was conscious of Olivia busy doing nothing on the opposite desk,
the rhythmic ticking of the clock, and Toby getting more and more
agitated. He smothered a grin and slowly turned the page. He pretended to
read through two more; nodding, then turned the pages over and glanced
over them again.

 "Oh, for goodness sake!" Toby banged his knuckles on the desk. "Is this
some childish game you're playing to punish me?"

 Elliot looked up, wide-eyed. "Game, Mr. Beecher?"

 "You know what I mean."

 "I'm sure I don't." Elliot folded his hands on the file. "Maybe you could
explain it to me. It's such a shame when there's a break down in
communication between people."

 Toby glared at him, his mouth a tight, white line, refusing to react to
the words. "Where do I sign?"

 Elliot looked casually at the pages. "Oh, I'm not sure. Let me see." He
went back to slowly turning the pages, first one side, then the other. He
could sense Toby winding himself up like a spring. A couple more turns and
he'd be ready to fall apart. Maybe once the facade had broken, they could
talk. "Ah - here it is." He picked up a page and made as if to hand it
over, then snatched it back before Toby could take it. "Oh, nope. That's
not the one."

 "Will you just..."

 "Please, Mr. Beecher- I'd hate for us not to be on the same page about
this." He leaned forward and looked straight into Toby's furious eyes. 

 "Is that so?"

 "Yes. I don't want there to be any misunderstanding about anything." He
gave a tiny smile.

 "Much as I appreciate that, *Detective*, I don't think I'm interested in
the details." Toby gave a sharp shake of his head. "Not any longer."

 He was not going to allow this man the opportunity to hurt him again,
however much his libido argued its case. He held out his hand. "If you'll
give me the correct form, I'd like to get out of here."

 Elliot sat back in his chair, the sharp words hurting more than he ever
imagined. He stared at the other man, hoping to change his mind through
sheer force of will. The two of them sat motionless, angry expressions
locked together. The squad room clock crunched out the seconds. The coffee
pot dripped and burbled; still Toby and Elliot stared at one another in
silence. Toby folded his arms and leaned back in his chair - Elliot
followed suit. The quiet stretched out between them like razor wire.

 "Oh, for goodness sake!" Olivia reached over and snagged up the last page
in the file. "Here." She slammed a biro down. "Just there, on the dotted,
Mr. Beecher."

 Toby took the pen with a smug smile. Elliot gave his partner a vicious
look.

 "Thank you." With a flourish, Toby signed the page and handed it back. He
looked at Olivia, ignoring Elliot completely. "I appreciate that."
Standing, he nodded at her. "Goodbye."

 Olivia nodded back as he strode across the room and pushed his way out,
his head held high despite the pyrrhic victory. He would not show his
weakness here. He would find some anonymous bar and try to avoid getting
shit-faced drunk.

 The door was still gently swinging on its hinges when Elliot exploded.
"What the HELL was all that about!?" 

 "I might ask you the same question!" Olivia matched his furious stance
across the table. "Since when do we antagonize members of the public!?"

 "I was not!" 

 "Like hell. Either than or some freaky display of macho one-upmanship."

 "I was just-"

 "You were just being a complete asshole!" Olivia shouted. She pointed to
the door. "That man is well within his rights to make an official
complaint about the way you treated him."

 "He won't."

 "Elliot! You're missing the point!" She threw her hands up. "Not that I
can even *see* a goddamned point to that little display."

 "The POINT is - it's none of your business!"

 She picked up the pen and threw it at him. "You're my partner! Watching
you make an asshole of yourself *IS* my business!"

 "Oh, fuck you." 

 The words were out of Elliot's mouth before he could think better of it,
and the moment they spilled across the desk, he looked at Olivia's face,
mortified. She was staring at him, her mouth open. 

 "Oh, God, Liv-" He held a hand out. Olivia just stared at him in silence,
which was somehow worse than having her bawl him out.

 "Stabler. My office. *Now*."

 Elliot turned. Cragen stood in the doorway looking like he wanted to rip
out someone's throat. Sparing one last glance at his partner, Elliot
turned and walked towards his boss, wondering if he was going to have
either a job or a partner much longer.

 ***

 "I'll apologize immediately," Elliot began, standing stiffly at
parade-ground attention. "That was unforgivable."

 "Yes, it was." Cragen moved to stand in front of him. "I don't know what
prompted that little display of temper, nor do I *want* to know."

 Elliot said nothing, just stood rigid.

 "All I need to know, is that you're doing your job, and from what I can
see, you're doing anything *but*." Elliot began to speak, but Cragen held
up a hand. "No, save it, Detective. I don't want to hear any self-centered
excuses; I've used them all myself and don't think I can stomach hearing
them from you."

 Elliot swallowed and straightened his shoulders, preparing for the rest
of the wrath.

 "So; it's time to get your thumb out from up your ass, Elliot. Shave
properly, actually *use* that iron I know you have, and for God's sake,
get some rest."

 Elliot glanced down at himself.

 "Yes, Elliot, you *do* look that bad." Stepping back a little, Cragen
softened his tone. "What's going on with you, son - some kind of delayed
reaction to the divorce?"

 Elliot barked a sharp laugh. "Yeah, right."

 "Then what?"

 Elliot's jaw worked back and forth. "I'm just dealing with something,
right now."

 "No, you're *not* dealing with it. That's why we're having this chat."
Cragen folded his arms. "What's eating you? Talk to me."

 Pulling a face, Elliot fidgeted, shuffled his feet and dug around for the
right words. "I kinda met someone," he said at last. He chewed his lip,
choosing his words carefully. "And I don't think they're interested - I
mean, they *were*, but I sorta, well, fucked things up." He glanced up.

 "You're complaining you got lucky?" Cragen asked, amazed.

 A smile flitted across Elliot's face. "No - I mean, I haven't; yet." He
willed a blush away.

 "So? What are you waiting for? You're a free man, in case you hadn't
noticed."

 Elliot winced. 

 "That was uncalled for - I'm sorry. But you know what I mean." Unfolding
his arms, Cragen perched his butt on the edge of the desk. "Go see them.
Say how you feel. It's not rocket science."

 "I- I, well..." Elliot swallowed. "It's- well, complicated." He winced
again, hearing Toby's voice saying that word.

 Cragen rolled his eyes. "Come on, son. You're old and ugly enough to know
what you want and how to go about getting it. Go see them; just tell 'em
how you feel." Reaching over to slap Elliot on the arm, Cragen laughed.
"God! I never thought I'd be acting as an agony uncle to you."

 Elliot smiled. He relaxed, the tension unravelling slightly. "Yeah; me
neither."

 "Okay. So we can look forward to seeing a well-rested, neatly-presented
police officer, in future, then, yes?"

 Glancing down at his rumpled shirt, Elliot gave his boss a wry look. "I
didn't think anyone had noticed. Sorry; I have a spare in my locker. I'll
go put it on." 

 Cragen gave him a sad smile. "We're all your friends, Elliot, and friends
notice their friends falling apart, you know?"

 "Yeah. Thanks." He nodded, embarrassed.

 "Oh, before I forget-" Cragen reached behind to his desk and handed over
a slip of paper. "Had a message from Principal Donnelly. Seems the school
want you to pop in; said you left something behind."

 Elliot frowned. "What?"

 "Didn't say."

 "Oh." It was on the tip of his tongue to say they could post whatever it
was, when Cragen spoke again.

 "Take Olivia and drop by this afternoon; it won't take long; you two
could do with the time to sort yourselves out." He held up a finger. "And
with regard to your 'maybe-kinda' love interest? Sort it out, Elliot. I
want my best detective back."

 Smiling openly, Elliot turned and opened the door. "I bet you say that to
all the guys."

 Cragen laughed. 

 ***

 He and Olivia were almost half way to the school before it dawned on him
that Cragen hadn't used a single gender-specific pronoun in his pep-talk.
He frowned at himself in the rear-view mirror, not sure what to make of
that.

 Chapter thirteen

 Elliot held the heavy school doors open, thanking the God of
Sexually-Frustrated Police Officers that Olivia wasn't the type to hold a
grudge. She had called him a few choice names, accepted his apology, and
with a swift hug, she told him if he ever said that to her again, she'd
kick his balls into orbit. He solemnly promised he wouldn't, quite sure
that if he did, she'd give it her best try.

 "After you," he said, ushering her inside the school.

 "Nice," she said, looking around at the spacious halls.

 "Expensive education," he whispered. "Don't mean the kids are any better
behaved, just gets you a more attractive cage to put them in."

 Olivia laughed, nudging him in the ribs. "Don't tell me you wouldn't send
your kids here, if you could afford it."

 "Maybe." He grinned. "I think Dickie'd love attending an all-girls'
school."

 Olivia laughed and shook her head. They reached the Admin area and Elliot
found himself hesitating. He glanced through the glass doors, watching
Selma Fisher stapling some forms with grim determination.

 Olivia looked at him. "What?"

 Leaning towards her, Elliot whispered in her ear. "She scares the crap
outta me."

 Laughing out loud, Olivia pushed the door open. "You big baby," she
muttered, smiling as she walked towards Mrs. Fisher. "Hi there -
Detectives Benson and Stabler. Our Captain said he got a message from
Principal Donnelly?" 

 Selma Fisher didn't spare Olivia a glance. She flung the stapler to the
work surface and hurried around the desk so quickly it made Elliot step
back. "Oh, Elliot!" she gushed. "How wonderful to see you again! Your
spectacular save has been the talk of the school!" She grabbed Elliot's
hand and squeezed. 

 He winced and tried to smile. "Um, yeah. Hi there, Selma. Thanks." He
stood patiently while the woman pumped his arm up and down in her claw. A
sly glance at Olivia standing with a smirk on her face was enough for him.

 "Well, that's great. Um, you think you could let Principal Donnelly know
we're here?" He pulled his hand away with as much grace as he could muster
and shoved it in his jacket pocket out of harm's way.

 "Of course!" Selma patted his arm. "Right away." 

 Elliot bit back a comment as she squeezed his bicep a shade harder than
was comfortable. "Thanks," he said, stepping back.

 Still displaying enough teeth to scare a shark, Selma scuttled to the
phone. With a low mutter, she appeared to be passing on the message.
Elliot looked at Olivia and scowled. "Don't," he said very quietly.

 She gave him a 'what, me?' look and turned away, smiling. 

 The two detectives stood waiting, gazing around the room; Elliot glanced
over to what he knew was Toby's filing cabinet. He smiled sadly, having
heard all sorts of stories about the metal snap-dragon's habit of skinning
knuckles. He'd briefly held one scratched hand in the Lounge one morning,
laughing at the sulky expression on the other man's face. Given the chance
over again, he'd lift that hand to his lips and kiss the scratch better,
just to see the reaction.

 "Someone will be along in just a moment," Selma told them, pulling his
attention away from thoughts of Toby's hands. 

 She grinned. "I think one or two people want to have a quick word with
you."

 Elliot shook his head. "Actually, we're on a bit of a tight schedule," he
said, desperately trying to think of an excuse to get out of there in case
he saw Toby. After this morning's debacle, he couldn't face seeing the
other man again, regardless of how his dick felt about the matter.

 "Oh, no!" Selma looked devastated. 

 "I'm sorry-" Elliot began.

 "Nonsense," Olivia interrupted him. "I think we can spare a few minutes
of our time." She grinned at Elliot and winked. 

 Seething, he tried to convey that this was not a great idea, but she just
tilted her head to one side in her annoying quasi-innocent way. "That'd be
okay, wouldn't it, El?" she said, batting her big, brown eyes at him.

 "I really don't-"

 "Oh, of course we have a few minutes, don't you think?"

 Elliot glared, and Olivia glared right back. Unfortunately for him,
having already established he was firmly in the dog-house, he backed down
with a twitch of his tightly clenched jaw. 

 Nodding, Olivia acknowledged his surrender. "Well, that's settled - we
can hang around for a while."

 "Oh, wonderful!" Selma clapped her hands together. "How marvellous!"

 Elliot fought the urge to roll his eyes. God, could this get any worse?

 "Well, hello, again, handsome."

 This time Elliot did roll his eyes as he turned around with a feeling of
impending doom. "Hello, Sherrie," he sighed.

 *** 

 Actually, it had been quietly amusing, watching Olivia bristle at
Sherrie. It had only taken about three sentences for Sherrie to totally
piss his partner off. Knowing Olivia the way he did, he didn't mistake her
reaction for sexual jealousy, but for the territoriality it was. She'd be
damned if some Barbie-doll was going to stake such a blatant, and
unwarranted claim on her partner in front of her. He grinned across as
Sherrie led them down the corridor, Olivia's face growing redder as the
blonde teacher's double-meanings became less and less subtle. 

 Olivia fumed, the poisonous expression bouncing between Elliot and
Sherrie, as if unsure at whom she was more pissed. 'Who's she?' she
mouthed as Elliot caught her eye. He just grinned wider and shrugged as if
there was nothing wrong. He almost laughed out loud when he read the word
'bitch' on Olivia's lips.

 "...And it would be just wonderful if you could do some personal training
sessions, you know, for those of us who appreciate a good, hard work-out."
Sherrie's hand wandered down the small of his back, resting on the tail of
his jacket. "You know, on a one-to-one basis."

 Elliot blinked. "Um, I'm not sure the Department would allow me engage in
private employment," he stuttered, suddenly very uncomfortable.

 "Oh, well, maybe we could arrange some sort of indirect payment," she
breathed, her body pressing closer and her hand sliding down to cup his
ass. Her hand tightened, and Elliot jumped.

 Olivia leaned between them, breaking the moment. "Is this it?" she said,
reaching over to point at the sign that read 'Faculty Lounge'.

 Sherrie gave her a nasty look. Olivia just smiled sweetly at her. "Hey,
you know, I think Elliot's boyfriend would be really interested in that
kind of thing."

 Elliot's eyes bugged out. He turned to stare at Olivia like she'd lost
her mind. 'What-the-fuck?' he mouthed at her. Olivia just blinked
innocently at him.

 Sherrie looked like she'd bitten into a lemon. "Oh," she said, releasing
the grip she had on Elliot's ass. She looked him up and down. "I see."

 Olivia leaned over and rapped smartly on the door. "How is Fin, these
days, El?" she grinned.

 "I am gonna *kill* you," he hissed, as Sherrie stepped away from him into
the Lounge. 

 The applause started before they got inside the room. Elliot stared, a
blush spreading as he realized he was the cause. He tried to take a step
back, but a shove between his shoulder blades propelled him inside.

 "Elliot!" Principal Donnelly walked up, clapping enthusiastically. "Thank
you for popping by. We're so glad to see you again."

 "Um..." Elliot fumbled for something to say. He looked about the room -
there were a dozen members of staff, a few pupils and admin people, but no
Toby. He didn't know whether he was relieved or not. "I don't know what to
say," he admitted.

 She chuckled. "No speech necessary," Ms. Donnelly said, taking his hand.
"We just wanted to take the opportunity to thank you again and make a
small presentation; something to remember us by." She laughed again. "That
is, unless you're planning on coming back to teach!"

 Elliot smiled. "I don't think so, thanks." 

 "Shame," she said. "We could do with someone like you shaking things up."

 She indicated with her hand. "Meryl - if you please."

 Stepping forward with a brightly coloured parcel in her hands, Meryl
grinned at him. "Hey, there, sir," she said.

 Elliot winked at her. "Hey, Maz. How's it goin'?"

 "Cool." She looked down at her hands and up again. "This is just
something we wanted you to have." She thrust it at him.

 Embarrassed, Elliot took the gift. "I can't-" he began.

 "It's not much."

 "No, I mean, I *can't*." He looked at Liv for help, but she just
shrugged. His face twisted in embarrassment. "What I mean is, as a police
officer, I'm not allowed to accept gifts," he finished lamely, still
holding the parcel as the room fell quiet.

 "Oh." Meryl frowned and chewed her lip. 

 Elliot stood there with the parcel hanging limply from his hands, feeling
like an utter bastard. "Um, I don't know what-" he began.

 "Oh, hell. Let's say it's not a gift." Maz stepped forward and took it
from him. She pulled at the paper, ripping it off and dropping it to the
floor. "See? If it's not in crappy gift paper, it's not a gift." She
thrust the denuded parcel at him. "Now you can accept it, yeah?"

 "I don't think that-"

 "Actually, we're just returning it - not giving you anything new."

 Elliot stared blankly at her. She pointed to his hands and he looked
down. He was holding a school Phys Ed shirt. With a snort of laughter, he
let it unfold in his hands. He checked the label and shook his head. "This
isn't mine."

 "No, it's a replacement for the one you had before." Maz smirked. "One
that should fit you properly."

 Elliot raised an eyebrow at her. "You noticed that, huh?" 

 "Couldn't help but notice," she laughed. "But it helped pass the time in
gym class."

 He gave her a mock stern glare, but couldn't maintain it. He laughed.
"Okay. I give in. It's great, thank you. I shall think of you all when I
wear it."

 "So you're gonna keep it?"

 He nodded. "I think I can do that." He glanced at Olivia. "What d'you
think, partner?"

 She smiled. "I think you could squeak by the regs with that." 

 "You're a cop, too?" Meryl's eyes were wide.

 "I am," Olivia nodded. 

 "Does she do what you do?" she asked, staring at Olivia.

 "Yeah" Elliot nodded. "Only better."

 "Oh, wow, that's so cool. You know, I'm gonna apply as soon as I can,"
she said with a grin and a blush.

 "That so?" 

 "Yeah. Can I, like, talk to you about it?"

 Olivia smiled hugely. "You sure can." Elliot watched the two walk away,
Maz chattering animatedly.

 Someone spoke at his side. "I think you might have inspired several more
potential recruits, Detective." He glanced around then down, when he
realized who was speaking. 

 "Hey, Flo." He grinned down at the black woman. "Didn't see you there."

 "Funny man, she said with a sideways look.

 "So you think the ranks of the NYPD will be bulging with lady officers
one day?"

 "Maybe." She pursed her lips. "Have to say, you made some fans in this
dry old place."

 Elliot laughed. "Gimme a break."

 "Oh, we have a few male teachers." She tilted her head. "But maybe not so
many like you, Detective."

 He looked at her, unsure what she was inferring. 

 "I'm nothing special," he muttered.

 "Oh, I don't know about that. You're a hit with some people."

 Elliot shrugged off her comments and concentrated on folding his shirt
up. "I don't know - I seem to have a talent for pissing people off," he
admitted. He stopped and looked around to check for young ears.

 "Don't we all?" Flo replied. "But then, that's what makes life such a
challenge, don't you think?"

 He chuckled. "You have a strange way of looking at the world."

 "That's why I work in the Psych Department."

 Elliot looked at her, wondering if there was something deeper to her
words, but decided he hadn't got the energy to puzzle it out. "Yeah," he
said, "Rather you than me."

 "Oh, I don't know. I would've thought that as a policeman, you got to
understand a fair bit about how people's minds worked."

 He laughed. "Yeah? Well, you're wrong about that. I'm pretty hopeless
when it comes to relationships." He bit his lip. He hadn't meant to say
that. "I mean, I'm better just sticking to chasing people."

 "Do you catch them?" Flo smiled. He smiled back. "Sometimes." "Even when
they don't want to be caught?" "*Especially* when they don't wanna be
caught." He grinned. "Glad to hear it," she said and turned away. Puzzled
at her abrupt departure, Elliot looked the way she'd gone - straight into
a pair of brilliant blue eyes. He swallowed compulsively, staring. "Hey,
Toby," he said.

 Chapter fourteen

 Toby nodded, but didn't say anything more. This wasn't the time or the
place to start another fight. Or even continue the one they were already
in the middle of.

 "I, er-" Elliot squeezed the shirt in his hands. "I want to apologize for
this morning." He strangled the material in his fists. "I behaved badly."

 Toby stared at him. He shrugged. "No matter," he said, keeping a very
tight hold on the urge to step closer and invade Elliot's space.

 Elliot took a deep breath. "It was very impolite of me. To say nothing of
childish."

 Toby nodded. "Yeah. It was."

 "You're not making this very easy."

 "Should I?"

 Elliot tried not to bristle. "I don't know. Maybe you could gimme a
break."

 "Granted; apology accepted." Toby began to walk away before he lost the
power to maintain his anger in the face of that whipped-puppy expression.
He had to ball his fist up to keep from cupping the other man's face.

 "Toby-" Elliot both loved and hated the way the name sounded in his
mouth. "Wait, please."

 Pausing, Toby took a moment to gather his resolve before turning around.
"I don't think you and I have anything more to say to one another,
Detective," he said with quiet dignity.

 "But if you'd just let me-"

 "No. I don't think so."

 "Let me buy you another coffee?" Elliot asked, knowing his expression and
tone both bordered on pathetic.

 Toby shook his head and looked at his shoes, pulling a face at the sudden
stab of pain in the middle of his chest. "No," he snapped He turned and
walked quickly away.

 Elliot watched him move across the room, to be swallowed up in the small
crowd. His hands clenched into fists around the shirt he held -
frustrated, angry, but more than anything, hurt. Being turned down was one
thing, repeatedly allowing himself to be verbally kicked in the balls was
another. Enough was enough. He turned away and walked back across the
room. "Hey," he said, reaching Olivia. "You about ready?"

 "Sure." She smiled at him. "I think we're going to be seeing a lot of Maz
in the future."

 "That so?" Elliot forced himself to smile.

 "You bet!" Maz rubbed her hands together. Soon as I graduate, I'm gonna
look you up and join your squad."

 Elliot laughed. "Oh, man. I think I'll be long retired by then. God, I
hope so."

 "Oh, bummer." Maz looked crestfallen. "So you won't end up my boss,
then?"

 "Uh-uh. I very much doubt that." Elliot held his hand out. "But bless you
for thinking I'm young enough."

 Maz grinned and took his hand. "Told you - you're not bad. For an old
guy, that is." 

 "Wow, thanks."

 She blushed, and pulling him forward by the hand, she slipped her other
arm around his neck and gave him a hug. "Thanks for the save, fat ass,"
she whispered.

 "My pleasure," he replied, hugging her back. "Now just make sure you get
good enough grades to join up."

 "I will." 

 They broke apart and Elliot winked. "And quit callin' me fat ass, huh?"

 Maz smiled and shrugged. "Why should I? You ain't my boss, or my
teacher."

 He pointed a finger at her and narrowed his eyes. "Just as well; I'd make
you-"

 "You really gonna wear this sometime?" she interrupted, tugging at the
shirt in his hands.

 Elliot rolled his eyes and nodded. "I promise."

 Maz grinned and looked at Olivia. "Blue suits him," she said. "And it
fits real nice, if you know what I mean."

 Olivia laughed. "Maybe I can get him to model it in the squad room."

 "Send me pictures?"

 "I'll see what I can do," Olivia joked.

 Elliot shook his head. He walked away to the sound of their laughter.

 Shaking hands with just about everyone in the room, Elliot slowly made
his way out with Olivia following moments later.

 As they left, Elliot allowed his eyes to wander over to the opposite
corner of the room, in a fit of crazy masochism.

 Toby was standing with his back to the door, casually getting himself a
drink, their leaving not even registering on his radar. Goodbye Toby,
Elliot said silently, hating himself for being weak enough to look at the
other man. He gripped the shirt in his fist and turned towards the door
feeling like he was leaving a bloody trail of his insides behind him as he
walked away. Damn Tobias Beecher for making him feel like that. Damn him
for making him feel *anything*.

 ***

 Toby took a long drink from the water fountain and closed his eyes.
Seeing Elliot again was torture. It had taken all his strength to walk
away when all he wanted to do was grab the other man and kiss that mouth
as hard as he could. Damn him. Why did he feel like his guts had been
ripped out? Maybe as soon as this was all over, he'd go out and get laid
by some stranger to get over the hurt, the betrayal and the ridiculous
surges of lust and hope.

 "Can I ask you something, Toby?"

 He turned, glancing down. "Sure, Flo." He pulled out a smile.

 "Are you entirely out of your mind?"

 Toby frowned. "What?"

 "I said-"

 "I heard you - what do you mean?"

 Flo rolled her eyes. "What I *mean* is - are you totally fucking insane?"

 Toby goggled at her. "Flo! Shhh!" he whispered. "Are you nuts?"

 "No, but I think you are, Tobias." She sighed. "Why would you turn that
man down?"

 "What? You were *listening*?" 

 "Not listening; merely observing."

 "There's a difference?" he asked, incredulous.

 "There is. And there's also a difference between playing hard to get and
being a total fucking idiot."

 "Flo!" Toby glanced around to see if anyone heard. "Jesus!"

 "I think Jesus has done his part by sending you a man who's interested in
you; and one who's sex on legs, to boot."

 Toby stared, his mouth hanging open, his mind busy revving away in
neutral. 

 "And here you are, doing everything in your power to chase him away." She
reached out and punched his arm. "Wake up, Beecher!"

 "OW!" He rubbed his bicep. "Damnit, Flo. That hurt."

 "Good. Proves you're still alive. I had my doubts."

 Toby screwed up his face and struggled to think of something to that
wasn't either incriminating or humiliating. Or both. "I'm not... I don't-"

 "Yes, you are, and if you *don't* it's probably because you're the most
contrary man I ever met."

 "I-" Words failed him. He stood looking at her, eyes wide, still rubbing
his arm.

 "Tobias Beecher; listen to me. He likes you. You like him." She held up
her hand and Toby flinched. "Don't bother to lie to me. I may be three
hundred years old, but I'm neither blind nor stupid."

 "I didn't think-"

 Flo laughed. "Yeah. Right. News Flash, girlfriend. Your closet door's
swinging wide open."

 Toby's jaw dropped, unhinged. He swallowed a couple of times, then shook
his head. "Even if you were right-" He held up a hand, blushing. "And I'm
not saying you are, he's not - well, he's not, you know..."

 "Yes, he is."

 "No," Toby blushed and squirmed. "Flo, he's not. I sort of made - well, I
kinda made a kind of pass at him."

 Flo grinned. "Ooh! Who'd have thought? And?"

 Toby scowled at her. Her incredulity burned almost as much as Elliot's
rejection. "He turned me down flat, if you must know." 

 "I don't believe it!"

 "He said it was 'complicated'." Toby's tone expressed his utter disgust
with that word.

 "Complicated?"

 "Yeah."

 "Because he was on a case?"

 Toby hesitated, a tiny seed of doubt falling out of his Hope Drawer and
rolling across his mind. He shook his head. "No. Complicated because
he's-" He glanced around. "Y'know - not gay," he whispered.

 "He actually *said* that?" Flo leaned back to peer up at him.

 Toby wriggled, that little seed slipping between the cracks in his mind.
"Sorta," he lied.

 "Yeah? Bullshit."

 "Flo - for the love of God, will you stop that? Swearing doesn't suit
you."

 She snorted. "Yeah? Well, martyrdom doesn't suit you, either, Tobias."
She held out her hands and made fists. "Take a chance, man! Reach out and
grab it!" She winked. "Hell, grab *him*! He's got a very grab-able..."

 Toby wrestled a blush down. "Flo, I told you, he's not like *that*."

 "And I'm telling you, you're wrong." She made the grabby hands again.
"Toby - go after him!"

 Rubbing his hand across his eyes, Toby sighed. "You're not listening to
me. I'm not about to make a fool of myself again." He stomped down on that
mental seed, crushing it. 

 "He wants you."

 "He just feels sorry he made me feel bad." 

 Flo groaned and held her fist up. She shook it. "Toby! I could just slap
you silly! You are so wrong about him!" 

 Sherrie pushed between them to take a water cup. "Wrong about who?"

 "No-one," Toby said, hating that he was unable to stop himself from
folding his arms across in a classically defensive pose.

 Flo snorted. "I'm trying to get through to Toby that he's being a total
fuck-wad."

 "Flo! Jesus, woman!" 

 Sherrie flicked the dispenser lever. "Oh, yeah?" 

 Toby scowled at the way Sherrie didn't argue the point as she got her
water.

 "Yeah." Flo rolled her eyes. "He's trying to tell me our delicious
detective's not gay." 

 Toby cringed. "Damnit, Flo! Do you have to?"

 "I'm just saying."

 "Oh; hell, yeah." Sherrie took a sip of her water. "He's as gay as a
rainbow fart."

 Toby and Flo both turned to look at her. She swallowed her water and
stared back at them, one at a time. "What?"

 "How'd you know that?" Toby demanded, his mind racing to throw Flo's
bullshit on that battered seed.

 Sherrie pulled face. "That lady cop let it slip." She regarded her nails.
"I knew, of course."

 Toby and Flo exchanged looks. Very slowly, a grin spread across Toby's
face. In his mind, the seed blossomed into a riot of sunflowers.

 Chapter fifteen

 Lost in his world of self-imposed misery, Elliot made poor company for
the rest of the day. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that Olivia all
but gave up trying to include him in conversation. She just set about
finishing up the reams of paperwork required to put a perp away.

 "How long d'you think he'll get?" she said, hitting 'print' on her pc.
She glanced up at the silence. "Elliot?"

 He looked at her. "Huh?"

 "How long?"

 He looked blank. "How long, what?"

 Biting back a sigh, she slipped a pen in her desk tidy. "The school
janitor, El. The man whose nose you broke, the one arrested for peddling
porn and attempted kidnap? How long d'you think he's going to get?"

 "Oh." He shrugged. "I dunno. Life, I'd hope."

 She snorted. "Yeah. Right." Leaning her chin on her hands, she stared
across the desk. Long moments went by. "Are you okay?" she said at last.

 He gave a weak smile. "Sure."

 "Funny, you don't look it."

 "You gonna tell me I look like shit again?"

 She smiled. "Would it help?"

 "No."

 "Then, no, I won't." She pushed a square of chocolate across the desk.
"You know if you need to talk, I'm here for you."

 He leaned over and briefly covered her hand with his. "I know. Thanks."
He took the candy and slipped it in his mouth. 

 "But you won't," she said with a lop-sided grin.

 "Probably not," he admitted, pushing the chocolate around his mouth.
"Hey, this is good."

 "Of course. No point in buying cheap candy." She popped the last bit in
her own mouth and went back to sorting paper.

 Elliot watched her work as he sucked the last of the sweet stickiness off
his teeth. He knew it was killing her not knowing what was bothering him,
but he was incredibly grateful he didn't have to explain. He wasn't sure
he could explain it to himself right now.

 The door to the squad banged open and Fin marched in with Munch in tow.
They were bickering as usual. Elliot smiled. Some things didn't change.

 "All I'm saying is that you didn't need to scare the man quite *that*
much."

 "Got a confession, didn't it?" Fin poured coffee. 

 "It got a wet interview room seat, that's what it got." Munch held his
hand out for a mug.

 Fin gave his a narrow-eyed look but handed the full mug over without
complaint. "Look, that cheesy skell ain't gonna chase old ladies no more.
Job done."

 Munch sighed and took a sip of coffee, wincing. "I don't know which
causes me more pain, this coffee or my partner's technique."

 Fin leered. "Ain't never had no complaints about *that*, baby."

 Munch pulled a face. "Oh, please." He walked over to their desk. "Spare
me the visuals *and* your appalling grammar."

 "Whatcha got?" Fin leaned over and snagged up the shirt that lay on the
back of Elliot's chair.

 "A souvenir from the school," Elliot said, turning. "My uniform; they
said I could keep it."

 "Neat." Fin held it up. "How come I never get stuff given to me?" he
asked.

 "Your last victim gave you the contents of his bladder; what more do you
want?" Munch said, peering over his glasses.

 "Chocolates would be nice," Olivia said. "Or flowers."

 "I wouldn't say no to a Mustang convertible." Fin grinned, throwing the
shirt back at Elliot.

 "Isn't that called bribery?" Elliot asked, folding the shirt neatly. "Or
something along those lines."

 "Oh, yeah. I forgot."

 Turning to tuck the shirt in his drawer, Elliot caught sight of someone
approaching his desk. He looked up. "Can I help-" He trailed off. Toby
stood in front of him, a shy smile on his face. Elliot stared, half
freaked by the smile, half in shock at his very presence. Inside his
pants, his dick let him know at least one part of him was pleased to see
the other man.

 "Hey," Toby said, jerking his chin sideways. "The lady on the desk
downstairs said it'd be okay to come up."

 "Oh?" One syllable was all Elliot could come up with.

 "Yeah." Toby glanced at the other three cops, clearly uncomfortable. "I,
um- wondered if we could talk."

 "I thought you'd said all you wanted to say to me." Elliot's insides
twisted, his instincts screaming at him to get up and walk away before the
other man could hurt him in public, and more importantly, before his
erection could get a hold.

 "Yeah, about that." Reaching to run his hand through what was left of his
hair, Toby's face twisted. "I- er, have a couple of things I need to add."

 "Not interested." 

 Elliot stood abruptly and strode to the coffee machine. He leaned both
hands on the counter and inhaled the sharp scent of coffee, trying to will
his hard-on away. 

 Behind him, Toby's voice came closer. "Elliot, please?"

 "I said *no*." 

 "Look, I know you're mad at me-"

 Elliot spun around. "Mad at you?" he barked. "After the way you *spoke*
to me? Are you kidding?" He laughed harshly. His voice dropped. "I'm not
mad, Beecher - I'm beyond that." 

 Toby winced. "I got things messed up. I know that now."

 Elliot glanced beyond Toby's shoulder; he could see the others in the
squad room staring at the floor show; three pairs of eyes wide in morbid
fascination. His anger cranked up a notch.

 Toby stepped closer. "I just need to-"

 "Just leave me alone, okay?" he snarled.

 "I need to tell you some stuff." 

 Toby reached out a hand and Elliot looked at it. It had a fresh scratch
between two knuckles. Elliot flinched away, wanting nothing more than to
take the hand and kiss it better like he'd promised himself would. 

 "Don't," he scowled, hating his overwhelming impulse to fulfil that
promise.

 "Elliot, please-" 

 Toby took one more step forward. Elliot felt either his head or his dick
would explode if that hand touched him. 

 "Don't fucking *touch* me!" he shouted. He lurched away from the counter,
taking a box of stirrers and tiny milk pots with him. 

 They clattered to the floor, bouncing around in their new-found freedom.
Elliot stopped, watching several spin in excited circles. He reached a
hand to the back of his neck and squeezed hard.

 He bent to slowly gather the mess up, horribly aware of the stares of his
colleagues, and the way his pants were stretching tight across his groin.
Both made his skin crawl with humiliation.

 "Elliot-" 

 He looked up at Cragen standing in his office doorway. He wasn't smiling.
"Can I have a word?"

 Gritting his teeth, Elliot stood up and dropped the contents of his hands
on the counter without a glance at anyone else. He walked towards the
office.

 The Captain closed his door much more quietly than Elliot thought he
would, under the circumstances.

 "Captain-" he began.

 "Shut up."

 Elliot stared. "But-"

 "Shut up and listen to me because I'm only gonna say this once. God help
me if I'm wrong, but I'm gonna say it anyway." He stood in front of Elliot
with a pointed finger a bare inch from Elliot's nose. "Leave early. Take
that man with you. Go find a bar somewhere very quiet, buy a lot of beer
and sort this shit out; one way or another. 

 "Captain, I-" Elliot started.

 "Don't argue, Elliot. It's pretty damn obvious that your crazy behaviour
lately is tied up in some way with him."

 "He's-"

 A large hand came up between them. "I'm still speaking, if you don't
mind." He took a big breath. "Sit in that bar until you know what you
want. Get drunk; decide one way or another if you're going to kiss or kill
him - but either way, come back to work tomorrow happy. Or at least
content."

 Elliot's eyes widened. "What're you saying?"

 Cragen pointed at the door. "Go."

 Elliot's face twisted in a helpless expression of confusion. "I'm not-"

 Cragen shook his head. "I don't care."

 "But-"

 "Go. Before I put a notation in your jacket for swearing at a member of
the public."

 Elliot opened his mouth, saw the expression on Cragen's face and closed
it again. He reached for the door then turned back. "Thanks," he said,
very softly.

 "I hope to Christ it works out for you, Elliot. Whatever 'it' is."

 Not knowing what else to say, Elliot just nodded and left the room.

 As the door closed behind him, he walked slowly across the squad room
with four pairs of eyes staring at him, solemn as a family of meerkats. He
sought out the one pair of eyes he was interested in, and ignoring the
others, he looked directly into the ice blue depths. 

 "You want some coffee?"

 Chapter sixteen

 It took Toby so long to find a parking spot, Elliot had begun to wonder
if the other man had ditched. He was on the verge of turning around and
walking away, when a blond head appeared in the crowd. The surge of relief
was only matched by the excitement he felt roll through him.

 "Hey," he said, automatically holding his hand out before he'd realized
what he'd done. To his relief, the other man didn't seem to think there
was anything unnatural about shaking hands; he just nodded and took it in
a warm clasp.

 "Sorry; there were no free spaces."

 "S'okay." Elliot smiled. He didn't feel comfortable enough to admit he'd
been panicking. "You want to-?" He indicated the seats they had used
before, guiding Toby to a quiet corner.

 They settled down, both nervous, neither wanting to start speaking.

 "You want..."

 "Shall I..."

 They spoke together, and smiling, Toby held a hand up. "You first."

 "I was going to ask if you wanted the same as last time," he said.

 "Sure. You can remember?"

 Elliot inclined his head as he stood up. "I was paying attention," he
smiled.

 Toby watched as the well-built body moved through the crowd, his gaze
wandering up and down the torso, admiring the graceful stride, the broad
shoulders and the outstanding ass. God, he thought, Please don't let me
fuck this up.

 ***

 "Is this how it's gonna be-" Elliot asked as he placed the tray down sat
in the huge armchair. "Me doomed to buying the most expensive coffee in
the history of the world?"

 Toby regarded the solemn face on the other man, and tried to keep a tight
hold on the hope that surged at the teasing tone. "I don't know," he said
carefully keeping his own tone neutral. "It all depends."

 "On?" Pouring the coffee out, Elliot kept his eyes on the task at hand.

 "Whether or not we ever see each other again, I guess."

 With the coffee poured, the sugar and cream added, Elliot had no more
excuses to avoid looking at the other man. He raised his gaze. Blue eyes
met him stare for stare. He swallowed. "Well, I'd like us to," he said as
carefully as Toby had.

 "Yeah?" 

 Elliot watched a grin start to spread over Toby's face. He smiled in
response. "I guess," he said, the knot in his belly uncoiling. "It's not
like my social calendar is rammed at the moment."

 Toby laughed softly. "Gee, thanks." He reached for his mug. "You think we
can make less of a fucking mess of things, this time?"

 Elliot shrugged. "Only one way to find out. Guess here's as good a place
as any to start from."

 "So; you think we *should* start over?" Toby asked, cursing his
insecurity.

 Elliot picked up his own drink. "Yes."

 Toby sipped and sighed, his eyes sliding shut for a moment. "Wonderful."

 "The coffee?"

 He laughed. "Maybe." Resting the mug on the arm of the chair, his eyes
flickered down to the table. Now for the tough part. "Look, Elliot, as
much as I'd like to, I can't ignore what happened between us. I'm sorry I
went crazy at you. It was dumb and more than a little drama-queenish." He
pulled a face. "Jesus - and I thought I didn't do 'drama-queen'."

 Elliot held up his hand. "No, *I'm sorry*. I should never have-" He
smiled and shook his head. "I mean I should have kept a step back during
the case; been more professional."

 "Shouldn't have flirted back at me, you mean?

 Elliot gave him a wry look. "You think I was flirting?"

 "God, I really hope so." 

 Elliot chuckled. "I guess I was, kinda. Without realizing it, I'm
afraid."

 "Oh, please!" Toby snorted.

 "No, really." Elliot glanced around quickly. "I told you, I'm not used to
this."

 "Being hit on by another guy?"

 "Yeah." 

 "Look, I gotta ask, Elliot. Before I make a total fool of myself-" He
took a breath. "Are you interested? In *me*, I mean. And I'm not talking
'beer, bikes and basketball' interested."

 Elliot held his gaze and wondered what he was going to say. One word, was
all it was gonna take to sort this out; like Cragen said: one way or
another. He could finish this mess with one word, smile, drink up his
coffee and walk away without breaking out of his 'straight cop' role. The
easier option, perhaps, but his mind gave him a quick flashback to this
morning, jerking off in the shower with this man's face in his head, and
he knew. 

 Toby sat waiting for the most important reply in his life, a wicked posse
of mammals in his belly busy turning his insides into a knot. 

 "Yes," Elliot said at last. 

 "Not beer?" Toby asked softly.

 "Not beer."

 "Nor basketball?"

 Elliot smiled. "No."

 Toby held up a finger. "I do like bikes, though."

 Elliot's smile turned into a grin. "Me too."

 "So. That's a yes, then." He grinned as the mammals inside his belly did
a happy dance.

 Nodding, Elliot relaxed. That hadn't been as tough as he thought. "I
gotta warn you, though, Toby," he said with a self-deprecating grin. "I'm
less than experienced at this."

 Toby's eyes widened. "In what way?"

 Elliot felt a blush threaten, thankful for the dim lighting. "Jesus, you
know - in *that* way."

 "Ah. I see." Toby studied the other man across the table, the words at
total odds with the appearance, the strut. "So are we talking - virginal -
here?"

 The threatened blush turned into a full-scale scarlet onslaught and
Elliot felt himself go hot all over. "Jesus Christ!" He leaned forward and
placed his mug down. "You wanna say that a little bit louder? I don't
think they heard you in the washrooms."

 Toby laughed. "I'm sorry. I'll behave."

 Elliot gave him a wry look. "I doubt that, somehow."

 "Relax; just tell me what I'm dealing with."

 Elliot cleared his throat and glanced around to make sure they weren't
being listened to. He squirmed, embarrassed. "I, um- I haven't had sex-"
he began.

 "I thought you said you were married?"

 "I don't mean *that* sort of a virgin," he said, exasperated. "I have
*kids*, for pete's sake!."

 Toby's eyes widened some more. "Yeah? How many, dare I ask?" he said,
taking another sip.

 "Four."

 Bursting out with delighted laughter, Toby choked on his coffee. "Fucking
hell, Elliot!" He put his mug down and accepted the offered napkin.
"Four!"

 "That's what usually happens in a marriage."

 "Yeah, I suppose. Thank God *that* never happened with Gen." He
shuddered.

 "You don't like kids?"

 "No - I love 'em. I just don't want any more reasons to have to speak to
my ex-wife if I can help it." 

 Elliot tilted his head to one side. "I didn't realize you'd been married,
too." 

 "Yeah, well, it's not something I'm proud of." He balled up the napkin
and threw it on the table. "Although to be fair, picking the wrong woman
to marry kind of pales in the light of picking the entirely wrong gender,
in the first place, you know?"

 "Oh." Elliot nodded slowly. He opened his mouth to say something else and
was embarrassed to find nothing but a jaw-cracking yawn emerging. 

 Toby's eyebrow lifted. "I'm boring you?"

 Laughing, Elliot scrubbed at his eyes. "No. I'm sorry; I've not been
sleeping too well." He wondered how much of himself he'd just given away.

 "No; me neither," Toby admitted quietly and they stared at one another in
understanding silence for a while. At last, Toby smiled. "So; going back
to the bit where you said you were interested in me."

 Elliot grinned. "Oh, so it's all about you, huh?"

 "Of course. I am the drama-queen in this relationship, after all." Toby
tilted his head to one side. "Explain something to me, if you would."

 "I'll try."

 "Why?"

 Elliot blew out a breath and flopped back in his seat. "Damned if I
know," he said. "Never so much as looked as another man since..." he
trailed off, frowning.

 "Since?" Toby leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. 

 Elliot chewed his bottom lip, considering how much to say. A clatter of
silverware across the room drew his gaze, reminding him of the lack of
privacy. "There was this guy, once," he said softly.

 "Hey, my favorite beginning to a fairy story," Toby grinned.

 "Shut up or I won't tell you." Elliot smiled. Toby mimed zipping up his
mouth and waited. "There was this guy," Elliot continued. "When I was in
the Marines-"

 "Oh, God! You were in the service, too?" Toby rolled his eyes. "I've died
and gone to heaven."

 "Shut up, man." 

 "Hey, I can't help my imagination." He grinned. "You still got the
uniform?"

 Elliot narrowed his eyes. "No."

 "Pity. Carry on; this guy."

 "Well, we kinda hooked up, you know?"

 "And?"

 Elliot gave an exasperated sigh. "Can't you use that imagination of
yours?"

 Laughing, Toby rolled his eyes. "Oh, trust me, I'm using it. I'm using
it." He stuck out his tongue and panted.

 Elliot winced. "Jesus." 

 Eyebrows wiggling, Toby pulled his tongue in. "So, I'm guessing this
Marine 'buddy' of yours showed you the road less travelled?"

 "You could say that."

 "And did you like it?"

 Smiling as he took a mouthful of coffee, Elliot swallowed it down. "You
honestly think I'd be here, if I hadn't?"

 "I guess not." He jerked his chin. "Been anyone else, since?"

 "No."

 "Why not?"

 Elliot stared at the ceiling for a moment. "He and I went our separate
ways-" He refused to let his mind look at that memory any closer. "And I
came home to my wife."

 "You're kidding?"

 He looked at Toby. "No. I'm not."

 "How long?"

 Elliot sighed. "Twenty-odd years."

 "Fuck." Toby's jaw dropped a little. "And you never - You know - in all
that time?"

 Elliot shrugged, torn between pride and embarrassment. "No." 

 Toby sat in stunned silence while Elliot concentrated on his coffee. When
he had drained his drink and leaned forward to replace the mug on the
tray, he stared at it if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
Then picked up his napkin and began to shred the little paper square in
his hands.

 "Dead give-away," Toby said, pointing. "Classic sign of nervousness."

 "You don't say." Elliot threw the ruined napkin down.

 "There's no need to be."

 Elliot snorted. "No; there's *every* need."

 "What do you think's gonna happen?" Toby laughed. 

 "I have no idea," Elliot admitted. "And that's what's scaring me."

 "I thought you said you'd-"

 "I don't mean the-" He said, glancing around. "I'm not talking about the
*sex*," he finished with a whisper. 

 "Then what?"

 "I mean the fact that I'm considering throwing away twenty years of
heterosexual behaviour by being here with you."

 "Oh." Toby considered this. "And that scares you?"

 "Shitless."

 Smiling, Toby shook his head. "Unless you're planning on wearing
slingbacks and a pink over-the-shoulder cashmere sweater in the station
house, I'd be willing to bet you're not gonna change that much."

 Elliot smiled at the image. 

 "You're the same man you've always been; you'll just be physically
involved with me, not a woman."

 Staring at those blue eyes, Elliot felt his panic subside a touch. "Yeah,
I guess so." He gave an ironic laugh. "That is if I can remember what it's
like to be 'physically involved' with anyone." His laugh trickled away
under Toby's intense gaze. He let his eyes slide back down to the ruined
napkin.

 When Toby spoke, it was very quietly. "So, Elliot; do you want to do
something about that?"

 Elliot looked up at him, a mixture of excitement warring with a jolt of
fear. "I, um- I guess so."

 "Gee, don't overwhelm me with your enthusiasm, Detective."

 A small smile tugged Elliot's mouth. "Fuck you."

 Toby grinned and winked. Elliot caught the double-meaning and groaned,
covering his eyes. "Oh, man," he muttered, laughing. 

 "One thing at a time, gorgeous."

 "Stop."

 "Oh, I don't think I can do that any more."

 Elliot moved his hands away from his face, elbows resting on his knees,
to look at him. "Yeah?"

 Toby smiled. "I think I'm in far too deep for that."

 For some reason, those words squeezed something way down inside Elliot.
He worked his jaw, unable to speak for the moment.

 Toby leaned forward, the smile still on his face. Their noses were inches
apart. Blinking slowly, Toby let a wicked grin spread over his face. "You
know, Detective Stabler, there's something I've wanted to do since the
second I laid eyes on you."

 Elliot stared as Toby came closer and closer, not quite believing what
his eyes were telling him. Moments later, his lips confirmed what it was
Toby had in mind.

 Chapter seventeen

 There was no thunderclap or bolt of lightening to strike them down. There
was no shout of disgust or riot. In fact, it was a bit of an anticlimax,
save for the way Elliot's dick hardened so fast he thought he'd pass out.

 If Toby could do this to him with a chaste, closed-mouthed kiss, heaven
only knew what devilment that serpentine tongue could get up to with time
and privacy. The thought of that tongue on his body brought a surge of
blood to Elliot crotch that positively hurt. He groaned.

 Toby moved away. "Are you okay?" he asked, suddenly wary.

 "Yeah." Elliot opened his eyes. "I guess that answers the question," he
muttered, running his tongue over his bottom lip, amused to see Toby's
eyes follow the movement.

 "What question?"

 "Whether I want to kiss or kill you."

 Toby frowned. "I don't follow."

 Elliot shook his head. "Never mind." He glanced around, wide-eyed in
sudden realization. "God, I can't believe you just did that in public!"

 Toby laughed. "Actually, I think you'll find *we* did that."

 "We're in a coffee-shop," Elliot hissed between clenched teeth.

 "Relax. We're in a *gay* coffee-shop," Toby corrected. He looked
pointedly around.

 Elliot followed his gaze, noting for the first time that there were
mostly single-sexed pairs sitting at the booths and little rainbow flags
over the bar. He felt his jaw drop. "You brought me to a gay coffee-shop!"

 "So what?"

 "You didn't know I was-" He hesitated. "Amenable," he finished lamely.

 Toby laughed. "And your point is? Look, who cares? Even if you were
irredeemably straight, it wouldn't matter where you drank your coffee." He
winked. "Mind you; you might have gotten used to being hit on by guys if
you'd come here more often."

 "I can't believe I didn't notice before," Elliot said, still gazing
around. 

 "So much for your detective skills."

 Elliot pulled a face. "Ha, ha." Frowning slightly, he pulled his bottom
lip between his teeth and nibbled at the skin. Decision time. He drew in a
breath and glanced at Toby. "So?"

 Toby nodded, waiting patiently for Elliot to suggest the next move. "So."


 "You wanna-" Elliot lifted one shoulder. 

 "I take it that little gesture means you'd like to take this someplace
else?"

 Taking his courage in both hands and holding tight, Elliot nodded.
"Yeah."

 "Well, then, let's go." Toby stood up. He began to move away from the
table. "My place okay?"

 "Yeah."

 "It's not far; follow me." He moved away from the table.

 "You not gonna finish that, then?" Elliot pointed at this half full mug.

 Toby looked at the mug, then Elliot, then back to the mug. He said
nothing.

 Elliot rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. I was only asking." He stood up,
straightening his jacket. "It was fuckin' expensive," he muttered.

 Toby laughed. "I'll make it up to you."

 ***

 There was plenty of room to park at Toby's apartment, albeit in 2 spaces
as far from his place as was humanly possible. Toby grumbled as he trotted
across the forecourt behind Elliot. "Bastards in 16. They always take my
spaces."

 "I could have them busted for you," Elliot teased. 

 "You'd do that for me?" Toby grinned. 

 "Depends."

 "On?"

 "If you make it worth my while." 

 Toby laughed. "I could get to like having a cop round to play."

 "You might find I'm high maintenance."

 "Oh, I think I'll risk it."

 Elliot reached the main door first. He stood while Toby caught up, found
his key and slotted it in the lock. 

 "Tell me, Elliot," he said, letting the door swing open. "Were you doing
the quickstep back there because you wanted to distance yourself from me,
or are you just keen to get it on?" He meant it as a joke, but hesitated
when he saw the expression on Elliot's face. 

 "That was a-" he started to explain, shocked to find himself grabbed by
the lapels and pinned against the wall. He attempted to justify the
comment, but found Elliot's body shoved hard to his, the other man's mouth
crawling over his, swallowing his words.

 There were no more words for a long while. Elliot kissed Toby with all
the pent-up frustration of the past couple of weeks; using his tongue, his
lips and occasionally his teeth to make his feelings clear.

 Eventually, breathless, he licked his way out of the kiss and leaned
back, his teeth dragging Toby's bottom lip with him. He grinned at the
stunned expression on the other man's face. "That answer your question?"
he growled in a low voice, smirking.

 Toby's tongue gathered the moisture from his lips and took it inside his
mouth to taste. He stared at the slightly wild expression on Elliot's face
and wondered briefly if he could handle what he'd unleashed. "Christ," he
whispered.

 There was a heartbeat of stillness, then Toby's eyes darted to the
stairway. Both men grinned at the same time and started off up the stairs,
hell bent for leather, laughing and clattering up the stairs, grabbing the
handrail, taking the treads two at a time.

 "Third floor," Toby gasped, one step behind Elliot. 

 "Fuck!" Elliot managed to say. "Tryin' to kill me." He swung around the
last landing and hesitated, unsure which door. Toby pushed past, his key
ready. 

 "This one." He forced the door open and fell through into his apartment,
gasping for breath, laughing.

 Elliot stumbled in after him, slamming the door shut. He grabbed the back
of Toby's jacket and swung him around. Toby took the momentum and used it
to his advantage, pressing himself against Elliot, his hands either side
of the other man's head, trapping him against the wall.

 "Ha! Gotcha."

 "You think?" Elliot grinned. He ducked down, grabbed Toby's arms in a
basic Aikido move and spun him around, squashing his face into the
wallpaper, one arm bent up between his shoulder blades.

 "Fuck!" Toby squeaked, his face distorted against the wall. 

 Elliot eased up a touch. He leaned forward, hooking his chin over Toby's
shoulder. "You okay?" he whispered. He felt Toby shudder.

 "Oh, yeah." The blond head turned around, his mouth bare inches from
Elliot's face. "Shit, you can do that to me any time, sir," he breathed.

 Elliot's eyes raked over Toby's face as if memorizing it. A small sad,
smile tugged at his mouth so briefly that Toby wondered if he'd been
mistaken. And then he was being kissed again. He leaned his head back,
opened his mouth and gave up to it, the warmth of the contact spreading
down his whole body. From behind Elliot crushed their bodies together,
hips grinding, tongue imitating the movement. He forced his erection
against Toby's buttocks hard enough to hurt, desperately trying to
increase the friction.

 Toby jerked his head away from the probing tongue. "Bedroom," he gasped
out.

 As if that was a magic word, Elliot instantly eased off. He pulled his
body away, but buried his nose in the gap where Toby's collar met his
neck. He inhaled sharply. 

 Toby wriggled away, grabbed his hand and pulled him to the farthest door.
He burst through, stumbling slightly, dragging Elliot with him. They both
crashed onto the bed, a jumble of arms and legs. Toby laughed like a
maniac. "S-shiiit!"

 Not bothering to reply, Elliot began pulling the other man's clothes off.
A frown of concentration knitting his brows as he flung the clothing to
the floor. Only when he had exposed Toby's body from the waist up did he
pause, gazing down. He stared so long Toby began to squirm. 

 "What?" he asked, resisting the urge to grab a cushion to cover himself.

 Elliot smiled. "Nothing."

 "Well, clearly something's bothering you." He fought to keep the snip out
of his tone.

 "I've been waiting to do this for the longest time." He reached out and
traced a finger all the way from Toby's collar bone to his belt. It had
been so long since he had touched another man's body in anything other
than anger that the breath caught in his throat. He dug in fingers into
Toby's flesh, denting the skin. He pushed down, kneading the muscle and
bone, revelling in the fact he didn't have to be mindful of hurting a more
delicate female body. He wanted growl in satisfaction.

 "God..." Skin pricking and shivering, Toby groaned and arched, cat-like
into the firm touch. 

 Taking the response as a green light, Elliot's hands began to scrabble at
Toby's belt, unlashing it and grabbing at the zipper. Not giving the other
man a chance to do anything to assist, he pulled both hips up and the
pants down in one desperate movement.

 "Fucking hell, Elliot," Toby laughed, half impressed at the sliver-back
gorilla-type display of strength, half pissed at how easy it'd been to
unclothe him.

 "What?" Elliot barely looked up, his eyes fixed on Toby's naked groin,
hypnotized by the gracefully curved, swollen flesh. His own cock surged in
response.

 "C'mere." Toby reached up and grabbed Elliot's belt, determined to do a
little bit of 'chest-thumping' of his own. He snaked the belt through the
loops, the leather snapping in the air as it came free. He tried to get a
grip of the zipper, but was defeated by Elliot's shirt tails hanging in
the way. In exasperation, he flopped back down and pointed. "You; get your
clothes off. *Now*."

 "Yes, sir." Grinning as he sat back on his heels, Elliot proceeded to
strip out of his working uniform of jacket, shirt and tie. He slid silk
through cotton, buttons through holes with slow, erotic deliberation - his
fingers sliding over the material, tongue protruding suggestively. He
hadn't stripped for anyone with a blatant intent to seduce for years, and
it made him almost giddy with desire.

 Toby watched him, open mouthed and breathing heavily, the sexual tension
cranking up as they fed on each other's desire.

 "Oh, my God-" Toby whispered as Elliot's undershirt dropped to the floor.
He reached up to lay a hand on the large chest in front of him. "You're
fucking beautiful."

 Elliot gave a small grunt of amusement as he pushed his chest forward
towards probing fingers that were kneading the sloping muscle. He narrowed
his eyes as Toby's other hand reached up to join in, his thumbs digging in
hard. It felt good, but at the same time, the squeezing was almost too
much, the sensation ready to slide into pain. He hissed as Toby pinched
his nipple unexpectedly. "Fuck-" He frowned. "That hurts."

 "Hurts 'good', or hurts 'bad'?" Toby asked, doing it again.

 Elliot arched his back. "Good," he admitted, through clenched teeth,
embarrassed at how he was responding. He couldn't remember the last time
he'd been this hard, this desperate. 

 "Good," echoed Toby. He grabbed Elliot's hips and used them to lever
himself into a sitting position. With a wicked grin, he slid his hands up
the wide back and swept his tongue over a nipple.

 Elliot responded with a flinch. He glanced down to watch that
ridiculously agile tongue licking him; the sight striking him as so deeply
erotic, a feral growl rattled from the back of his throat.

 Toby's grin widened - he licked again and again, loving the noises that
came from inside the magnificent chest. He dug his fingers in and latched
his mouth over the wet nipple.

 Elliot's breath left his body in a grunt of pain and pleasure that
sounded embarrassingly needy. He grabbed the back of Toby's head, partly
to keep his balance, but mostly to push that suckling mouth hard against
his body. His eyes slid shut as the wicked mouth licked and sucked at his
chest, while hands scratched across his back.

 Alternating from one nipple to the other, Toby was intent on making
Elliot writhe under his mouth; he would not allow the other man to pull
away, to escape his teeth, his tongue. Fine hairs snagged between his
teeth in a way he knew must hurt, but Elliot didn't seem to mind; his
hands made no attempt to pull him away. Toby discovered a basic fact of
life as he nuzzled Elliot's chest - he couldn't suck whilst grinning.

 The sharp sting as Toby's teeth grazed his flesh forced a thin whining
sound from Elliot's throat. He squirmed at the needle-sharp pain,
completely stunned at how incredibly erotic this felt. He had no idea his
chest and nipples could be such a source of pleasure. How could he not
know this at his age?

 Toby wiped his wet mouth on Elliot's skin as he bit his way down his
sternum as far as he could reach. His hands slid around to stroke the
rock-hard belly, stunned by the ridges of muscles under the skin. The
strength hidden here was humbling, and amazingly erotic.

 With Elliot's shirt gone there was nothing to impede Toby's attack on his
pants, so he applied himself with renewed vigour, and in seconds they were
pulled open and yanked down. Toby paused, looking at the rigid cock in
front of him, fleetingly amused at how the track pants hadn't really done
the other man justice. 

 He took the swollen cock in one hand and craning his neck down in a
borderline insane manner, licked the end. Above him, Elliot's whole body
jerked, and he yelled out. Toby grinned. Risking dislocated vertebrae, he
licked again, thrilled by another strangled cry.

 "Fuck..!" Elliot panted, grabbing at the blond head. He wasn't sure if he
wanted to force Toby down on him, or rip him away. His fingers scratched
through the short hair in frustration, the thought of that incredible
tongue on his cock making his whole body tremble.

 Toby felt Elliot's body shudder, on the edge. He grinned and fell back on
the bed, grabbing both hands around Elliot's hips, forcing him to crash
down on top of him. The breath was driven clean out of his lungs with the
weigh of a surprised detective.

 "God," he gasped out, the grin turning manic at the rush of pleasure that
full, warm body contact gave him.

 Elliot propped himself up on his elbows to look down, eyebrows on the
rise with a question. Not allowing him the chance to ask if he was okay,
Toby leaned up and kissed him again, revelling in the taste of coffee, the
feel of saliva. His agile tongue slithered between Elliot's teeth to
stroke the roof of his mouth, darting back out before Elliot could catch
it. Grinning, Toby teased the other man, nipping back and forth, flicking
his tongue between lips, against teeth, until he felt Elliot grunt with
frustration and slide his hand around the back of Toby's neck to pull him
closer.

 Pressing down his full weight onto the other man, Elliot pinned him down
and chased that insane tongue around Toby's mouth before finally coaxing
it into his own. Trapping it against the roof of his mouth he began to
suckle on it, feeling a stab of triumph at the helpless noises from the
other man.

 Chapter eighteen

 They weren't very elegant, Toby thought to himself. And it definitely
wasn't tidy - not the way he'd imagined making love to this man, at all.
In fact, they were a completely uncoordinated mess of arms and legs,
mouths and tongues - neither seemingly able to get enough skin contact,
which was crazy considering they were both mostly naked.

 There was only enough unallocated blood left in Elliot for the most
fleeting of thoughts about the way they were making out. They were like
rutting mink, or a couple of crazy teenagers too scared to take their time
in case they got caught. He wanted to pull back, to say: stop, wait - slow
down, but his body wouldn't let him stop, and the way Toby's tongue was
lodged in his mouth, the other man seemed disinclined to speak, too.

 He knew he was too heavy to be lying on Toby like this - but the other
man didn't seem to mind. Seemed to like it, actually, judging by the way
his hands were gripping his ass, pulling him down. A tiny part of him
laughed that in all their wrestling, along with his spit, he seemed to
have gathered up and swallowed Toby's voice, too. 

 Toby squirmed beneath Elliot, pawing at the slippery flesh, digging in
his fingers, his nails. He knew he was leaving marks; knew tomorrow would
bring visible signs of what he was doing; but he was unable to reign
himself back. He had to bite, squeeze, taste, and if Elliot objected to
the way he was making love, he wasn't letting it show. They groaned in
unison as they strained to grind their erections together, squirming and
thrusting against each other. 

 Elliot could feel their skin becoming slick with sweat and pre-come. The
way his cock was sliding in between their hot bodies and the prickle of
Toby's pubic hair on the sensitive head was rapidly undoing what little
control he had. He was holding onto his orgasm with every delaying
technique he had ever employed, but it was a tenuous grip. He pumped his
hips into Toby's groin in synch with the way his mouth was being
tongue-fucked, wanting to bury himself in the hot flesh. The wet, sliding
sensation at both ends cranked up the tension. He felt his balls
tightening. 

 Elliot pulled in a shaky breath through his nose, feeling Toby's tongue
slide deep inside his mouth, desperate and demanding, kissing him as if it
was the most erotic thing in the world and all he ever wanted to do. 

 He wanted to break off, to tell Toby that he felt exactly the same way,
to laugh and say slow down, they had all the time in the world - but he
felt Toby's hands spread his ass cheeks open and touch him in a place that
had been neglected for 20 years and that was all it took. With a roar, his
orgasm shot out of him, hot and wet, spreading between their bodies.

 Toby heard the shout and felt the shudder run through the powerful body
lying on top of him and knew he was responsible for it. The thought that
he had made Elliot Stabler lose complete and noisy control was enough to
finish him off. With a guttural shout, he thrust his hips up into the
slippery ejaculate coating his stomach, and added his own.

 ***

 Both panting heavily, they lay still; sweaty and trembling, bellies glued
together. With his face buried in the crook of Toby's neck, Elliot could
barely get enough oxygen in side his body. Sparkly motes danced under his
eyelids. He turned his head to the side, too wiped out to move any more.
He felt completely washed out, exhausted and perfectly, utterly content. A
wave of self-deprecation fermented in his belly, bubbling out of him in a
throaty groan.

 A pair of hands slid up his arms. Toby moved beneath him. "Hey?" he said,
pushing up.

 Grunting, Elliot leaned sideways and slithered off Toby's chest, the
semen helping to slide them apart without too much effort. Very gently,
the complaint rattled out of him again.

 "You okay?" Toby asked, peering at him.

 "Yeah." Elliot smiled. "Sorry - I just couldn't hold on." He gave a
self-deprecating shake of his head. "Man, I feel older than dirt, but here
I go, shootin' off like a kid."

 Toby grinned, pecking a kiss to the end of Elliot's nose. "Well,
Detective, I consider that a compliment." 

 Elliot looked at him. He seemed genuinely unconcerned about the brief
performance. He liked that. "My pleasure," he shrugged, kissing the other
man slowly and more intimately, on the mouth.

 With a sigh, Toby relaxed against the pillow. He stretched and yawned.
Frowning, he reached down to run a finger across his belly. "Why is it
that this stuff is amazingly erotic until two seconds after it goes cold?"
He leaned over the bed and snagged his tee shirt. He made short work of
the mess on his stomach before offering the damp cloth across the bed.

 Wiping up whilst pulling a face, Elliot sighed. "You know, any decent
host would have offered the guest the cloth first."

 "Yeah, well - whaddya gonna do?" Toby snickered.

 Elliot shot him a narrowed-eyed look as he wiped his belly clean. He
sighed, looking down his body. Then in a sudden burst of movement, lifted
his legs and thrashed his them up and down, kicking his pants off. "Shit,"
he said tersely, sitting up. He swung his legs over the bed and sat there,
staring down.

 "What's up?" Toby asked, his heart pounding all over again, but this time
in fear that the other man was about to walk out. He swallowed. "Elliot?"

 With a loud sigh, Elliot stood up suddenly, making the mattress lurch.
Toby bit his tongue, waiting for the inevitable 'shit, I gotta go' scene. 

 "Never gonna get the fuckin' creases out if I leave them on the floor,"
Elliot muttered, picking his pants up and folding them carefully. He
glanced over to the bed as he reached out to hang them over a chair. "Is
it okay-?" he hesitated, holding them at arm's length in mid-air. 

 Toby rushed to answer the unspoken question. "Yeah, God - stay. Please."
Toby hoped he didn't have one of his 'manic serial-killer' grins plastered
all over his face He scooted over, digging his way under the covers. He
watched Elliot fuss and fold his pants, smoothing them down before turned
to stand at the edge of the bed. Toby's smile creaked wider at the sight
of a naked Detective Stabler standing beside his bed. "Getting in?"

 "You sure?"

 "You need a written invitation, already?" He was amazed to see an
expression of endearing uncertainty cross Elliot's face. He patted the
pillow beside him. "Elliot? Please get in."

 With a nod and a little smile, Elliot climbed in beside him. He wriggled
around for so long, Toby couldn't hold back the amused sigh. "Will you
quit that? You're like some goddamned feral dog, trampling reeds."

 Elliot stilled and looked over at him, his face a picture. "I'm just
tryin' to get comfy."

 "Jesus, it's a $1200 bed, Elliot. It's comfy, already."

 Elliot huffed, rolling his eyes. "Touchy."

 Toby chuckled. He slipped across the gap between them and entwined his
arms and legs with Elliot's. He looked at the other man, unsure how he'd
feel about cuddling up. "Is *this* kind of 'touchy' okay?"

 Elliot answered Toby's question by pulling the other man close and
burying his nose in the crook of his neck and sighing. "Yeah. It is."

 Toby grinned against Elliot's forehead. He knew damned well this time the
grin was the serial killer one.

 Chapter nineteen

 They lay quietly, listening to each other breathe, the thumping of two
heartbeats and the quiet scrunch of the clock by the bed. Toby's one hand
gently stroked the skin under Elliot's ear and sighed, completely content.

 "You okay?" Elliot asked from the depth of the pillow.

 "Hhmmmm." Toby turned his head and kissed the side of Elliot's face,
careful to avoid the bullet-scrape. "I'm more than okay, thank you."

 Elliot looked at him in the darkness. "Really?"

 "Oh, yeah." Toby could see well enough to recognise the shine of teeth as
Elliot grinned. 

 "Good. Me too."

 "We're a couple of fucking idiots, aren't we?"

 Elliot chuckled. "I guess. But it's cool, now."

 Toby rubbed an itch under his nose. "You sure? Cause I'd like to do this
again - and as often as possible."

 Elliot lay still as he considered the question. There was no question
that he felt content, relaxed. The shuddering orgasm seemed to have shaken
that restless, irritating niggle he'd been carting around since... he
frowned, calculating - working back in time. Was it really as simple as
that? Had the past twenty years just been one huge fucking mistake? No.
Not a mistake. No way he'd ever think of his children as anything other
than a blessing. But his marriage? It hadn't always been bad, not until
the last few years, anyway. But had he and Kathy just been making the best
of a bad situation? Was the whole thing his fault for trying to prove
something? It was an uncomfortable thought.

 Toby nudged him. "Elliot? You're not making me any less insecure, here."

 "Sorry." He gathered his thoughts and focussed on the man next to him.
"Yeah, it's cool," he said.

 "Could've fooled me. You looked like you were about to leap up and run
screaming from the room."

 "No, I wasn't." Elliot shifted up a bit to look Toby directly in the
face. "I was just thinking." He pulled the sheet up to his shoulders. 

 The defensive gesture wasn't lost on Toby. "Oh-oh."

 "No, it's nothing bad, just-"

 Toby couldn't help the wince that crossed his face. "Doubts?"

 Elliot smiled. "No."

 Toby reached out and tapped the end of Elliot's nose. "You mean to tell
me you don't have any doubts about throwing away twenty years of
heterosexual behaviour? Come on - I'm not that nave."

 Elliot nodded. "I got some," he said ruefully. "I'm not that nave,
either. But that aside-" He smiled. "I'm good."

 "So, you think there's a chance I'll wake up tomorrow and you'll still be
in my bed?"

 Elliot shrugged. "Depends."

 "On?"

 "My bladder. It ain't what it used to be."

 Toby chuckled. "Okay; an incontinent. I'm pre-warned. Oh, and by the way
- I snore like an adenoidal hippo."

 "Shit." Elliot groaned. "Like this isn't gonna be tough enough."

 "Being with me is tough?"

 Elliot looked at him for a long time. When he spoke, it was very softly.
"I'm a Catholic father of four, Toby. How much tougher could it be?"

 Toby bit his lip and nodded. "Yeah. I know; I'm sorry. I shouldn't be
flippant about it." He took a slow, deep breath. "So-" He waved his hand
between them. "You think you could be more than just 'okay' with this,
some day?"

 "Are you always this insecure?" Elliot smiled.

 "Are you always this evasive?"

 That made Elliot laugh out loud. "Dunno. Maybe you'll have to stick
around to find out."

 "I might just do that."

 Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Probably gonna be a real bumpy ride."

 "Yeah?"

 "Almost guarantee it."

 Toby looked him in the eye and nodded. "I'll take my chances. Besides,"
He slipped a hand under the covers and stroked up Elliot's thigh. "I want
to find out if you can last more than two minutes, next time."

 Laughing, Elliot reached down and grabbed the invasive hand. "Bastard!"
He flexed his arm and pulled hard. Toby resisted and they wrestled
briefly, grabbing each at other's hands and arms, laughing.

 The pseudo-fight didn't last very long before Elliot yelped as a finger
poked him. He barked out a sharp laugh. "Stop! God, I give in!" He
relaxed, surrendering completely as Toby used his legs to pin his body
down. He allowed Toby to hold his hands on the pillow above his head.
There was a wicked grin on the other man's face. "What're you grinning
at?" he smiled.

 "You," Toby replied, leaning down to lick Elliot's chin. "Under my
control."

 "So you think," Elliot argued, but made no effort to get free. He rather
liked the feeling of Toby's weight on him. "Just so happens I'm letting
you *think* you're the boss"

 Toby laughed out loud. "Yeah, right." He bent his head and kissed the
pursed mouth, forcing the lips apart. His tongue filled Elliot's mouth, as
he ground himself between the other man's legs.

 Beneath him, Elliot opened both his lips and thighs wide. He slid his
tongue into Toby's mouth, and his legs around the back of the other man's
thighs, gripping hard, forcing their groins together. He lazily humped his
hips upwards in time with their tongues.

 "Shit," Toby breathed into Elliot's mouth. He lifted his head to regard
the other man. "Bastard," he grumbled, struggling to move his semi-erect
cock into a more comfortable position.

 Elliot laughed. "Now who's the boss?" 

 Toby narrowed his eyes. The smirk on Stabler's face irked him. He lifted
himself up slightly and tilted his head. "Well, you're the detective, you
tell me," he said, unravelling his tongue and applying it to the base of
Elliot's neck. He began to drag it downwards.

 Elliot squirmed. He was ticklish, but wasn't about to let Toby know that.
"You think you're real funny, you know that?"

 "Uh-huh," Toby replied without pausing in his wet trail. He reached the
broad chest and had to release Elliot's wrists as he wriggled his body
down the bed. 

 Elliot tensed, a bubble of laughter trying to squeeze out of his throat.
He lowered his hands and gripped the sheets by his sides to keep from
moving. "Tired, yet?" he chuckled, peering down at the top of the blond
head.

 "Uh-uh." Toby could feel spit dribbling down his tongue as he made his
way down Stabler's stomach. He chuffed with laughter as he poked in the
belly button, and Elliot's whole body jumped and shivered.

 Elliot wriggled, laughing. "Enough, Beecher!"

 Toby shook his head as he glanced up, his tongue trailing over to one hip
bone. He grinned manically, raising his eyebrows. He paused, opening his
mouth even wider.

 "Don't you dare-" Elliot began. He didn't get to finish before Toby's
eyes glinted with mischief, and he bit down, hard.

 Elliot exploded with a strangled mixture of shock and ticklish reaction.
He grabbed Toby's head. "Oh, fffffuck!"

 Toby pulled his mouth off the flare of Elliot's hip with a loud 'pop'. He
stared up, innocent. "What? You don't like that?"

 "Yeah... yeah. No!" 

 Toby rolled his eyes. "So which is it?"

 Elliot pulled a face. "Just- gently, okay?"

 Toby snickered. "Baby." He looked back down at Elliot's groin and stroked
a finger over the skin. "There's gotta be a real funny story to go with
this," he said with a smile.

 Elliot peered down. He pushed Toby's hand away and touched the small
tattoo. "What - you don't like it?"

 "Oh, sure," Toby chuckled. 

 "Are you making fun?"

 "Who, me?"

 Elliot frowned. "Yeah, asshole - you."

 Toby shook his head. "I wouldn't dream of it, Detective. But you gotta
admit, it doesn't exactly go with the whole 'butch' thing the other two
have, does it?"

 "Kiss my ass, fuck-face," Elliot said, flicking a fingernail against
Toby's forehead with a sharp, clunking sound. 

 "Ow! Oh, man, just for that-" Grabbing Elliot's hips, Toby held him down
and attacked the other bone, deliberately sucking as hard as he could.

 "OW! Sshhhiiiit!" Elliot howled. 

 Coming up with another loud smack, Toby looked at his handiwork. A large,
mouth-shaped bruise adorned Elliot's hip. "Cool," he said, wiping the spit
off the skin. 

 "What the-?" Elliot craned his neck down to look. "Aw, fuckin' hell,
Toby." He poked the mark. "How the hell am I gonna take a shower at work,
now?"

 Toby grinned up at him. "You got a hickey? So what?"

 "I'm divorced," Elliot said with a scowl.

 "No, you're *single*," Toby pointed out.

 Elliot grunted with bad grace. "I'm too fucking old to get hickies,
*that's* what I am," he muttered, rubbing at the mark.

 Toby rolled his eyes. He pushed Elliot's hand out of the way and kissed
the bruise. "There. That better?"

 Resting on his bent elbows, Elliot looked down at him. "No."

 Toby shook his head. "You must practice that look in the mirror."

 "What?"

 Toby pointed. "That expression. You've spent some serious time perfecting
that, haven't you?"

 Elliot just scowled harder. "Bite me," he snapped, then his eyes widened.
"NO!" He grabbed Toby's head. "Wait, I just mean-"

 "Relax," Toby pushed the hands away. I know what you mean." He grinned.
"But now you mention it-" He looked down at Elliot's cock, which despite
his orgasm, was standing proud from his body. "What do we have here?" He
touched a finger to the head.

 "What does it look like?" Elliot pushed his hips up.

 "Well, I gotta say I'm impressed." Propping himself on his elbows, Toby
took hold of Elliot's penis and swept his tongue from his hand to the top
of the head and back down again. "Not bad for an old man."

 "Fuck you - we're about the same age."

 Toby grinned. "Yeah, I know." He ground his own erection into Elliot's
leg. "I'm pretty fuckin' impressed with me, too." He bent his head and
licked.

 Chapter twenty.

 Elliot watched the other man through eyes narrowed to slits. Toby licked
him over and over, like he was the world's strangest lollipop. His tongue
was both rough and silken and Elliot's hips thrust in time with the
strokes. He reached down to touch Toby's head. "Wait-"

 Looking up, Toby licked the saliva from his lips, the sight making the
pulse in Elliot's cock beat harder. "Problem?" Toby asked.

 Elliot shook his head. "No. I just want to-" He sat up and pulled at
Toby's shoulder. "Turn around. I want to-" He shrugged, not quite brave
enough to say the words. "You know-"

 The blank look on Toby's face cleared. "Oh, I get it." Scrambling through
the sheets, he shifted around, top-to-tail. He stretched to look up at
Elliot. "I thought you were tired?" 

 "I was, until you started licking me with that thing." 

 Toby laughed. "I told you it was versatile."

 "That you did." Elliot smiled. "And I'm very appreciative."

 "Not yet, but you soon will be," Toby said, lying flat, leaning his head
on Elliot's thigh. He stuck his tongue out and tickled the head of the
other man's cock.

 Elliot chuckled and ran his hand over Beecher's thigh before settling
himself there. He stared at the thick cock bobbing in front of his face
for a second, assailed both by memories and sudden nervousness. There was
a tiny moment of doubt and a sliver of embarrassment worming their way
into his mind. Kissing and humping could maybe be excused away as some
kind of crazy playfulness - but deliberately putting another man's penis
in his mouth was altogether another matter. He took a calming breath - and
was immediately struck by Toby's warm scent. There was no getting away
from what he was about to, and to whom.

 Down the bed, oblivious to Elliot's hesitation, Toby leaned in and
nuzzled the other man, burying his face in his crotch. He opened his mouth
and caressed the nearly hairless balls. He heard Stabler grunt gently and
part his legs - wordlessly offering himself to Toby. With a grin of
satisfaction, Beecher put his wicked tongue to work.

 Long, wet strokes of Toby's tongue gently undid the knot of tension in
Elliot's stomach; the warmth, sliding up and down the sensitive skin sent
a rush of lust to his groin. The memories of how good it felt flooded
back, the desire to enjoy this act again drowned the last of his
uncertainty. He opened his mouth without further thought and took Toby
inside.

 Toby uttered a strangled groan with the erotic overload of having Elliot
Stabler's mouth on his cock. The heat, the wetness and the sheer mental
image of having this man go down on him brought a surge of blood to his
groin that threatened to finish him off. He quickly took hold of Elliot's
cock and shoved it in his mouth, sucking hard to reciprocate.

 Elliot gave a long, heartfelt moan as his cock was thrust deep into
Toby's mouth. His hips lifted, unconsciously following through. How had he
managed to last 20 years without this? 

 Toby's tongue rubbed on the underside on his penis, stroking all the way
from root to head. Mouth full, cock buried to the hilt in another man's
throat, Elliot's whole body arched and tensed, revelling in the whole
experience, craving release. 

 With his sucking counterpoint to the gentle thrusts of his hips, Elliot's
mind ran through a silent litany of curse words - eyes screwed up tight,
he was stunned that he could feel another orgasm gathering so quickly.

 He began to suckle hard on Toby, instinct taking over as techniques he
had thought long-forgotten came tumbling out of him. He pulled his head
back and used his tongue in ways that he remembered well. He wrapped both
hands around Toby's ass and pulled him close, encouraging the thrusts,
welcoming the intrusion into his body. He used a thumb to stroke the silky
path between Toby's balls and ass.

 Toby whined, a thin, needy noise that squeezed put of his throat to
vibrate around the hard cock in his mouth. The way Elliot was pulling at
his body - as if he couldn't get him in deep enough, was so fucking sexy
it took his breath away. More than the act itself, it was the fact of
*who* was between his legs that was picking at the edges of his control,
unravelling it like a cheap sweater. Stabler's strong fingers dug into his
ass cheeks, flexing and kneading. Toby gasped, his breathing coming in
short, heated bursts through his nose.

 Elliot felt the sharp gusts of breath on his balls - felt, more than
heard the whining in Toby's throat and knew the other man's control was
wavering. He felt a quiet triumph; he would not be the first to come this
time. He grasped Toby's ass harder, took a breath and opened his throat,
swallowing hard several times in a way that he had been taught half a
lifetime ago.

 Toby was helpless as Elliot pulled him in close and took his cock right
to the back of his throat. The erotic shock pulled loose the last errant
threads of control and his orgasm swept over him in an uncontrollable,
butt-clenching yet delicious rush. His body convulsed, spurting.

 Elliot felt it the instant Toby lost control, and mentally grinned. He
could feel the muscles in the man's ass flex as his body trembled, tensed
and relaxed. His objective reached, he let his own control slip back a
notch, allowing himself to savor the heat of Toby's mouth, the feel of
fingers working his own ass. He thrust into the wet heat a couple more
times and let the hot pleasure take him to a gentle, shuddering orgasm.

 The lights behind Toby's eyelids faded. He let Elliot's softening cock
slip from between his lips. "Jesus Christ," he breathed. He sat up
unsteadily on one elbow and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

 With his head still lying on Toby's thigh, Stabler stared up with a smug
grin on his face. 

 Toby mock-glared. "What?"

 "Who's the boss, now?" Elliot asked lazily.

 Toby muttered to himself, making a big production of turning around to
lie beside Elliot. He settled himself and regarded the other man with
baleful eyes. "If I wasn't so fucking wiped out I'd teach you another
thing or two about being bossy, Mr. Detective."

 "I'm a patient man, I can wait."

 "Well, you're gonna have to. I don't have another round in me tonight."

 "You sure? Coz I think I could-"

 "Oh, fuck off - you could not!"

 Elliot chuckled. "Nah. You're right." He smiled. "But I'd like to give
three a go, some day." 

 Toby placed a hand on the large chest. "Yeah. Me too."

 Elliot stared into the cool blue eyes as he ran his tongue over his
teeth. He could still taste what they had just done. He lay still with
Toby's hand on his chest, examining how he felt about that - about
himself. He was glad to find no great change in his opinion of himself. He
was single, he was an adult, and he was content. He smiled.

 They lay quietly in the rumpled sheets, just looking at one another,
smiling - something that Elliot would have scorned had anyone had
suggested it before now. Even during the good times, he didn't recall ever
lying in bed staring goofily at Kathy. And that saddened him. 

 Toby watched Elliot's face change. He would never have guessed the face
of such an apparently taciturn man could display his emotions so openly.
He brushed a thumb over a nipple. 

 "Can I ask you something?" he said quietly.

 Elliot's expression cleared. He nodded. "Sure."

 Toby chose his words carefully. "Sometimes, I see this look on your face
and I wonder what you're thinking. I mean, I don't want to pry, or
anything, but-" He smiled and shrugged. "Oh, hell, yeah, fuck it. I do
wanna pry. You look so-" He hesitated, wary.

 "So, what?"

 Toby stroked his nipple again. "Sad, Elliot. Or disappointed, maybe?"

 Elliot said nothing. His eyes darted back and forth under a creased brow.
"I didn't realize," he said eventually.

 "I just wondered, you know; what makes you like that. Is it this? You
regret this?"

 "No." Elliot shook his head, frowning. "Not this-" He pursed his lips and
thought. Sad and disappointed? The words echoed in his mind. Had he been?
*Was* he? He wasn't sure, or even what to make of Toby's comment. It was a
hell of a thing to get thrown at you out of the blue.

 "I don't know," he said. "I guess everyone gets like that sometimes."

 Toby just looked at him and Elliot smiled at his expression. "Oh, I see.
More than just 'sometimes'?"

 "You could say that. It's a little disconcerting."

 "And it's more than a little disconcerting to be told you're borderline
depressive."

 "I didn't say that. I just thought you might like to share."

 Sighing, Elliot stared up at the ceiling in silence. 

 "You don't like to talk about yourself, do you?"

 Elliot cut him a sideways glance. "You analysing me?"

 Toby held up a hand. "Wouldn't dare, man. You're the boss."

 Elliot grunted. "Yeah, like I believe that." He turned the words Toby had
used to describe him over and over in his mind, feeling a sting as if they
were coated in broken glass. He winced. The disappointment was an easy
one. Firstly from his father, then latterly; his wife. Probably his kids
too, in some way. His job, a lot of the time, and worst of all, in
*himself* for not being the son and husband he set out to be. The list was
long and painful.

 "Things didn't turn out the way I hoped," he said by way of explanation.
"You know? In my life."

 Toby leaned in and kissed him. "Yep, that sounds like life, all right."
He rubbed his nose on Elliot's cheek. 

 Elliot smiled a small smile. "I'm kinda hoping things are gonna change."

 Toby grinned. "Oh, I can guarantee that - and it's gonna be in a *good*
way, Detective Stabler." He dipped in for a long, wet kiss. "Besides," he
said, licking Elliot's bottom lip. "I want to find out all the things you
learned from your Marine buddy."

 He felt his smile slip away when he saw the expression that flooded
Elliot's face. That was definitely one of his 'buttons' Taking the strong
chin in his hand, he gently shook it. "There. That's it. *That's* the look
I'm talking about." Elliot pulled his face away. Toby grabbed the chin
again and pulled it around to look straight in Elliot's eyes. "Tell me." 

 "It's nothing." 

 "Liar."

 To Toby's relief, Elliot looked more amused than pissed. 

 Toby stroked his thumb along Elliot's jaw-line. "Did he hurt you?" he
asked.

 Elliot winced as if rabbit-punched. "Jesus, Toby." He turned away and
rubbed his face with a hand. 

 "I take it that's a 'yes'."

 "Fuck," Elliot muttered. "Does it matter?"

 "You tell me."

 Elliot glanced at Toby, not wanting to elaborate. He looked at the set of
the other man's jaw, the studied patience as he lay there waiting for an
answer. Well, he could just lie there and wait. He wasn't going to explain
anything to this man - it was none of his business; they'd only known each
other five minutes. 

 "Elliot?"

 Elliot screwed his face up and sighed. It was like being in bed with a
Jack Russell terrier. Fucking relentless. How could he begin to explain
stuff he could never have talked to Kathy about? Stuff that he hadn't even
discussed with *himself*? He stared into blue eyes, determined to remain
defiantly silent. This was no-ones business but his - besides, it was
ancient history. 

 "I hated him," he said at last, surprising himself.

 Chapter twenty one

 "But I thought-" Toby began to say.

 "I guess I loved him too, a little," Elliot said, cutting in. "In a funny
kinda way. He did things to me that-" He closed his eyes. 

 "He abused you?" Toby felt his stomach clench.

 "No." Elliot shook his head, his eyes still shut. "Nothing like that. It
was consensual." He gave a short laugh that sounded entirely humourless,
even to his ears. "Well, eventually."

 "Christ, Elliot." 

 Turning his head, Elliot cracked open an eye. "Don't. Don't you dare
think that. He never forced me; it wasn't like that at all. Hell, I work
in sex crimes every day, Toby - I know the criteria for abuse and this
doesn't apply. Not even close." He scrubbed his hand over his eyes to
clear away the sand and smoke. "I wasn't some defenceless little kid, I
coulda stopped him any time. I just-" He swallowed and his voice slipped
into a whisper. "I just didn't want to."

 Toby waited to see if anything else was coming. After waiting through a
long silence, he spoke. "How old were you?"

 Elliot closed his eyes again. "Old enough to know better. And young
enough to spend the last twenty years hating him for what he did - for
creating this - this *need* in me." The dust and heat from twenty-odd
years ago scratched the back of his eyelids. He rubbed them harshly,
welcoming the pain. 

 Toby said nothing, just placed his hand in the middle of Elliot's chest
and left it there, motionless.

 Keeping his eyes tightly shut, Elliot spoke quickly, the words tumbling
out of him without consideration, without thought or censure. "What Digger
showed me - what he did, was so outside my experience it fuckin' blew me
away. He was older than me and I didn't have the guts to stop him at
first, and by the time I did, I'd well, gotten to like it, I guess." He
frowned. "I mean, some of it was pretty rough, but mostly it was good.
*It* was good. The sex, I mean. He wasn't so big on the other stuff,
though, like kissing. He didn't ever kiss me, but that was okay. I guess
it helped me shut it away, keep it apart and make it separate from what me
and Kathy did. When I came back it was like it'd happened to someone else;
no-one could see I was any different, and I told myself I wasn't, either.
I never told her - 'course I never told her. She would have flipped." He
gave another bark of mirthless laughter. "Everyone would have flipped.
Hell, *I* fuckin' flipped. Guess that's why I got her knocked up. To prove
something to everyone. To myself." 

 He covered his face with his arm and groaned. "Oh, fuck."

 "Hey-" Toby reached over and wrapped himself around Elliot's body, trying
to hold as much as possible. "It's okay," he muttered, stroking the dark
hair. He lay there, silently. He didn't need to have a psychology degree
to know Elliot was absolutely mortified for revealing so much of himself. 

 "Maureen wasn't a mistake. None of my kids are," Elliot muttered angrily
from under his arm.

 "I know."

 "Marrying Kathy was the mistake." The words shocked Elliot to silence.
He'd teased the thought around in the private corners of his mind, but
never before pinned it down and vocalized it. He clamped his mouth shut.

 Toby stayed resolutely silent. There were a lot of things he would like
to say to try and comfort Elliot, but he wasn't stupid enough to try and
shrink a man lying in his bed.

 "Fuck." 

 They'd been lying wrapped up together in silence for so long Toby
wondered if he'd actually heard the word at all. He peered at the face in
the crook of his neck. "Hey, there."

 Elliot's eyes opened a slit. "You still here?" he said.

 Toby laughed. "Looks like." He gave a squeeze. "Can't scare me off that
easily. Besides, I live here." He had decided around half an hour ago that
he was going to play things light when Elliot decided to surface. He'd bet
his left nut that the other man would be just crucified with
embarrassment.

 "I, er..." Elliot scratched the side of his nose, feeling awkward.

 "Shut up." Toby untangled himself from Elliot's limbs.

 "What?" 

 "Shut up. Whatever feeble apology you think you owe me, forget it."

 Elliot pulled himself up a little and peered at Toby as if he were
deranged. "Who said I was gonna apologize?"

 Toby shrugged, snuggling back under the covers. "You were, weren't you?"

 Elliot pooched out his lower lip. "No."

 "Liar." Toby smiled.

 "You keep calling me that."

 "I keep calling you gorgeous, too, but I don't hear you complaining 'bout
that." He crooked a finger. "C'mere."

 "Why?"

 Toby rolled his eyes. "I want to kiss you goodnight, you awkward son of a
bitch."

 Elliot regarded him with suspicion. He was waiting for the in-depth
analysis of what he'd just revealed. The guy taught shrinking. He *must*
have reams to say about this.

 "C'mere, Stabler!" Toby reached over and grabbed the other man by the
shoulder, pulling him in. Toby grinned and placed a kiss on the end of the
Roman nose. "There y'go. How hard was that?"

 Elliot lay nose-to-nose with him on the same pillow. He narrowed his
eyes. "Is that it?"

 "Yep."

 Elliot was confused. The other man wasn't asking questions, wasn't
offering advice or platitudes - nothing. He busied himself by squirming
around, getting comfy, thinking about what that meant. 

 "Settled?"

 Elliot nodded. "Uh-huh." He lay still, watching Toby in the dark,
waiting. He waited a long time. His eyes began to droop. Blinks became
longer and longer. He felt his body slide into repose as he allowed his
muscles to relax. He fought the pull of sleep and opened his eyes. Toby
was looking at him. He opened his mouth to speak.

 "It's okay; I understand." Toby said very softly. "We don't need to talk
about it."

 "I didn't mean to dump that on you," he said, regardless.

 "You didn't."

 Elliot nodded very slightly, finally understanding. "Thanks."

 "You're welcome."

 Elliot grinned. "I mean, thanks for not shrinking me."

 "Who, me?" Toby smiled back.

 "Yeah, you," Elliot growled.

 Toby's eyebrows rose. "You don't like shrinks. I get it. But over the
next hundred years or so, when I slip up and tell you why you're doing
something, don't freak out on me. It's my job - I can't help it. Just like
getting shot at is yours."

 "I'll try not to do that too often."

 "I'd be grateful," Toby smiled. "I'd kinda like to keep you around for a
while."

 "Well, promise not to shrink me, and I might stick around."

 "Deal." He wriggled his nose. "Maybe I shoulda been a lawyer, like my
dad."

 Elliot groaned and covered his face. "Oh, fuck, no! Then I'd *have* to
kill you."

 Toby sighed. "Lawyers, too?"

 Elliot shrugged. "Meh. Whatcha gonna do?"

 "I'm in bed with Mr. Intolerant. Great."

 Reaching to pull the other man closer, Elliot whispered in his ear.
"You're in bed with Mr. Sex-Machine, actually."

 Toby laughed. "Okay. I'll have to take your word for that."

 Elliot gave a low growl in the back of his throat, sounding like
something large and primal, and Toby felt goose bumps break out all over
his body. 

 "Oh, you are gonna be *so* sorry you made fun of me," Elliot breathed.

 Toby rubbed his ear and grinned. "Yeah?"

 "Oh, yeah," Elliot whispered, his eyes narrowed.

 "Good. I'll look forward to you correcting me." Toby leaned forward and
kissed him. "But in the meantime, sleep, Stabler. You need to gather your
strength."

 Elliot grumbled, but there was no conviction behind it. He yawned,
belatedly remembering to cover his mouth. "G'night," he said, sleepily,
rolling onto his back. He stretched up and relaxed, leaving one arm raised
above his head as he closed his eyes.

 Beside him, Toby chuckled softly. 

 Elliot cracked open an eye. "Now what?" 

 "Nothing."

 "Sounds like it. You know, a guy could get real offended when someone
laughs at them after sex."

 "I wasn't laughing *at* you."

 "I have a gun," he said pointedly.

 "I wasn't laughing at you," Toby assured him, placing a kiss on his
shoulder.

 "Then what?"

 "I just got the answer to a question that's been bugging me since the day
I first saw you."

 "Oh?" Elliot grinned sleepily. "You mean: 'How am I in bed?'"

 "Yeah, sort of. But not that, exactly." Toby ran a hand down a bicep.
"When I saw you in the Faculty room that first day, slumped on the chair
with your eyes closed, I bet myself that you'd look just like that after a
hard bout of love-making." He smiled. 

 Elliot smiled. "Thank you, but I'd hardly call that a 'hard bout'." He
felt a warm blush of pleasure that Toby had thought of him in those terms
so soon.

 "Maybe not - but it was love-making nevertheless."

 "I guess." Elliot tilted his head, smiling. "And? Do I look like you
imagined?"

 "Yep. You do. Just like some glorious, debouched, fallen angel."

 Elliot's smile broke into a laugh. "No-one's called me an angel since I
was about three and had a head of curls."

 Toby snickered and reached to run his fingers over the short hair. "Wow,
you know, somehow I can't picture that."

 "Fuck you," Elliot grumbled with a smile, pushing the hand away.
"Thinning hair is a sign of masculinity."

 "I can't argue with that," Toby said, lifting the cover and pretending to
peer down into the darkness.

 Elliot squashed the sheet down. "Stop it."

 "No, why should I? The view's incredible."

 Elliot groaned and rolled away. 

 Toby laughed and lifted the sheet again. "Hell, look at that; the view
just got better."

 "Go to sleep, Beecher."

 "Is that an order?"

 "No - a threat," Elliot growled.

 Toby laughed and dropped the sheet as he wriggled to fit himself behind
Elliot. He snuggled his legs up and looped an arm over the big chest. He
was inordinately pleased when Elliot took his wrist and tucked his hand
under his chin.

 "G'night, Stabler," Toby breathed, placing a soft kiss in the hairs on
the back of Elliot's neck.

 Elliot grunted an absent reply, already almost asleep. His last thoughts
were not of how bumpy this ride was going to be; or of how he was going to
explain this seemingly sudden and radical change of lifestyle to his
family and his colleagues, but rather ones of warmth, of peace, and a
contentment he hadn't felt for as long as he could remember.

 He sighed and pulled the wrist in his hand close to his lips and kissed
it as he finally let sleep take him.

 The end.

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