The two men stumbled past the back door of the Cock Pit club in a tangle of arms and legs, their slightly out of control giggling echoing through the moist air in the alley.

"Shhhhhhhh…. You're gonna disturb the neighbors!" The blond man put a clumsy finger up to his lips.

Pulling the hand away, the other man snorted and leaned in. "There ain't no neighbors, you dumb-ass; the place don't open til tonight. No-ones gonna bother us this early on."

He grabbed a handful of jacket and pulled the blond along the wall, shoving him against the brickwork.

Stepping close and pressing their bodies tight together, the darker man made full use of his extra weight, grinding his hips forward.

"Feel that?" he growled in a voice that was as hard as his erection. "Feel me?"

In lieu of replying, the blond grabbed the dark head and pulled him in for a kiss that was as wet and nasty as the alley floor.

They grappled with each other, vying for dominance, shoving and pressing against one another with carnal intent.

"God…" The blond gasped and pulled away, out of breath. His mouth glistened in the dim sunlight that bled between the buildings.

Between his legs, a hand grabbed and squeezed, pulling hard enough to make his hips jerk forward.

Grunting in time with his thrusts, the blond man spread his feet apart, his fingers frantic to unzip his jeans.

One foot refused to move to the side, something blocking its way. He looked down in frustration.

A single naked foot was poking out from under the fire escape, the toes pressed up against the edge of his boot, curled slightly and shockingly vulnerable in the morning light.

"The victim was strangled with what looks to be a surgically-sharpened knife."

The ME lifted the victims head, causing it to tilt sickeningly over to one side.

"As you can see, it has almost totally severed the flesh clean through to the spinal cord."

Fin winced, his eyes sliding away from the gaping wound. Beside him, Munch kept his eyes locked on the worn brick work. His imagination already had a lifetime of horrific images tucked away; he didn't need any more to keep him awake nights.

The ME gently laid the head back down. "Poor baby never stood a chance. The severity of the wound tells me he'd have bled out in less than a minute." She sighed. "Hopefully he was unconscious by the time that happened."

"I don't think I want to know why you said that," Munch muttered, letting his gaze wander upwards.

"Well, seeing as you asked…" The ME smiled sadly and pulled the sheet down. "

Munch heard Fin swear quietly and promised himself he wasn't going to look, no matter what she said.

"The perp took his time, no sign of any clothes; but the extent and severity of the tissue damage suggests this attack took place over an extended period of time." She nudged a thigh aside. "You can see here that the trauma to the genitalia alone…"

Munch groaned slightly and stepped back, cursing himself for breaking his internal promise.

Fin glanced at him. "You okay?"

Munch nodded. "Yeah," he lied, swallowing spit and breathing deeply. "Absolutely fine," he added with a touch of his usual dry sarcasm.

"As I was saying, the whole area has been excised, cleanly in one area, not so much in the other. The perp was either in a rush, or over excited toward the end."

Munch gazed up, counting the bricks, his hands clenched in his pockets.

"Any sign of the…" He cleared his throat. "Of the removed items?"

"I'm afraid so. Look here."

Munch reluctantly looked down, trying not to stare full-on at the corpse.

The ME pulled gently on the victim's jaw, rigor making her fingers strain. With a vague creak that went straight to Munch's breakfast, the jaw dropped open to reveal the missing items.

"Sweet Lord," he whispered, looking away.

"Damn…"

Beside him, Fin straightened up and shoved his hands in his pockets. He frowned, deep in thought.

"What?" Munch took the opportunity to turn away from the scene.

"What are you thinking about? I mean besides how utterly nasty this is?"

Fin didn't bother to reply, just stood there, his expression grim.

"Tutuola?" Munch clicked his fingers under Fin's nose. "Come in, Tutuola. Earth calling."

Fin batted his hand away. "Quit it."

"Then talk to me."

"There's somethin' I need to check out back at the House."

"What is it?"

Fin began to walk away. "I'll let you know when I know."

Munch sighed, watching his partner stride away. He glanced down at the ME. "Anything else I need to know in order to inform my preoccupied partner at a later date?"

"Nope." The ME stood up. I'll get the bloods and tox to you asap." She nodded to the CSIs. "If we're lucky, there'll be trace evidence left. Maybe he got careless while he was getting busy."

Munch regarded her over his glasses. "You think so?"

"No." She smiled sadly. ""Not really, but it'd be nice to nail him sooner rather than later, before he escalates further."

Munch gave her a disbelieving look. "Further?"

"This isn't rage," she told him, looking back to where the CSIs were photographing the body from all angles. "This looks more like cool, calculated mutilation."

SVU Squad Room
16^th Precinct

"You mind telling me what's the big mystery?" Munch tossed his coat on the back of the chair. "Although far be it for me to interrupt the thought-process of a genius…" He winked at Olivia and Elliot, sitting trapped behind a mountain of paperwork.

Fin walked over to him, a wad of paper in his hand. "Just shut up and look at this." He threw the papers down on the desk and began to spread them out.

Munch leaned in.

"You recognize these?"

John gave him a look. "Is this a feeble attempt to be amusing?"

"Apart from the obvious connection to this case, I mean." Fin sorted out four mug shots, pushing them to one side. "Look closely."

Munch peered, an expression of distaste crossing his face. "Well, aside from feeding my insomnia for the foreseeable future, I fail to see what I've gained by looking at these poor individuals again."

Fin sighed. "We know these cases are linked, yeah?"

"Yes," Munch said slowly. "Again with the obvious."

"Well, can't you see it?"

Munch glanced down. "Umm…" He shook his head. "All found outside a variety of gay clubs, all very dead and none with any clue so far as to the perp." He peered at Fin "You want to let me in on the secret?"

"You really don't see it?" He tapped the nearest picture. "*Look* at them, man."

Munch sighed and looked back at the pictures. He slowly studied each one, comparing them. "Nope."

Fin looked over the squad room. "Jeez… Hey, Olivia… C'mere will ya?"

Glancing up from her paperwork, Olivia stretched and threw her pen down. She and Elliot exchanged glances. She shrugged and pushed her chair back. "Sure. What y'got?"

"Look at the vics in our case. Tell me what you see."

Pulling the post-mortem pictures towards her, Olivia didn't allow emotion to color her expression. She laid the pictures side by side, studying them. Eventually, she nodded and looked up at Fin. "Wow."

"Yeah." Fin nodded at her. "That's what I thought."

She looked behind her to where Elliot sat frowning over a sheet of triplicate.

"You see it, don't you? It's not just me?"

"Creepy," she agreed.

"What?" Munch looked from her to the pictures. "What?"

Olivia turned the pictures to face Munch, tapped each on in turn, then looked back to her partner. "Snap," she said softly.

Fin nodded. "Yeah. Let him take a look."

"Hey, El… Take a look at this."

"Uh-huh." Crossing something out on his page, Elliot dropped the pen and wandered over. "What's up?"

Olivia handed him the four pictures. "What do you see?"

Frowning at the images, Elliot studied them carefully. Eventually he placed them down on the table. "Similarities in all victims' deaths; M.O., age, race, yada, yada." He looked at his partner and shrugged. "There somethin' else I'm missing?"

Munch clucked. "Told you so."

Fin pushed a hand between Olivia and Elliot. "Look; don't you see it? Don't you think they all kinda look familiar? Kinda like *you*?"

Elliot looked from picture to picture, a frown creasing his forehead.

"I dunno," he said eventually. "Maybe; a little."

Fin tapped the nearest photograph. "It's *you*, man. A little more hair, in some cases …" He grinned. "But you gotta see it. It's downright weird."

Elliot winced and looked back down. He moved the photographs with one finger. "Well, there's a certain basic similarity, I guess…."

Fin shook his head "Man, these guys could be your brothers."

Elliot looked up. "That's not even remotely funny."

Fin held up his hand. "Hey… No offense, I just say it like I see it. These guys are swimmin' in the same gene pool as you, man."

Elliot blinked. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You know - they're all the same physical type. White, dark, late thirties, early forties."

"He's right. El." Olivia picked up a picture. "This one even has your build."

"You're not saying some dirtbag is targeting me?"

"No, 'course not." Fin poked a picture. "But you might be just the break we need to get this guy." He stared at Elliot.

Elliot looked at him, eyes wide. "You're not suggesting…"

"Makes sense." Fin shrugged. "If the Cap'n okays it, then we might get a jump on the creep."

"You mean…?"

Fin nodded. "Put you undercover in a coupla gay clubs; see what happens."

Elliot's expression was one of utter amazement. "Since when did I come across as gay?"

Olivia picked up a couple of photographs. "Who's to say he came across as 'gay'? Or him?"

Elliot looked at the pictures, at Fin, Olivia, then sighed. "Point taken." He scratched his neck and sighed. "Okay; I'll do it."

"Good man." Fin gathered up the photographs and jerked his head. "Let's go run this by the Cap'n."

"I don't like it," Olivia paced back and forth in the Captain's office.

"What's your problem?" Fin jerked his chin up. "He's gonna have back-up. Not like we're hangin' him out to dry or lettin' him run this alone."

Olivia scowled. "Yes, but…"

"You're just pissed coz you ain't gonna be in on the deal," Fin muttered.

"No, that's not it."

"Are you telling us you're not even just a teensy-little bit miffed?" Munch held two fingers slightly apart. "Not even this much because you won't get to actually *see* Elliot in action in a gay club?"

There was a grunt from Elliot at that comment.

Olivia fought to keep the smile from her face. "What kind of person d'you take me for?" She held up a hand and shook her head. "No, don't answer that. I'm just not happy with my partner being used as bait."

"'Bait' is a bit alarmist, isn't it?" Cragen said with a wince.

"You define it any way, he's got a hook in his ass." Olivia threw back at him. They glared at one another.

A knock at the door stalled the argument. They all turned as Huang entered.

"You asked for me?" He smiled at Cragen, nodding a greeting at the others.

"Yes, George – please come in." Slipping through the door, Huang pulled up the last free chair and sat down.

"I asked the Doctor to study the case notes that we have so far and share his thoughts with us. Please; anything you have."

Huang cleared his throat. "Well, I think you've all got a pretty good idea about what we're dealing with here."

"Serial," Fin stated.

"Yes, and escalating. The manner of the killings and the severity of the wounds indicate this man is becoming more proficient."

"Not more angry?" Munch asked.

"No." Huang shook his head. "I'd say more controlled, more determined. You saw yourself how he took the time to remove the last victim's clothing before torturing and mutilating him. That tells me he is confident and secure in his power. There has to be a reason for the victim to submit to being undressed."

"Maybe he thought it was part of the 'date'." Munch shrugged as Fin looked at him in disbelief. "You don't know what transpired between them in that club. Things happen."

"True enough," Huang agreed. "But then again, it takes some mighty big persuasion to get your date to take *all* his clothes off in a dark alleyway, don't you think?"

"Could it have been done post-mortem?" Olivia asked.

"Maybe. But I also think some sort of coercion with a weapon is more likely in the latter part of the incident."

"Perp gets a knife out instead of his johnson," Elliot muttered, leaning one hip on Cragen's desk. "Nice date."

He saw the look Olivia gave him and raised his eyebrows innocently.

"And you're going to agree to put yourself on the line to get this guy?" she threw at him, her eyes flashing in anger.

"Looks like," he agreed.

Olivia shook her head. "There has to be some other way."

Elliot jerked his chin at her. "Yeah? Well go ahead, I'm all ears."

"Unfortunately, I think your plan of action is valid, if somewhat dangerous." Huang looked Stabler up and down. "This man is obviously both attracted and angered by men of Elliot's appearance."

"Sounds too dangerous, if you ask me." Olivia frowned.

Fin tossed a pen down on the desk and leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, like the man said - dangerous. Much as I'd rather go in there myself, I don't think I'm this scumbag's type." He looked over at his partner. "An' let's be real - he ain't *anyone's* type."

Munch raised an eyebrow. "Remind me again which one of us has been married several times over?"

"With the emphasis on 'several'." Fin wrinkled his nose.

"People…" Cragen held up a hand. "Can we focus? Olivia – what is your objection, exactly?"

Sighing, she dropped down into her chair. "Oh, I don't know. It just feels wrong, somehow."

"Well, I can't say I much like the whole thing, either." Cragen looked at the pictures.

Elliot unfolded his arms and shrugged. "I'm not exactly jumping for joy, but you gotta admit it's a pretty amazing chance."

"Chance to get you killed."

Elliot smiled slightly at his boss. "Yeah. The thought did cross my mind; but I'm gonna have back-up, and I have the advantage of being a cop."

Cragen stared at him. "You think that'll be enough, when it all comes down it?"

Elliot shrugged. "Guess it'll have to do. At least I'm gonna be on the alert – not like those poor guys. This is what I'm trained for, Captain." He pointed at the photographs. "It's my job to catch the man who does things like this." He looked at Olivia. "It's *all* our jobs."

They stared at one another for long moments, the silent argument tossed back and forth between them, until at last, Olivia sighed and looked away.

"Sure. I guess so," she conceded. Elliot nodded silently when she looked at him.

Fin rapped his knuckles against the chair. "Okay. Cool; so let's get it on."

"What do you need?" Cragen asked, acquiescing without voicing any more concerns.

"Just your okay for Olivia to be back-up, and me and John to work a big helping of overtime," Fin told him.

"Wires?"

Fin shook his head. "Maybe for one of us, but I don’t think Elliot should have one; it'd be too easy to spot. If we're gonna be in the club too, we don't have to worry about him being outta sight. All he has to do is make sure he stays in view."

"Better make sure you don't need to use the facilities, then," Munch added with a smirk.

Elliot gave a wry grin. "Don't think I'm gonna be in a rush to use the bathroom in a gay club."

"Don't be judgemental," Munch wagged a finger. "I'm sure nothing untoward happens in those places."

"You'd know, huh?"

Munch just looked at him without expression. "I might." He looked sideways. "But then I believe it's Detective Tutuola that 'knows stuff'."

Fin bristled and opened his mouth to speak.

A pen tapped the desk briskly. "Can we keep in mind the seriousness of the situation, people?" Cragen gave them a stern look.

Fin gave Munch a raised eyebrow, but closed his mouth.

"So. Olivia, you'll set up in a car nearby, wired to either Fin or Munch. Elliot; you're the mark. Get inside, be visible; get your face seen. That's the key."

"We might need to do this over a coupla nights," Fin said. "Can't be sure the perp's gonna be active so soon after a kill." He glanced at Huang. "You think?"

"I think that judging from the previous crimes, you have a window of a couple of nights. Three, at the most. He'll still be in a state of euphoria from the last kill. That rush won't take very long to wear off." He smiled. "You have time to get in role, Detective."

Elliot grunted and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I guess." He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Guess I have some thinking to do."

Munch chuckled. "Better get yourself down to the video store. Rent 'The Birdcage'."

Elliot looked at him, blankly.

Munch rolled his eyes. "Pricilla, Queen of the Desert?...Jeffrey?..." He sighed at the look of non-comprehension. "Oh dear. This is going to be a challenge."

Fin sucked his teeth in derision. "Don't listen to him, man. He's yankin' your chain."

"I'm not following." Elliot narrowed his eyes. "There are videos of this stuff?"

"I don't think you need to go as far as to rent any popular interpretations of the ideological 'gay' lifestyle, Detective."

Huang smiled indulgently at Munch. "I suggest you just behave naturally and relax."

Munch snickered quietly.

"By which I mean," Huang added, the epitome of patience. "Is that you don't behave any differently to how you would in any other club."

Elliot huffed a breath. "I'm not what you'd call a real keen club-goer.

"You'll be fine, I'm sure," Huang said.

"Yeah," Elliot nodded, his expression saying just the opposite.

"All you gotta do is dig the sounds, chill and look pretty," Fin grinned.

Elliot squinted across the room.

"Well, the skel ain't choosin' his vics for the quality of their conversation."

"He might," Elliot shrugged.

"Nope. You can't hear nothin' in a club." He waved a hand over his head. "Sounds way up. All you got is your face an' your moves on the dance floor."

Elliot looked pained. "Oh," he said in a quiet voice.

Fin stared at him. "You *do* know how to dance?"

Munch chuckled. "He's a white man of middle years. Of course he doesn't dance."

"Hey…" Elliot bristled.

"Oh, my God…" Fin rubbed his face.

Cragen cleared his throat and gathered the papers on his desk. "Well, in that case, you have two days grace, Detective. I suggest you learn."

"I told you a million times already, Dickie - just take the trash out, will you?" Elliot pointed at the tightly tied bag in the corner of the kitchen.

"But it's Lizzie's turn!"

"No, it's not! I did it last time!" An indignant voice called through from the living room.

Elliot sighed and mentally counted to twenty. "Look, just do as I ask, okay?"

"It's not fair!"

Elliot put the last of the drying away. "Yeah? Get over it while you walk to the garbage can."

He heard the exaggerated sigh and the sound of a bag being picked up as his son obeyed him with very bad grace.

"Don't slam the…." The door banged closed. Elliot closed his eyes. "Shit," he whispered to himself.

A hand rubbed the middle of his back, scratching between his shoulder blades. "Hey."

He turned his head. "Hey," he said, smiling at Maureen. "You didn't hear that, huh?"

She smiled back. "Not a thing."

"Good." He turned around. "I have a reputation to think of."

She winked at him. "Better make sure I don't tell anyone my dad said 'shit', then."

His smile widened into a grin. "You…" The dishcloth in his hand flicked out to snap at her leg.

She skipped backwards. "Hey! That's what I get for loyalty?"

"No, that's what you get for threatening to snitch on your poor old dad."

"Get over it while you collect your social security," she teased, squealing as he charged at her, chasing her out of the kitchen.

She almost made it to the door before Elliot tackled her around the waist and threw them both on the sofa, tickling her sides.

"Little minx!" he scolded, digging his fingers in.

"Nooo!!!" Maureen squealed, Elliot wincing at the volume. "Stoppit!"

Elliot laughed at her helpless struggles. "Who's the boss, huh? Who's the boss?!" Maureen howled with laughter into the sofa.

He saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye, and had a split second to brace himself before a body landed on his back.

"See how you like it!" Lizzie giggled in triumph, squirreling her fingers into her father's sides. Ticklishness was an unfortunate family trait, and Elliot yelled, all thoughts of torturing his eldest fleeing from his mind.

"No!" he gasped under the relentless onslaught. "Liz… Stop…"

"Quit goosing Maur!" She demanded, mercilessly attacking his ribs, his hands flapping behind, trying to dislodge her. "Give it up!"

Grunting, Elliot struggled to turn over, laughing and scowling in equal measure. "Gettoffa me," he growled, trying for a stern tone of voice.

"No way." Lizzie grabbed his hip bones and dug her fingers in with the remorselessness of youth.

Squirming out from underneath her father's body, Maureen pulled his ear. "Bully," she teased without malice. "Enjoy getting yours." She laughed as Lizzie made him yelp loudly.

"You little…." Her father tried one last bid for freedom, grabbing both Lizzie's hands in his, nearly pulling her from her perch.

Lizzie squirmed. "Maur!

Leaning down, Maureen tugged on her father's ear a couple of times, then poked a finger into the nearest armpit. "Give it up, old man," she said, grinning down as he yelled out. "Before you wet your pants."

With a last cry of defeat, Elliot released Lizzie and flopped back on the couch. "Okay…" he groaned. "I give up. You win. God…" He closed his eyes as the fingers left his body. "You two are so tough on me."

"Ahhh. Poor baby." Maureen rubbed the top of his head.

Lizzie scrambled down and bounced into the middle of the room.

"Yeah! I win!!" She began a victory jig.

Laughing, Maureen joined her and they danced around the coffee table, clapping hands.

Tangled up in the sofa cushions and dishtowel, Elliot smiled, watching them prance. Slowly, a thought formed and he sat up, pulling his shirt back down, a frown creasing his forehead.

"Hey, you guys." He tossed the towel on the sofa and stood up. "You dance pretty good. How 'bout you show me how?"

Both girls stopped dancing and turned to look at him.

"What did you say?" asked Maureen, her face incredulous.

"Me. Dance." He shrugged. "I wanna learn"

The girls exchanged a glance. "You're kidding, right?" Lizzie asked.

"I've never, ever seen you dance."

"Get out – I have."

"When?"

"Well, y'know, weddings and stuff."

"I don't remember," Lizzie said firmly.

Elliot sighed. "Hey, give me a break." He walked over to the stereo and flicked a switch, filling the room with rock music. "Just show me."

"Dad…"

"C'mon, How hard can it be?" He did a little jiggle.

"Dad!" Lizzie burst out laughing.

"What?" He jiggled again. "Do I have it?"

"No way!" Maureen laughed. "What's that supposed to be?"

"What?" Elliot replied, grinning. "You don't like my moves?"

"You look like you need to go to the bathroom," Lizzie laughed.

The two girls stood watching for a moment, then with an exaggerated sigh, Maureen pushed the coffee table aside and took hold of her father's hand.

"Stop that, for the love of God."

"No good, then?" He stood looking at her.

She stared back, slowly shaking her head. "No," she told him sadly.

"Then show me."

"You really mean it, don't you? You're not kidding."

Elliot grinned and did a little shimmy.

Maureen held up her hand. "Okay, just stop that now." Running her fingers through her hair, she sighed.

"C'mon; teach me."

"Are you totally sure you want to do this?"

"Uh-huh."

"Old people don't dance," Lizzie told him, perching on the arm of the sofa.

"You think?" Elliot said, hands on hips. "Well, we'll just see, won't we? And get off the arm of the chair."

"Hush, and come here." Maureen took his hand and pulled him to the middle of the room. "Okay. Let's go. Dance."

Elliot began to move his feet, looking down as he stepped side to side in the awkwardly classic 'Prom-Night' shuffle.

"Oh god…" Maureen muttered, rolling her eyes.

Lizzie snickered with laughter. "I told you so," she said. "No-one dances like that any more." Jumping down off the sofa she took the floor and began to move to the beat of the music, raising her arms up and wriggling her hips to the beat. "Like this."

Elliot watched her dance, hoping his face wasn't betraying his feelings at seeing his youngest daughter dancing like Madonna on crack.

"Try it like this, okay?"

"What, you mean with half my body showing?" He reached over and tugged her sweater down.

"Dad!"

Elliot shook his head as she danced out of reach, hips sashaying suggestively. "Man… I feel old," he muttered.

"You *are* old," Maureen told him, turning him around to face her. "Now; relax and follow my lead." She moved slowly from side to side, her hands swaying in counterpoint to her body. "Like this."

Elliot watched for a moment, then copied her, trying to keep in time.

"This okay?" he asked.

"Not too bad." She took his wrists and shook his arms. "Just relax a bit, huh? You're as stiff as a board."

He frowned and tried to consciously relax his body. It was harder than it looked.

"Okay, now try doing it without staring at your feet." She poked him under his chin, forcing him to look up. She grinned. "And put your tongue away."

Elliot smiled and shook his head.

Maureen laughed gently. "You look about four years old with it stuck out like that."

"Yeah, yeah." He replied absently; he couldn't maintain any kind of gracefulness without looking down.

"Concentrate," she told him, as he lost his rhythm.

"I am."

By the time the third track began to play, they had begun to move around the room as Elliot became more confident.

"That's real good, Dad. Now let's see what you can do with your arms." She clicked her fingers in time to the beat and brought them up to shoulder-level, her hip movement more exaggerated.

"Oh, boy…" Elliot tried to follow suit.

"Tongue," Lizzie told him with a laugh.

"Hush," Elliot replied, feeling himself blush. "I'm concentrating."

"We can all see that."

"Leave him alone, Liz, he's doing okay." Maureen moved to his side. "Not bad, now, altogether - bumps-daisy!" she laughed, gently bumping her hip against his.

Elliot laughed and did it back. He was starting to enjoy himself, and consequently starting to relax.

The music changed, stepping up a beat.

"Yeah!" Maureen got into the groove and clapped her hands over her head. "C'mon, Dad! Feel the rhythm! Get with the beat!"

Copying her, he began to loosen up even more; arms raised and hips bopping from side to side. Even his feet had begun to do as they were told.

"Yeah!" Lizzie jumped down from the sofa, squeezed between the two of them, joining in. "Go Dad!"

Elliot laughed. All of a sudden, this was fun. His embarrassment had disappeared, he could feel the beat of the music calling to him, and his body answered.

"Stand back!" he called out, holding his hand out to Maureen.

She took it and he twirled her around 50's jive style. "Look at that! The girl's a natural!"

Maureen twirled back and took him in a classic dance hold and they danced together with an exaggerated but co-ordinated ballroom style.

"Great job, Dad!" she laughed, dipping, then spinning away. "Go for it!"

Totally lost in the moment, Elliot began to let rip, his arms snaking from side to side, his ass shaking and shimmying.

"Oh, my God…" In the doorway, Dickie stared in horror, a glass of milk in hand. "Is he having a fit?"

"I'm dancing!" Elliot yelled, still going for it in a big way.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that." Dickie shook his head and went into his room, slamming the door.

"Don't listen to him, Daddy." Kathleen stood in the kitchen doorway. "I think you're doing great."

Elliot grinned, gradually slowing down. He was starting to get out of breath. "Y'think so?"

"Yeah. Real hot mover." She smiled as she went back into the kitchen.

Elliot faltered and stopped. He looked back at the other two, then walked over to the stereo. He turned the music down.

"Aw, c'mon, Dad." Lizzie bounced up and down. "Again!"

Running his hand over his face, Elliot shook his head. "Nah. I'm beat. Lesson over for today."

"Suit yourself." Taking a leap over the coffee table, she followed her brother into the bedroom, also slamming the door.

He sighed. "Jeez… doesn't anyone just 'close' a door any more?"

"It's a generation thing," Maureen said, flopping down on the sofa. "I blame the parents."

Elliot smiled. "I bet you do." He sat down next to her. "Thanks, babe." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I appreciate your helping an old man."

Maureen looked at him for a long minute, her eyes narrowing. "So… You want to tell me what all that was about?"

"What d'you mean?"

She waved her hand. "This. Dancing. You never expressed an interest, before."

Elliot shrugged. "Just felt like it, I guess."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Is that okay?" he teased. She stared at him long enough to make him uncomfortable. "What?"

"Are you seeing someone?" she asked.

Elliot's eyes widened. "What!?"

"You know, as in dating."

"No! Of course not!"

"No need to get defensive. You are a free man, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I noticed," Elliot muttered. "But no, I'm not seeing anyone." He shook his head. "Man, why d'you think that?"

She shrugged. "Why else would you need to learn to dance? I just thought…"

"I'm not dating, okay?" he interrupted. "It's way too soon, and besides, I never go anywhere to meet anyone. Least of all a dance club." He looked away, pushing all thoughts of the coming case aside.

"Okay?"

Maureen nodded. "If you say so."

"I do." He patted her leg. "You ever think maybe I just wanted to bond with my girls?"

She smiled. "I guess."

"Well, then." He stood up and grabbed the dishcloth.

Tapping his leg with her foot, she smiled up at him. "You know, Dad; we could always bond at the mall."

Elliot laughed. "Yeah? I bet we could. But I think I'd rather take my chances on the dance floor."

"You sure?

"My credit card thinks so."

Maureen laughed. "Can't take it with you."

"No, but I can sit and cherish small repayments a while longer." He flicked the towel at her and went to finish the clearing up.

Don Cragen strode across the squad room and stopped at Elliot's desk.

"How's it coming along?" he asked.

Elliot looked up. "Fine." He dropped his pen down. "Fin and John have arranged the wire for tomorrow night…" He nodded over to his partner. "And Liv's talked to the local beat guys that walk the club we picked."

She nodded. "Locked, loaded and ready to go, Cap'n."

Cragen nodded. "And yourself?"

Nodding, Elliot leaned back in his chair. "I'm cool."

Don pushed papers aside, and perched on the edge of the desk.

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh." Elliot looked at him. "Why d'you ask?"

Cragen smiled. "Oh, just wondered how the dancing lessons were coming on."

Elliot grinned and scratched his chin. "Oh, right. That. Well, I had my first introduction to disco last night, courtesy of my girls." He glanced at Olivia, who grinned at him.

Cragen laughed. He looked up as Munch and Fin walked over. The black detective's face was wrinkled up.

"Did I hear you right? *Disco*?" He said it the way people usually said 'pedophile'.

Elliot shrugged innocently. "Uh-huh."

"Oh, my God…"

Elliot frowned. "What?"

"He's making an effort," Olivia shrugged. "What more do you want?"

Fin shook his head. "You can't be serious."

Elliot held his hands out. "Look, it was dancing, okay?"

"But *Disco*?" Fin looked pained.

Rolling his eyes, Elliot sighed. "Dancin'; Disco… what's the difference? It all involved my kids makin' fun of me."

"Man…" Fin shook his head. "If you don't know the difference between the 70's and 'now', then you're in bigger trouble than I thought."

"Surely to God it doesn't matter *how* he dances, just that he gets out there and does it," Cragen said.

Fin pointed at Elliot. "If he's supposed to 'pass' as on the scene, then doin' a bad Gloria Gaynor just ain't gonna cut it, y'know?"

Munch barked a laugh and did the Saturday Night Fever thing, pointing up and up. "Stayin' Alive - Stayin' Alive…"

"Shut up, John," Elliot and Cragen said simultaneously.

The captain stood. "Look, being as you seem to know so much about all this, and knowing how to 'boogey on down' is so damned important; then why don't *you*…" He pointed squarely at Fin. "Go teach *him* how."

"I don' think…"

Cragen frowned and pointed. "Go. Interview Room 3. Now."

Fin stood defiant. "Aw, Cap… C'mon. I ain't no dance instructor."

"Do I need to make it a direct order?"

Fin stepped away. "You can't teach…"

Cragen lowered his head and glared.

Elliot sighed and stood up. "C'mon, Travolta. You think you're the expert? Let's see what you got." He began to roll up his sleeves and walk away.

Sensing no-one following, he turned. "Well? If I gotta do this in public tomorrow, the least you can do is help me not make as ass of myself."

Munch chuckled. "Off you go, you two; and remember, Fin, 'no-one puts Baby in the corner'."

"Screw you, man," Fin snapped.

Elliot frowned. "Baby?"

Munch looked at him in amazement. "Do you have absolutely no popular cultural references whatsoever?"

Elliot shook his head. "Yeah, whatever. Come on, Tutuola. Let's rock and roll."

Fin rolled his eyes and went to his desk. "This is gonna be a fuckin' disaster," he muttered. Fishing through some tapes he selected one and slammed the drawer. "Okay. You asked for it. Let's go."

The others watched them leave. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Cragen looked at his watch. "I'm late for a meeting upstairs," he said. "So, good luck if I don't see you before you go out." He shouldered himself into his jacket and banged out of the squad room.

Olivia and Munch watched the doors swinging shut behind him. As the squeaking hinge stilled, a silence fell over the room.

Munch looked over at Olivia.

"So… Looks like it's just you and me."

"Yeah," she replied absently, still staring at the door.

The silence deepened as they began to shuffle papers on their desks.

It was another five minutes before Munch sighed and spoke.

"D'you think Elliot's really going to be able to carry this off?"

Olivia made a non-committal noise, chewing the end of her pen. "I guess. He's going to do his best anyway."

"Ah, yes. His 'best'." Munch said meaningfully.

Olivia turned to him. "Meaning?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Meaning, nothing." He waited for another five minutes before speaking again, pursing his lips. "Just seems like Tutuola's got his work cut out for him."

"Oh, c'mon; he can't be that bad," Olivia protested.

Munch smirked. "You think?"

They stared at one another. The smirk crept across the room to Olivia, who tried to hide it behind her hand.

"John…" she whispered, "You're not thinking what I'm thinking, are you?"

"That all depends on how bad your thoughts are."

Olivia looked at her desk, then back up at Munch, her expression giving her away. They grinned at one another, then as one, they leaped up and ran for the door.

"Which one?" Munch snapped.

"Three, Cragen said," Olivia replied, pushing past him.

"Okay. Listen to this." Fin slipped the tape in the recorder and pressed 'play'. A steady bass beat thumped out. Fin nodded in time to the sound.

Elliot winced. "Jeez… Is that what they play in those places?" he shouted.

Fin looked at him. "You weren't kiddin' when you said you weren't a big club-goer, huh?"

Shaking his head, Elliot narrowed his eyes. "I'm more of a living-room-stereo Springsteen-man, myself."

"I guessed as much." Fin turned the music down a touch. "Okay."

He shoved the interview table against the wall and threw his jacket on it.

"Let's get this on."

Elliot smirked. "Whoa, there, Big Boy."

"Real funny." Fin stepped in front of him and began to click his fingers. "C'mon. Move."

Sighing, Elliot pulled his tie loose and undid the top button. "Promise not to laugh?"

"No promises. Lemme see you move."

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Elliot recalled his instruction from the night before and started to sway. He moved his feet self-consciously.

After a minute or two, he slowed and stopped, a blush rising under Fin's gaze. "I can't do this with you watching me," he complained.

"Man, you gotta do this tonight with a hundred guys watchin' you."

He began to move, his body finding the rhythm of the beat effortlessly.

"Here; try it like this…"

Elliot watched in silence. The black man made it look as easy as breathing. His hips seemed to be jointed independently to his knees, the movement smooth and graceful, despite the hard-edged music.

"Jesus," he muttered, frowning. "I can't do that…"

"Sure you can." Fin clicked his fingers. "C'mon. Move it."

Olivia and Munch slipped into the dark foyer of the interview room, closing the door with a furtive snick. They both turned, and stared through the one-way glass.

"Oh, my God…" Munch breathed. "I don't know whether to laugh or cry."

Olivia blinked. "Tell me about it."

Through the glass, they watched in silence as their colleagues moved in their own silent world.

There was a look of grim determination on Fin's face, while Elliot stared down at his feet, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. They danced face to face, one elegant, one awkward and stilted.

Olivia reached out for the intercom, but Munch held her hand still.

"No, don't. It's somehow more eloquent without sound."

She let her hand drop, transfixed by the scene in front of her.

"Relax, man. You're all tight and hung-up."

Elliot sighed, his arms flopping to his sides. "Aw… God. This is worse than last night. I can't do this, Fin."

"Sure you can," he said, reaching out to take both of Elliot's hands. He paused and looked straight in the blue eyes. "You got a problem with me touching you?"

Elliot looked down at their hands. "No, I don't think so."

"Good, cos this ain't gonna work if you get jammed up over another guy in your personal space."

Elliot grinned. "I think I can handle a little guy-on-guy action." He pursed his lips. "Within reason, of course," he added under his breath.

Fin snorted. "Yeah, well, I ain't gonna go anywhere *near* the other side of 'reason,' so you can relax."

Elliot laughed as Fin linked their fingers together. "Follow what I do. And try to relax."

"Yes, boss."

Fin maneuvered Elliot's arms to mirror his own moves, forcing the other man's feet to follow suit. Trying to copy the other man, Elliot shimmied his hips one way then the other.

The music pounded relentlessly, making no allowances for any clumsy efforts.

"That's it. You're kinda gettin' the idea." Fin raised both sets of hands in the air, stepping closer. He scowled and shook their arms sharply. "Hey, loosen up, will ya? You always this tense?"

Elliot grunted, still looking down. "So my ex-wife says."

"For real?"

Elliot nodded, slowing down, pulling his hands free and letting his arms drop down.

"Yep," he sighed. "Can't remember the last time we did this. Guess I've always been too much of a fuck-up on the dance floor for her to want to bother." He rubbed the back of his neck.

Fin shook his head. "Well, let's see if we can't do something about that."

"Yeah. Good luck with that."

"You think you can't learn to dance?"

Elliot huffed. "Looks that way to me, and you know what they say about white men."

Grinning, Fin shook his head. "Uh-uh. Yeah? Well, you ain't never had me as a teacher." He pointed between Elliot's eyes. "I tell ya, Elliot, Stabler, I'm gonna make you such a fuckin' hot mover, you're gonna burn a hole in the goddamned dance floor."

Throwing his head back, Elliot burst out laughing. "Yeah?"

"You bet."

Taking a deep breath, Elliot tilted his head and nodded. "Okay, then Maestro; you bring it on – I'm all yours."

He held his hands out.

"Now, there's a sight I never, ever thought I'd see, even in my wildest, most twisted nightmares." Munch folded his arms.

Olivia didn't reply. She just stared through the glass.

Beyond the smoked screen, she watched as Fin took Elliot's hands and placed them on his hips, his mouth speaking silently. Elliot nodded, and pulled the other man closer.

They were face to face, their bodies almost touching.

It was weird, watching them move with no music to provide cues as to the beat. Elliot seemed to loosen up and relax with Fin's hands on his hips, as if Fin's natural rhythm was bleeding through the touch.

His body was moving more easily, keeping in time with the fluid movements the black man was laying down.

Fin was talking the whole time, Elliot nodding, occasionally grinning when he stumbled or stepped on Fin's feet.

Staring nose-to-nose, Fin tilted his head and said something that made Elliot laugh and shake his head.

Beside her, Munch sighed. "They make such a lovely couple, don't you think?"

Olivia chuckled. "They'd kill us if they knew we were watching."

"No doubt. But then, I'm not going to be in a rush to tell them; are you?"

"Uh-uh." Olivia shook her head, still staring straight ahead. "No way."

"Put that thing away, man," Fin said. "You look like yo' gonna slip it to me."

Elliot laughed and put his tongue back in his mouth. "Sorry. It's a bad habit."

Fin shook his head. "It's kinda cute, but save it for tonight, yeah?"

Elliot laughed again, the humor acting as an antidote to his nerves.

"So… How'm I doin'?"

"Not too shabby," Fin nodded. "How 'bout we take it up a notch?"

"There's another notch?"

Fin looked at him. "You ever see Dirty Dancin'?"

Elliot stared back. "I don't think so…" He paused. "Sounds kinda…"

Fin shook his head. "Yeah, well it ain't. But there's some stuff that you might need tonight. Jus' thought it'd save me showin' you, is all."

Elliot shrugged. "Sorry. Not much of a dance-movie kinda guy."

Fin sighed. "S'okay. Turn around."

It was strangely silent in the foyer of the interview room. Olivia had all but forgotten she wasn't alone; for some reason, Munch didn't seem his usual loquacious self.

The lack of conversation didn't matter, she was utterly focussed on the two men in the other room.

Fin had maneuvered Elliot to face the glass and was standing behind him. He pulled Elliot's arms up above his head, making him hold his wrists in place. Standing with his own body pressed up against her partner's, she watched Fin's hands run down Elliot's body, all the way from his elbows to his waist.

With what looked like a shouted laugh, Elliot collapsed forward, his arms snapping down, his backside shoving Fin clear across the room. Fin's face was a picture of outraged shock.

Olivia grinned.

"I recognise that move," Munch chuckled. "And as I recall, Baby didn't like it much, either."

"What the fuck!" Fin straightened up with a wince.

"What the hell, man? You might have warned me," Elliot complained, his arms wrapped around his body.

"Oh, yeah, like I'm gonna say: 'Hey, El, I'm gonna feel you up – s'that ok?'" Fin rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but still…"

Fin moved close again. "Get a grip. Turn around."

"Oh, c'mon. Gimme a break, man. I'm ticklish."

"Yeah, I got that. Shut up and move."

Elliot shook his head. "I can't. I hate that."

"You freak out like that when a woman touches you?"

Elliot shrugged. "I don't like being tickled."

"I wasn't tickling, I was *tryin'* to turn you on."

Elliot's eyes widened.

Fin narrowed his eyes. "You know what I mean. That's how it is - you're gonna get that on a dance floor. People touch one another."

"Yeah, but…"

"Oh, chill. Now turn around and take it like a man."

They looked at one another for a moment, then Elliot cracked up, his whoops of laughter breaking Fin's snarky mood. He shook his head laughing.

"C'mon, you know what I mean."

"Just as well, huh?" Elliot said, turning around and raising his arms.

Fin stepped up behind him again. "Don't flatter yourself."

Olivia and Munch watched three more abortive attempts by Fin to get Elliot to stand still as he slid his hands down his body.

"I give it five more minutes before Odafin smacks him one," Munch observed.

"Less," Olivia muttered. She couldn't believe how sensitive her partner's body appeared to be. She smiled to herself. So; he was outrageously ticklish. This was great ammunition for the future.

They both peered in closer as Fin finally lost his patience.

He stomped away in disgust, hands on top on his head, his eyes raised to the ceiling. Elliot looked at him, his body language sheepish.

Fin turned and they exchanged a few short words at one another.

With an almost audible sigh, Fin returned, this time turning his back on Elliot, holding his hands up, his face creased with frustration.

Grinning with triumph, Elliot stepped up and repeated the maneuver that he couldn't stand, Fin's body unflinching as he slid his hands down it.

Fin turned around, eyebrows raised. Stabler shrugged.

"What was so fuckin' difficult about that?" Fin demanded.

Stabler shrugged. "Nothin', I guess, if you're not ticklish."

"Jesus!"

"C'mon, it'll be okay. I'll just have to make sure I'm not the one getting' felt-up. I'll have to do the feeling." He grinned. "Probably safer that way."

"The way you are, you'll be lucky to get past 'hello'."

Elliot pouted, "That's not fair. I'm doing okay – you said so, yourself." He stepped over to the tape deck and flipped the cassette.

"C'mon. One last time."

Fin sighed. "I don't think so."

"C'mon." He took the other man's hand. "Lemme show you I can do it."

"My feet hurt from you stompin' on 'em, man."

"Please… Just one more."

With very bad grace, Fin allowed himself to be pulled into the middle of the room. He scowled. "Get on with it, then."

Elliot tapped his foot, capturing the beat, and began to move.

It was almost surreal, Olivia thought. She could hear absolutely nothing, yet her mind was supplying a soundtrack to the scene in front of her. She very much doubted Fin would have chosen the same music as her sub-conscious, but it worked.

She wondered what music Munch was listening to inside of his head.

In the other room, Elliot had pulled Fin close to him, and was moving with more grace and style than she would have given him credit for an hour ago.

This time it was Fin who was stiff and wooden. He had a pissed off look on his face, gazing up at the ceiling.

Elliot seemed to ignore the attitude as he ran his hands up and down Fin's back.

Olivia's eyebrow rose. It looked for all like Elliot was using both his body and the music to seduce the reluctant Tutuola.

"Better?" Elliot asked, his nose almost touching Fin's.

Fin shrugged. "Not bad, I suppose. Better than it was before."

"So; am I one fuckin' hot mover, yet?"

Fin smiled, despite his pissy mood. "Well, you ain't my type, but I think you're gonna get some attention on the dance floor tonight."

"Yeah?" Elliot pulled back and squinted at the other man. "You really think I'm gonna get away with it?"

"With what?

"Being gay."

"Don't know about that, but you'll get away with lookin' like you're up for some action."

Elliot laughed. "Cool." He hooked his chin over Tutuola's shoulder and pulled the man tight into his arms "Thanks, man. I owe ya."

"Yeah…" Fin cleared his throat. "Whatever." He pushed at Elliot's hips. "You can let go of me, now."

"What? I don't get the last dance?" he teased.

"That *was* the last dance, Stabler," Fin said, pushing him away. "I don't want you thinkin' I'm enjoying this."

Elliot considered that. "You know what? I did."

"Well, save it for the club, coz you're wastin' it on me." Snapping off the tape, Fin pulled it from the recorder and moved towards the door. "You comin'?"

Leaning on the edge of the table, Elliot folded his arms. He smiled.

"I mean it. Thanks."

"No problem. I'd say 'anytime', but y'know…" He pulled a face.

Elliot laughed. "Yeah, I know."

As Fin's hand touched the handle, John grabbed Olivia's arm.

"Oh-oh. Time to go," he whispered.

They all but ran back to the squad room. Throwing themselves back in their respective chairs, they grabbed a pen each and tried to look busy.

Moments later, the two men came through the door.

Olivia looked up. "Hey," she said, innocently, turning her pen the right way up. "Everything go okay?"

Elliot glanced at Fin and grinned. "Sure. We're cool."

Munch peered at Fin over his glasses. "I take it you were successful in imparting the vertical expression of horizontal intent?"

Fin gave him a sharp look. "Huh?"

Munch raised his eyebrows. "Oh, Nothing." He went back to his work.

Fin frowned and looked at Elliot. "You have any idea what that meant?"

Elliot shrugged. "Beats me."

Olivia cleared her throat. "So, you okay about tonight, El?"

"Sure. Ready to knock 'em dead." He looked at his watch. "I think it's time to dash home, shower and change. Need to look gorgeous for my public." He grabbed his jacket and began to roll his sleeves down. "See ya later, guys."

Munch waved his hand. "Don't forget that trip to the video store. I had them put by a copy of 'Cruising' for you."

Elliot scowled. "Thanks, I saw that one."

John's eyebrows shot up. "You did? My Lord, I'm stunned."

"Yeah, well, Kathy likes Pacino."

"You enjoy it?"

Elliot's face contorted. "Not particularly."

Munch grinned widely. "Might want to rent it again, get a quick refresher course."

Olivia raised her hand. "Leave him be, John. Elliot, see you later, okay?"

"Yeah." With a last glare across the room, he walked out.

Munch glanced across at Olivia and smirked.

"So what d'you think?" Fin held up the item.

Munch looked at the article, then back at Fin. "Nice," he said, his tone betraying his real thoughts.

"You don't like it?"

"Frankly, no." Pushing his glasses up his nose, Munch leaned back in his chair. "It smacks of desperation."

Fin frowned. "How can you say that, man?"

"I just did."

Fin shook his head, turning the shirt this way and that. "You have no taste."

Much's eyes widened. "*This* from the walking icon to man-made fabrics?"

"Hey, screw you, man, it's perfect."

"If an absolute disregard for style and élan is the look you're going for, then yes, it's perfect."

"It's all the rage on the club scene."

"Really? And who, pray tell, told you that? The doorman at the partially-sighted club?"

Fin hissed a disgusted breath. "Man, you are so wrong it's almost painful. You're sayin' if it ain't black, it ain't cool?"

"No, I'm saying most everything *but* that shirt is cool." Munch grinned. "And I can't wait for you to show Elliot."

Fin folded the shirt, glaring at his partner. "Don't you go ruining it," he snarled.

Munch held his hands up. "I wouldn't dream of sabotaging your plot."

"It ain't no plot, man – I'm tryin' to help him."

"Of course you are."

Fin showed him the finger as Olivia walked in. "I see you two are playing nice, as usual," she said, putting her purse on the desk. "Don't you ever get tired of sniping at one another?"

The two men looked blankly at her. Munch raised his eyebrows. "Sniping?"

"Whaddya mean?" Fin shrugged.

Olivia smiled. "Nothing, apparently." She looked around. "El not here, yet?"

"Nope. Must be the traffic."

"Or he's seen the sartorial atrocity you have planned for him and moved to Canada." Munch peered over his glasses.

"Oh, get outta my face. You wouldn't know good taste if it bit you in your skinny ass."

Munch just smiled.

Olivia looked at her watch. "Think he's bailed?"

Fin shook his head. "Nah – be the traffic. Always the same, Friday night."

"Sorry I'm late, guys." Elliot pushed through the doors. "Traffic was a bitch."

Fin held a hand up. "Told you so."

"We good to go?" Putting his badge and gun in his locker, Elliot glanced at the others. "All wired up?"

"Sure." Fin lifted his sweater to show a wire trailing down the centre of his chest. "Liv's all set with the receiver."

Elliot tapped his knuckles on the desk. "Let's get it on, then."

Munch stood up and grabbed his coat.

"You won't need that," Olivia told him. It's mild out there. And you're gonna be inside a club."

"Fine." He replaced the coat. "But I keep the sweater." He pulled the zipper up to his neck.

"Man," Fin shook his head. No way you look like you wanna score."

Munch lifted an eyebrow. "That's just fine by me. After all, we're not there to pick up guys, we're supposed to be watching put for Elliot."

"Oh, yeah; speaking of that…" Fin took up the shirt. "I got you this." He threw the shirt over the desk.

Elliot caught and unfolded it. "What's this?"

"Shirt; thought you should at least look like you’ve made an effort."

Elliot raised his eyebrows. "And what's wrong with what I'm wearing?" He looked down at his green Henley and jeans.

"Nothin' man. It's just…" Fin winced. "You know; kinda…"

"What?"

Fin sighed. "Boring."

Elliot blinked. "Boring?" He pulled at the shirt. "My daughters bought me this shirt."

"Yeah. Like I said." Stepping around Munch, Fin walked over to Elliot and took the new shirt from him. "Look, I'm not dissing your kid's taste; it just *looks*… Well, you're not there as a father, Elliot, you're there to pick up guys." He held the shirt up. "At least go there *looking* like you want some action."

Elliot took the offering from him. "Looks a bit small to me."

"It's fitted. Meant to be like that," Fin told him. "Go on, try it."

Raising an eyebrow, Elliot sighed and put the shirt on the desk. "You sure about this?" he said, pulling his Henley out of his jeans and dragging it over his head.

"Totally," Fin told him, handing the shirt over.

"Yeah, okay." Wriggling into the shirt with not a little difficulty, Elliot grunted and tugged it down. It barely scraped the waistband of his pants. He looked up at the others. He wriggled his shoulders to settle himself and turned to face his colleagues.

"So; whaddya think?"

In the ensuing silence, Munch cleared his throat. "I think I speak for us all when I say…"

"You look great," Fin glared over at Munch. "Real cool."

"Yeah?"

"It looks great, Elliot." Olivia nodded, a small smile on her face. "Very sexy."

Elliot frowned. "I dunno. It feels kinda tight." He inhaled deeply, pulling the shirt tight across his chest. He poked a nipple thoughtfully. "Doesn't leave much to the imagination."

Olivia smiled, watching his nail scrape his chest. "I think that's kinda the point."

Elliot looked doubtful. "Y'think?"

"Looks da bomb, man." Fin slapped him on the back. The guys won't be able to keep their eyes offa you."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, absolutely; just ask Olivia," Munch smirked, nodding to where her eyes were lodged.

Elliot turned to look at his partner, his eyebrow wandering up his forehead in a silent question.

She shrugged, blushing slightly and looked away. "Hey… I got eyes. So what?"

Elliot let a grin tickle the edges of his mouth. He flexed a bicep, the steep cut of the shirt riding high on the muscle.

"Like what you see, baby?" he grinned.

Olivia raised a lazy brow and shrugged. "Not bad, I guess."

"Nothin' but a Sex-God," he said, lowering his arm with a leer.

Olivia just rolled her eyes.

"Okay, now we've established you're gorgeous, do you think we should make a move?" Munch moved to the door.

Elliot draped his Henley over the back of his chair and plucked at the front of the tee shirt. "If I freeze to death, Tutuola, I'm leaving you custody of my children," he said as they walked to the door.

"I done Narcotics; think you can frighten me?"

Elliot grinned. "You ever been to a mall with three hormonal teenaged girls?"

Fin frowned.

"Touche," Munch said as he held the door open for them.

*"Talk to me, guys. How's it going?"* Olivia tapped her fingers on the steering wheel.

Inside the club, Fin pretended to rub his ear, turning up the volume on the tiny earpiece he wore. "Louder, Liv."

The question was repeated and he winced. "Okay. I got ya," he muttered into his chest. He looked up across the club.

"Guess you could say, 'slowly'."

*"What d'you mean?"*

"What she say?" Munch asked, sipping his drink.

"She wants to know how it's going." They exchanged a glance

"Well, you could tell her Elliot is standing like a petrified but well-built wall-flower."

Fin gave him a look. He bent his head. "Looks like Elliot's having a little trouble."

*"He okay?"* Her concern clearly bled through the music and static.

"Yeah, he's okay – he just looks like he's about ready to shit a brick."

Olivia's soft laugh tickled his ear and he smiled.

*"Be nice, Fin. This *is* his first time."*

"Well we ain't exactly old hands at this scene, either."

*"Yeah, but you have your partner for moral support."*

Fin looked at Munch, who was staring across the room at Elliot, a smirk all over his face.

"I guess," he replied slowly. He chewed his lip a moment, banged his glass down on the bar, making Munch jump.

"What?"

"I'm goin' to help him come out of his shell."

"Don't you mean, his 'closet'?" Munch grinned.

"Shuddup, man. Just keep your beady eyes open, okay?"

Munch raised his glass as the other man began to fight his way through the crowd.

Elliot squinted as he looked through the crowd. His face was screwed up in reaction to the noise, the heat and the sheer number of bodies packed into the small space.

He was sure this must violate Health and Safety Codes. No way was it safe to cram so many people – he mentally corrected himself – so many *men* in one tiny club.

He pressed himself harder against the wall as a very large and hairy man approached.

"Hey," the man all but shouted.

Elliot nodded. "Hey."

"You with anyone?"

Biting his lip, Elliot shook his head. "No. Just hangin', y'know?"

"Wanna…?" The man waved at the dance floor behind him.

Shaking his head, Elliot lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. "Maybe later."

"Suit yourself." Elliot watched the man move away and ask another man the same question, with a more favourable response. He was ashamed at the tiny snick of relief that ran through him.

He jumped as someone touched his elbow.

Fin jerked his chin slightly. "Hey. Havin' fun?"

Elliot shook his head. "Not really."

"You don't say."

Elliot frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"You look half way to pissed off from where I'm sittin'."

Elliot pursed his lips. "I'm just absorbing the atmosphere. Trying to get a feel for the place."

"That what you call it? Looks more like you're tryin' to hide. You know, you shoulda danced with him," Fin said, nodding toward the big man.

"Nah."

"You know you're here to…"

Elliot held up a hand, "I know, I know… But he'd asked just about every other guy in here – he wasn't just after men like me."

Fin grinned. "Straight, y'mean?"

Elliot didn't smile back. "You know what I mean."

"Chill, I'm just teasin' ya, man."

"Thanks; like I need that, now."

Fin sighed, put his hand on the wall behind Elliot's head and leaned in. "Look, I'm not gonna bust your balls. I came over to help ya out. C'mon; dance with me."

Elliot's eyebrows rose. He looked at the hand next to his head.

"What?"

"I'm askin' you to dance," Fin grinned. "Thought it'd make you loosen up." He shrugged. "You done it before – it's no big deal."

"Yes, but…"

Fin took him by the elbow and pulled him away from the wall. "Come on, Sweetcheeks, Let's get it on."

As he pulled Elliot through the crowd to the dance area, Fin could hear Olivia chuckling down the mike. He grinned, knowing that phrase was going to come up in the squad room in the near future.

They pushed their way into the crowd, Fin picking up the beat of the music immediately, with Elliot eventually falling into the same rhythm.

Saying nothing, they danced, Elliot gradually relaxing into the whole scene. Around them, men ignored and checked them both out; elbows and arms bumping and brushing them in casual, and not so casual contact.

Two songs into their dance, Elliot eventually grinned.

"Thanks," he said, leaning in to speak over the noise.

Fin shrugged and carried on dancing, obviously enjoying himself.

Elliot watched the other man, impressed at how he seemed to ignore the actual intent of the club, and got busy with dancing, losing himself in the music. He shook his head and smiled.

"You really dig this, don't you?" he shouted.

Fin opened his eyes. "Yeah. Why not? Don't you?"

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Jesus,you gotta be kidding! It's too loud, too fuckin' hot and…" He jumped and stumbled over his feet as an unseen hand grabbed his butt cheek and squeezed it.

He shook his head and leaned in to finish speaking. "…And I think in the past half hour I've been groped on the ass more times than in the last ten years."

Fin laughed. "Lucky you."

Elliot gave him a sour look but said nothing, concentrating on getting his rhythm back.

Munch handed the glass to his partner as he squeezed back in by the bar. "Enjoy that?"

Fin nodded. "Yeah," he said, taking a long drink. He wiped his mouth on his hand. "Why - you wanna go for a spin?"

Munch shook his head. "I think not, thank you so much for asking. My dancing days are all but over." He peered over his glasses in Elliot's direction. "Besides, I don't think I'm up for the attention."

Fin glanced back across the floor. In the bare moments he had left Elliot's side, it appeared he had found himself another partner.

"How ya doin'?" The man hooked an arm over Elliot's shoulders.

"Great." Elliot looked at the hand and back to the man, unsure as to what to say next.

"I'm Bob," the man said, holding out his other hand.

"Elliot," Stabler replied, shaking hands with him.

"You look good, El," Bob said, his eyes openly appraising Elliot's body.

"Er… I…" Elliot felt heat rising in his face. "Thanks, I guess."

"C'mon."

Elliot found himself being pulled back to the dance floor. He bit the inside of his cheek, but made no attempt to extricate himself.

Surrounded by the hordes, he concentrated on finding the beat. He studied his feet, trying to ignore the arm still welded to his shoulder.

"New here?" Bob shouted.

Elliot smiled. "That obvious, huh?"

The man grinned. "Recognize myself 6 months back," he bellowed. "Scared shitless but so fuckin' excited I could hardly talk."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "That so?"

"Don't worry – you'll be right at home before you know it." The man pulled Elliot closer and placed his other arm on his shoulder.

"They're a real friendly bunch in here, when you get to know them."

They danced face-to-face for a while, Elliot's hands resting lightly on the other man's hips. He looked up, down and to the side, anywhere but directly in front of him.

He made a mental note to thank Fin again for instructing him in Physical Contact 101; without it, he was sure he'd have freaked out by now and shoved Bob clear across the room.

"Nice," Bob said, stepping closer as the music slowed down a touch.

Elliot swallowed and refused to look up. He could feel the man's breath on his face and that was just about as far inside his comfort zone as he was willing to allow.

His hands twitched on the leather belt, desperate to move.

As a pair of strong hands began to knead his shoulders, he held his breath.

"Relax, it's okay, you know." Bob rubbed the muscles under his hands. "It's okay to enjoy this."

Elliot just grunted, his eyes fixed on his boots.

"Hey… Elliot…" Bob nudged his jaw with his hand.

Swallowing, Elliot looked into Bob's grinning face. "What?"

He leaned close and whispered into Elliot's ear. "You're sexy, you know?"

Elliot jumped, startled and bit his bottom lip. "Um… Thanks," he muttered.

Bob leaned back a touch and winked. "Real sexy, if you know what I mean."

Hard enough knowing what to say if a woman called him that, Elliot just stared at Bob, feeling a trickle of sweat inching down his spine to soak into his jeans. His whole back felt hot and wet under Bob's hands.

"C'mere," Bob said softly. Leaning forward, he closed the gap between them brushing his lips on Elliot's.

Elliot panicked. He shoved his hands backwards, pushing Bob out of range.

"No!" he snapped.

"What's wrong?"

"Get the fuck away from me," Elliot muttered.

"What?!" Bob cupped his hand behind his ear, frowning.

Elliot cleared his throat and spoke louder. "I said, I don't do that."

Bob looked confused. "Do what? Kiss?"

Defensive and off-balance, Elliot shrugged.

Bob regarded him with a strange look. "You one of those guys who think if you don't kiss, you're not really gay?"

Elliot kept his mouth resolutely shut.

Bob shook his head. "You're fucked up, man."

Elliot laughed despite himself. "Yeah, you got that right."

"Really is your first time, isn't it?"

"You have no idea," Elliot rolled his eyes and looked around. "I need a drink," he muttered.

"You need more than that, but I'm game." Taking Elliot's hand Bob pulled him through the crowd towards the bar. Elliot trailed behind, happy to be dragged through the crush, grateful the tricky moment had passed.

Fin nodded faintly as Elliot was dragged over to stand to their right. He gave a narrowed-eyed look in return.

"What're you drinking?" Bob asked, waving the barkeep.

"Soda."

"C'mon" You'll never get loosened up like that."

"I don't drink," Elliot told him. "Soda's fine."

"You an alcoholic, or something?"

"Yeah, I'm something." Elliot didn't elaborate, just leaned on the bar and stared at the bottles.

Bob sighed and ordered their drinks.

Olivia turned the two-way radio off as Elliot climbed in the front and slammed the door. He rested his head on the window with his eyes tightly closed.

Two or three minutes passed in silence.

Giving up on an immediate response, Olivia started the car and moved out into the deserted street. She drove for several blocks before Elliot sighed and sat up straight.

"So, how'd it go?" she asked.

"Horrible," he growled. "My feet are killin' me." He reached down to rub his ankles.

Olivia smiled. "Not much of a dancer, huh?"

"You got that right." He winced.

Steering carefully through the damp street, Olivia let him gather his thoughts for a while. He was staring out of the windshield with a glazed expression on his face.

"D'you feel okay with John and Fin as backup, or do you want more?"

"God, no." Elliot shook his head. "They're fine." He pulled a face. "I can live without the whole of the 1-6 seeing me make a fool of myself."

"I'm sure you did just fine. Fin seemed to think it went just great."

He looked at her. "What'd he say?"

Olivia shrugged as she turned left. "Oh, just that it was busy; you seemed to make contact with a few guys. Got yourself seen."

Elliot stared out of the window. "Yeah."

"You really okay, El?" She slowed the car as she looked over at him. "You're kinda quiet."

"I'm tired."

"That all?"

He glanced over and gave her a small smile. "Yeah. Tired and cranky. Sorry, Liv."

She smiled back at him. "No problem."

They drove in silence a while, until he gave in and chuckled quietly.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

She nudged him. "C'mon. Give."

The smile grew. He shook his head. "God… I made contact all right."

Olivia pursed her lips up to smother the grin. "Well, I imagine you did, wearing that shirt."

He looked down. "Yeah. It was kinda popular. Bob liked it a lot."

"Bob?" The grin on her face opened up. "Tell me."

"Well, Bob and I got on real well. He wanted my number." He grinned. "I mean, REALLY wanted my number."

Olivia laughed. "Score one for the Stabe! Nice move."

Elliot rested his head on the seat back. "Yeah, well, I'm not too crazy about Bob, so I gave him the wrong number."

"Aw. That's a shame," Olivia chuckled. What's not to like?"

"Moustache," he said brusquely.

"They're a bitch, huh? Scratchy when you kiss."

He gave her a sharp look. "What'd Fin say? He tell you I kissed some guy? Did he?"

Olivia looked at him with surprised eyes. "Jeez, El. Take a pill. I'm just talking personal experience, okay? I hate hairy men."

Elliot grunted and laid his head back down. "Oh."

Getting closer to the turn off for the freeway, Olivia flicked the turn signal. "Man, you're touchy."

He sighed. "I'm sorry." He rubbed his face. "Damn place was too loud, too hot and I just didn't much care for having my ass groped all night."

Chuckling quietly, she slipped onto the freeway without another car in sight. "Welcome to my world."

"That happen to you a lot?"

She shrugged. "Back when I was younger. Not so much now."

"Hey, I think you still 'got it'."

She smiled. "I meant because I don't go clubbing any more, thank you."

"Oh."

A few miles down the road she sneaked a glance at him. "You okay for tomorrow?"

He sighed. "I guess."

"It's the Pit Stop down on Brier."

Elliot rolled his eyes. "What is it with these places? Can't they think of decent names?"

"Grouch."

She got another of the famous Stabler grunts as a reply, so she took that as a sign that he was done talking for a while. They drove in silence.

As the turn off for his street came up in the headlights, she checked the clock in the car. "God… I'm looking forward to my bed, tonight."

There was no reply, glancing over, she smiled at his closed eyes and slack mouth.

Ten minutes later, she pulled up outside his place. Leaning over she shook his arm. "Hey, Cinderella. Ball's over."

Pulling in a deep breath, Elliot stretched and rubbed his face. "What?"

"Home. Get out. Sleep." She pushed his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah." He unbuckled and opened the door, groaning as he climbed out. "Shit," he muttered, stumbling slightly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. See you tomorrow night?"

"Same time, same place."

He rapped his knuckles on the roof. "Yep. And thanks for the ride."

"Say, El?"

He leaned down into the car. "Huh?"

"Who's number did you give Bob? Better not be mine," she smiled up at him.

Elliot leaned down and grinned. "John's," he said and slammed the door.

The sound of loud knocking gradually pulled Elliot from both his nap and his sofa. He groaned, checked his watch, swore and hurried to the door.

"Oh, hey, Baby." He smiled at Maureen as she wordlessly walked past him into the living room. "This is a nice surprise." He closed the door, wondering if he had forgotten some arrangement or other. She looked pissed.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

She turned. "No thank you."

He frowned; the no 'hello' kiss was an ominous sign. "Whassup? You okay?" He watched her pace about the room, an intense look on her face.

"I'm fine." She sat down abruptly on the couch.

"Maur…" He ran his hand over his head. He was still half asleep. "Is something wrong?"

She looked up at him with shining eyes. "Oh, Daddy."

She hadn’t called him that in years. He quickly moved to sit next to her. "What, Baby? What's wrong?"

He slipped an arm around her shoulders as her face began to crumple.

"Aww, now… Come on… it can't be that bad."

He sat holding her as she struggled against the tears.

"Maur, Honey?" He tilted her face up. It was red and blotchy. "Talk to me."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth about you and mom?"

He pulled back, stunned. "What d'you mean?"

"Why did you guys say it was just that you fell out of love?"

He frowned. "It was, I mean, we did." He shook his head. "What's brought this on? I thought you were okay with this?"

"Daddy I'm not a little girl. I'm not like Kathleen and the twins. You could've told me!"

He looked blankly at her. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"You."

He shook his head. "No… You still lost me. Me, what"?

She sniffed wetly and pulled away from him. She sat still, seemingly gathering herself together. "You remember Billy Fields – from college?"

He narrowed his eyes, confused at the sudden change of topic. The name did ring a bell, but it was filed under a pile of other names in the kid's-stuff junk-drawer in his mind.

"I don't know, maybe. Remind me."

"Two years above me, you and mom met him once at the Fresher's Barbeque. He had the nose piercing."

"Ah. Yeah." An image of a blond kid with spiky hair flashed into his head. He lifted his hand. "He had the pointy-hair thing going on, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. I remember him now."

"Good, because he remembers you. You scared the shit out of him…"

Elliot frowned. "Language."

"Every time he came over to speak to me, you stared, freaking him totally."

"Yeah, well. He looked weird."

"He's okay. A bit creepy, but okay."

"Oh, God… you're not seeing…"

"No, Dad! This is not about me, this is about you!"

"Oh, okay." He shifted slightly in his seat. "So; what about me?"

"Like I said; Billy remembers you."

"And?"

"He called me this morning. He said he saw you last night."

In a full-blown and cowardly retreat, all the blood drained out of Elliot's face, leaving him light-headed. He swallowed. "Oh? That so?"

"Yes." Maureen stared at him. "Why couldn't you tell me the truth? Why, Daddy?"

Elliot licked his lips, stalling for thinking time. "Tell you what, Baby?"

"That you and mom split up because you're really gay."

The errant blood ran back up his body, crashing into his face. Heat washed over him. "Just a minute; you think I'm…"

She held up a hand. "Billy saw you in some gay club. Don't bother to deny it." She jerked her chin at him. "I can see it on your face."

Cursing his blush response, Elliot nibbled on his lip, thinking furiously. "God, Maur, those places have crappy lighting… Who's to say…?"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Maureen stood up and stared down at him, hands on hips. "Give me a little credit! Billy knows your face – he thinks you're cute, for God's sake! So he *knows* it was you! Don't lie to me, Daddy. You were there."

She stepped back and pointed at him. "That's why you wanted me to teach you how to dance!" Shaking her head, she turned away. "God… I feel so stupid."

Elliot stood up and reached for her. "Sweetheart, you've got it wrong.

"I can't believe you lied to me." A tear rolled won her cheek. "That's what hurts the most."

Elliot felt his insides turn over. "I didn't lie to you, darling." He reached for her hand. "Please… It's not what you think."

"I don't *care* that you like men – I'm just upset that you lied."

He blew out an exasperated breath. "I *don't* like men!"

"Yeah. And dancing in a gay club is the best way to 'not' like them." She turned her back on him.

Elliot looked up at the ceiling and counted to ten. He wanted to scream and shout – he wanted to punch something. He sighed.

"Maureen. Look at me." He took her elbow and pulled. "Come on, look at me."

She resisted.

He tugged harder. "At least do me the courtesy of looking me in the face while I try to explain, will you?"

Very begrudgingly, she allowed him to turn her around. He unfolded her arms and held her hands.

"Maureen?" He waited for her to look up. When she finally met his eyes, he smiled. "I don't think I've ever knowingly lied to you; to any of my children." He ducked down to keep her gaze as her head dropped. "Please, believe me. Your friend didn't see what he thought he saw."

She tried to pull her hands away. "No, wait. I admit, I *was* at that club last night." She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Yes, I was. I don't deny that. But what your friend doesn't realize is that I was working."

The doubt in her eyes nearly crushed him. He shook his head.

"God, I can't believe I'm having to explain this to my own daughter." He sighed. "I really shouldn't be telling you this, but I was there with John and Fin. We're working undercover."

She stared at him, obviously still not convinced.

"Please. Trust me on this. We're trying to catch a guy who's…" He trailed off, not wanting to frighten her with the details. "Well, let's just say some guy who's hurting gay men." He peered at her. "Okay?"

She kept staring at him, tears wobbling in her eyes.

"Maureen, I had a wife for twenty years, and together we made four beautiful children. You don t imagine you all were created out of anything but love, do you?"

He peered closer. "Tell me you don't think I would father four children for some sort of elaborate cover-story?"

She sniffed loudly. "I don't know what to believe."

Elliot winced. "Ow. That's pretty hurtful."

She shrugged, still holding back.

"Look…" Pulling her down to sit on the sofa, he wrapped an arm around her. "Forget what Billy said. Forget what you thought. I love you, and I loved your mom. I'm *not* gay – I don't want to have sex with men…" He tried not to wince as he said that.

"And I promise that as soon as this is over, I'm gonna take you into the squad room and get all the other guys to tell you the same thing." He squeezed her tightly. "Deal?"

"I guess." She wiped her nose and looked at him. "So, you're not…"

"No, Baby, I'm most definitely *not*."

"And the dancing?"

He laughed gently. "God, if you only knew what I've gone through to be less of a shitty dancer."

She smiled. "Language."

"Yeah – well; I'm so bad I've had to have lessons off Tutuola."

Her eyes widened. "No way! He's scary."

Elliot laughed. "He sure is – especially standing behind me, running his great big hands over my armpits."

Maureen laughed. "Oh, my God, he made you do Dirty Dancing? With the way your sides are?"

He shook head. "Nearly killed me."

"I can imagine." She slipped her arm around his back. "Poor Daddy." She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. "I'm sorry."

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "S'okay. I understand." He grinned against her hair. "Although I'm not sure how I feel about you being so ready to believe I was, you know… 'like that'."

"What, gay?"

"Uh-huh." He pouted and sighed. "Man…"

"Well, most gay guys take care of themselves, you know." She patted his chest. "And you're in great shape. Handsome, too."

He laughed. "Is that all it takes?"

"Well, yes, that and a predilection to want to have…"

He held up his hand. "Okay. I get the picture. Enough already. Bad enough I gotta actually pretend to do this."

"You hate it?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, it has to be said, it's not my number one way to spend and evening. I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to be doing, half the time."

She smiled. "You want me to call Billy so he can give you some tips?"

"Uh-uh. No thanks."

She touched the end of his nose. "He'd *really* enjoy rehearsing with you."

Elliot frowned, batting her hand away. "Will you stop it? That's just nasty."

"Oh, I don't know. You always said we should help the police whenever we can." She pulled away and put her hand in her pocket. "I'll just give him a call."

"Oh, no you don't!"

"He'd be more than happy to help; in fact, it'd make his decade."

"Stop. I'm not going to be able to look him in the face again, now." He gave her his most stern look. "Maureen Stabler…"

She grinned and slipped her phone back in her pocket. "Okay, okay. Keep your pants on." She looked at his face and burst out laughing.

"Not such bad advice, y'think?"

Elliot shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "Thanks. I'll bear it mind the next time some guy wants to stick his tongue down my throat."

She squealed quietly and covered her mouth. "Oh, my God, I can't believe you said that!"

"Welcome to my world."

"Oh, Dad." She sat down next to him, a smirk on her face.

He looked at her trying to squash a very big grin. "What?"

She giggled. "Go on. Tell me."

"What?"

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

She snickered. "Kiss another guy."

"Maureen!"

"I won't tell anyone – honest!"

"Why would you want to know that?" He pulled a face. "God! How old are you?"

She grinned. "Older than you like to think."

He held up a finger. "No. I'm not going there."

"So, that means you did?"

"Enough!"

She poked his arm. "You did!"

"I did not!"

"Ooh! Defensive… Sounds like you're protesting too much, to me."

He rolled his eyes. "God! Will you leave it?"

"You embarrassed?"

"YES!" He stood up and paced in front of the sofa, holding the back of his neck in a tight grip.

A small hand rubbed his back. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm just teasing you."

Elliot turned around. "Yeah. I kinda got that." He mock-punched her on the nose. "You're a real comedian."

She smiled and kissed his knuckles. "I just got this really funny visual of my Dad making out with some big hairy biker."

Elliot winced. "Gee, thanks. I'm sure a therapist will have a ball with that, one day."

"Well, I don’t know about that, but it's really gonna give Billy a thrill."

"Don't you dare."

She laughed. "Relax. I don’t see him much. Besides; you could do better."

He smiled. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. You’re handsome, remember?"

"Ah, I remember, now. Okay; I’ll be sure to save myself for the right guy."

Her expression turned serious. "Tell me you’ll be careful, Dad? Don’t take any silly risks."

He hugged her tight. "I’ll be careful. I promise."

Elliot banged through the doors of the squad room.

"I tell you, Liv – having my eldest daughter in tears, convinced her father is light in the loafers is not an experience I want to repeat."

Olivia hid her smile. "I’m sure. Must have been quite a talk you two had."

He grunted. "The heart-to-heart wasn’t the worst of it. I’m still not over how easily she accepted the whole idea."

"What? She didn’t have a problem with you being ‘gay’?"

"She was more bothered that I hadn’t told her!" He slumped into his chair.

Olivia patted his shoulder. "Poor El."

"Yeah, well…" He flicked a pen across the desk. It landed on the floor and rolled over to rest at John’s feet.

Bending to retrieve the ballpoint, John looked up and peered over to Elliot.

"Speaking of experiences one cares not to repeat,; may I be so bold as to enquire as to why I found myself getting pornographic phone calls in the early hours of the morning?"

Fin snorted a laugh. "Phone-sex people got you mixed up with the conspiracy hot-line again?"

"One would imagine." He stared intently at Elliot, who just grinned back, arms folded. "Ordinarily, I would be happy to engage in a little idle banter, but it seemed that ‘Bob’ was most reluctant to believe I wasn’t someone called ‘Elliot’."

Behind him, Olivia poked her partner’s shoulder. "Must be some kind of crossed line, John. Hell of a co-incidence, though."

He lifted a brow. "There is no such thing as co-incidence."

"Sure, okay." She looked at her watch. "You think we should get going? It’s nearly ten."

Fin stood up and stretched. "Yeah. Let’s get it over with. I could do with a decent night’s sleep."

"You and me both." Munch threw the pen over to Elliot, who fumbled and dropped it. Olivia rolled her eyes and joined Fin at the door.

Munch held it open for Elliot, who smirked. "Thanks."

"My pleasure."

Elliot hurried through the door, wary of it banging shut on his ass.

They stood by the elevator, all gazing at the little light as it rose. Olivia glanced at her partner.

"You gonna wear that in the club?" she asked, nodding at the zippered Jacket.

"Nope. Gonna leave it in the car."

"Got the 'lucky shirt' on?"

"Nope." Elliot shook his head and waved her into the elevator in front of him. "Thought I’d go for what most of the other guys were wearing."

They all stood looking at him as they descended to the ground floor.

"Well?" Olivia folded her arms.

Elliot shrugged. "I’m going with minimalist," he said with an enigmatic smile.

"Talk to me, guys. What's happening?"

Fin brought his hand up to shield his mouth. "It's hot, dark and I got a headache."

Olivia snorted down the wire. "Yeah? My heart bleeds. My ass went to sleep two hours ago, and I'm so bored I'm gonna start chewing the upholstery."

Fin smiled. "Least you ain't getting' your hearin' impaired and sexual boundaries stretched."

"Might be a nice change."

"Sorry, babe – ain't no girlies in here. Just us boys."

"I could pass as a tranny."

Fin began to cough to hide his laughter. "Sorry to disillusion you, but I don't think so."

"Awww. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Tutuola. How's El doing?"

Fin glanced up to where Elliot was standing in the middle of the room by a mirrored pillar. "Things are kinda slow, tonight. He's getting' the looks, but no-ones made a move yet."

Olivia laughed softly, "Maybe the wife-beater was a mistake."

"Oh, I don't know; it shows off the merchandise."

There was a rude snort down the line. "Well, maybe the tattoos are a put-off."

"I doubt it."

Shaking his head, Fin sipped his drink and went back to staring out across the crowd. Munch was out of range, down at the far end of the bar, so he was down a conversation partner. And an alibi.

He'd had three offers so far – none of which were to his taste.

He wondered how many Munch had gotten, if any.

Elliot placed his empty glass on a nearby ledge and stared out across the dancing throng. He was trying to exude an air of mysterious danger, but it seemed to be having an adverse effect. No-one had approached him all night.

He smiled to himself. It might be counter-productive to the case, but it was giving him some much-needed breathing space.

As if listening in to his thoughts, a man stepped up to stand well within his comfort-zone. Elliot turned and stared at him.

The man stared back, an expression of measured indifference on his face.

Elliot jerked his chin up in silent question.

The guy narrowed his eyes, said nothing but inched closer, brushing his arm against Elliot's.

Elliot squared his shoulders, going for tough-guy mode. He folded his arms and expanded his chest, feeling like something primal off the Wildlife Channel.

The other guy's eyes flashed a little, whether in interest or anger, Elliot couldn't tell. He just raised a lazy eyebrow in reply.

The music pounded and the lights blinking on and off in time with their silent posturing; Elliot was on the verge of laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation, when his world snapped tightly and contracted down to where a hand had snaked between his legs and cupped his package.

His eyes popped open wide in shock.

The hand squeezed gently, fingers massaging and his teeth snapped together, narrowly missing the sides of his tongue.

He gripped his hands on his biceps, forcing himself not to uncoil and slam his fists into the guy. He ground his teeth back and forth, still staring at the man who held his most precious possessions in his hand.

Articles that no-one but his ex-wife and several doctors had ever laid hands on.

As quickly as it violated his privacy, the hand moved away. Clearly Elliot had not responded in the required way. The breath hissed between his teeth in silent relief as the man walked into the crowd.

His eyes snapped back and forth to see if anyone had witnessed the exchange – straight into a wide, toothy grin. As the face slotted into a pigeon-hole in his memory, the kid winked at him and Elliot's heart stuttered.

It was Billy from Maureen's college. He swore several times under his breath and began to weave his way through the crowd, hurrying across to the grinning kid. Hopefully he hadn't said anything to any of the patrons in the club.

"Hey, there, Mr. Stabler," Billy said conversationally as Elliot stood in front of him, chest heaving, slightly out of breath from pushing through the crowd.

"You're Billy Fields," Elliot said.

The young man nodded. "That's me."

Elliot glanced about. "I talked to Maureen."

The kid laughed. "I bet you did. Sorry – I couldn't resist outing you."

"You're not…"

"I know. She called me." The two men stared at one another, both measuring each other up. Elliot had least 60 pounds and five inches on the kid, but his glare seemed to have no effect on Billy at all. He just leaned insolently against the wall, his hand pushed down the waistband of jeans that hung off a skinny frame.

"Okay, so you know I'm not here…" Elliot began.

"You're working, she said." The boy tilted his head.

Elliot nodded, looking around and speaking low. "Yeah. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep that to yourself."

The kid laughed, and Elliot frowned. One skinny shoulder shrugged. "Why the hell should I?"

Elliot was at a momentary loss. "I'm on official…"

"Oh, who cares? Fuck official."

"What did you say?"

Taking two fingers and flicking a rolled-up sliver of gum-paper over Elliot's shoulder, Billy jerked his chin. "I said 'fuck official'."

Elliot tightened his mouth and leaned in, placing one hand on the wall above the kid's head. He crowded into his personal space, using a classic intimidation stance.

"Listen," he hissed. "If I have to haul your skinny ass in…"

"Oh, yeah? For what?" The kid didn't seem the least bit concerned.

"Obstruction, for starters," Elliot growled.

The kid sneered a laugh and ran his eyes over Elliot's body. "Yeah, right. You really think you could get outta here without me screamin' all to hell what you are? Get real, Pretty Eyes." He pushed his chest out slightly in an overtly sexual gesture.

Elliot frowned hard and leaned back a shade. He could feel his grip on his temper loosening.

"Just keep your mouth shut, okay, kid?"

"Make me." Billy looked around and grinned. Taking a breath he began to shout. "Hey! He's a c…." He never got to finish the word, as a big hand clamped over his mouth.

"Shuddup!" Elliot hissed, furious. He glanced around, but no-one seemed to be taking any notice of them. Slowly, he loosened his grip, guarding in case the kid yelled again.

He leaned close and whispered in a pierced ear. "Billy?"

"What?"

"Don't make me hurt you."

"Are you *threatening* me?"

"Oh…" Elliot breathed into his ear. "Absolutely."

"You know, Mr. Stabler, I could report you." Billy smiled, still cool and calm, despite Elliot's face dangerously close to his.

"I could get you jammed up with an investigation for intimidation and threatening behaviour."

Elliot spoke barely moving his lips. "You're endangering an operation."

"I'm minding my own business. You started on me."

"I'm warning you to back off and shut the hell up."

"And I'm warning you that I might just feel like spreading the good news to everyone." He winked.

"Don't push me."

Billy laughed. "God, you're so fuckin' butch I could come in my pants just looking at you."

Elliot snatched his head back and stared, open-mouthed.

Billy grinned and winked again, a calculating gleam in his eye.

"So… Now that you're paying attention, actually, there *is* a way you can make me shut up."

Elliot frowned, still trying to process the previous remark. "What?"

The kid licked his lips. "Use your mouth."

The music changed and was well into another song before Elliot spoke.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, his face betraying that he had a good idea what Billy meant.

"Kiss me."

Recoiling, Elliot pulled a face. "Fuck you."

"Yes please, but I'd settle for a little tongue."

Elliot worked his jaw hard before he ground out his words. "You go to school with my daughter, for Christ's sake."

"Relax, I ain't gonna tell her - she don’t lift my frock none." Billy placed his hand on Elliot's chest. "But you, Daddy Stabler; I'd get on my knees for you." He squeezed his hand, digging his nails in.

Lightening-fast, Elliot wrapped his hand around a thin wrist and squeezed hard. "Don't fuckin' touch me," he growled.

Billy just laughed. "Ooh, aren't we the big, bad poli…" Elliot's hand shot up to cover his mouth again.

"I'm warning you…" he said, furious.

Billy snatched his head free and narrowed his eyes viciously. "And I'm warning *you*."

He stood up straighter and began to look around the club as if preparing himself to start raising hell.

"You pissy little shit."

"Sticks and stones." Billy sneered. "Well? C'mon. You choose which it's gonna be."

Elliot stood perfectly still through almost a complete track of music, his jaw working back and forth, weighing up the cocky kid on front of him. There was no way he was going to be able to get his skinny ass out of the club without either making a huge spectacle of themselves or blowing his cover.

"Hey, gorgeous - I'm not getting any younger," Billy sighed, leaning back against the wall with the air of a man who knows he's already won. "Pucker up. Handsome."

Munch slipped into the space next to Fin and nodded over the crowd. "Looks like 'you know who' has taken the plunge into method-acting."

Fin grunted and turned to look into the crowd.

Across the dance floor, Elliot was leaning in to some blond kid's personal space. There didn't appear to be room for so much as a cigarette paper between them.

He watched with morbid fascination and not a little admiration for Elliot's new-found commitment to the case as the detective moved his hand to clutch the nape of the kid's neck. And as Fin stood and stared, Elliot lowered his head and deliberately placed his mouth on the blond's.

Fin blinked. In his ear, Olivia's voice squawked and crackled.

"Hey – I'm still really bored. What's happenin' guys?"

Fin tried to speak, but the words to describe seeing his colleague kissing another man on the mouth were absent.

"I am seriously impressed," Munch mused, staring intently. "I didn't think he had it in him."

"Yeah…" Fin said softly. "Holy shit."

"Fin?" Talk to me! What's happening?"

Fin cleared his throat. "Er…"

"If you don't speak to me, I'm comin' in."

"No!" Fin looked down at his chest. "No… Better not." He looked over at Munch, hoping for help, but the other man was still riveted to the scene against the opposite wall.

"What's up?"

"Nothin'. Elliot's just…" He glanced up – Elliot appeared to be glaring at the kid, his normally intimidating expression having no visible effect; the kid was chatting away, grinning from ear to ear.

Fin swallowed hard.

"Um… El's just busy… workin' it, okay?"

Munch glanced at him, his eyebrow raised in silent question. Fin glared back.

"He's okay, Liv. Nothin's happening." He ignored the way his partner was peering round at him, his eyebrows arched.

"So what's he doing?"

"He's.. er.." Fin looked up. "He's just chillin'."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Relax. He's cool."

Munch placed his drink on the bar. "He certainly is. Now I *know* I've seen everything."

Fin looked at him and pushed his hand over his teeshirt, blocking the mike. "We can't tell her."

Munch's eyebrows rose with a smile. "Why ever not?"

"She…" Fin frowned. "I don't know. It's just wrong. It ain't none of her business."

"She *is* his partner."

"Yeah, but still…" Fin shook his head.

"You think Elliot wouldn't want her to know, is that it?"

Fin glanced at Elliot. "Yeah. Somethin' like that."

"Whaddya call that?" Billy grinned as Elliot moved away. There was no reply except a nasty glare, so he rolled his eyes and sighed. "You can do better than that, man. Gimme some tongue."

Elliot pulled a pained face. "Fuck you."

"Uh-uh. Play nice." He grinned more widely. "Once more, with feelin', man then I'm outta here."

"You'll leave?"

"Scout's honour."

Elliot swallowed hard and gritted his teeth, struggling with his pride.

He made a small choking noise in the back of his throat and leaned forward.

"Do it like you mean it, this time."

Closing his eyes tightly, Elliot touched his lips to Billy's, trying to block out the reality of what he was doing. Trying to ignore the slight rasp of beard and the already moist lips.

"More," Billy breathed against his mouth.

With a sick feeling of inevitability, Elliot swallowed what remained of his pride and brought his hand up to cup the side of the slim face.

His nose brushed the kid's cheek as he dug in and gave the kiss his best shot.

"Do you think he's enjoying that?" Munch asked casually.

"Not even remotely," Fin replied.

"Sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay, then."

Elliot leaned back and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. He was slightly breathless.

Billy stared up at him. His mouth still hung open from the kiss, his bottom lip glistening. Slowly, his tongue came out to run along the skin, tasting the moisture.

"Man," He said softly.

"Now get outta here," Elliot said hoarsely. "Beat it."

Billy smiled and pulled himself off the wall. His hand came up and hovered over Elliot's chest. He was a hair's breadth from touching.

"Don't even think about it." Elliot jerked his head. "Get out."

Hesitating at the sharp tone, Billy shrugged and moved in to stroke a finger over one nipple. "Maybe I should find out if Maureen inherited your technique." He laughed as Elliot flinched away.

Elliot's face hardened, his voice shaking as he spoke. "Don't you fucking *touch* her. No; don't even speak to her, you got that?"

"Whatever." Grinning, Billy winked. "See ya around, Sexy," Billy blew a kiss back as he moved off through the crowd.

Elliot watched him carefully as he left. One word to anyone in either direction and he would run over there and personally beat the living shit out of the little runt.

He watched as Billy slipped from the club and into the night.

Heaving a sigh, he stared down at his feet. No way was he lucky enough that Fin and John hadn't seen that.

Real life didn't work like that. He wondered what they thought of it. Of him.

He wasn't sure what he thought of himself, at this point.

"I thought you didn't do that?"

Elliot blinked a couple of times before he realized someone was addressing him. He looked up. Bob stood in front of him, his body language confrontational.

"Well?"

Elliot frowned. "Sorry. I was miles away. What?"

"I said: I thought you didn't do that." Bob was pissed off.

The fog in Elliot's head cleared and he shifted, uncomfortable. "Oh. That." He shrugged. "So what?"

Bob stared at him. "A bit young for you, don't you think?"

Elliot scowled. "I don't see as that's any of your goddamned business."

Bob gave him the skunk eye. "Into fresh meat, huh? Guess I'm too old, then."

Elliot grinned. "Nah – I just hate facial hair."

He forced himself to walk away, trying to conjure up a cocky swagger, when his insides were still churning.

"Asshole," he heard from behind, but didn't rise to the bait, just kept walking away. Bob was right. He was an asshole.

Pushing through the crowd, not making eye contact with anyone he was overcome by the desperate urge to wash his face.

He pushed his way inside the club's bathroom, ignoring the catcalls and lurid suggestions from the men standing outside.

In the relative oasis of the fluorescent lighting, he stood in front of a hand basin and stared at himself in the mirror.

His hands clutched the edge of the sink, anchoring him to reality.

"Fuck…" he whispered to himself, pretending he was talking about the dark circles under his eyes and not the expression shining out of them.

He stared at the man in front of him and tried to see any evidence of what had just taken place.

No whisker burn. No bite marks.

His intellect told him there wouldn't be any outward sign, but his masculinity fairly screamed there was, ignoring his sense of reason that said that one kiss wasn't big deal.

He swallowed and licked his lips.

Two kisses, actually - but still no big deal, he told himself firmly.

Gradually, his breathing evened out and his focus expanded from his reflection to over his shoulder, where he could see movement.

Behind him, two men were kissing furiously, grabbing at one another's bodies, thrusting against the wall.

Elliot watched dispassionately for a few minutes, gauging his reaction critically. It was both hardly a surprise and a huge relief that watching them making out did nothing for him.

He grunted and turned on the faucet with a snap of his wrist.

The water ran ice cold over his hands.

Bending his head, he cupped the freezing liquid and bathed his face, washing away the residual unease and the hint of another man's aftershave.

As he looked back up, the two men were beginning to engage in a lewd act, one of the men on his knees.

He was certain the cop inside him should be jumping up and down in outrage, but for the life of him he couldn't muster anything more than vague disquiet over the cleanliness of the bathroom floor.

"Jesus…" he muttered, shaking his head, more at himself than the blow-job he was witnessing. Water dripped unchecked off his chin down his chest.

A tired and ragged sigh trickled out of him. He really needed a decent night's sleep.

Beside him, someone else was washing his hands. Elliot ignored him, staring into the hand basin, watching the water swirl down the drain.

"You think they get paid extra to do that?" Munch asked, watching one man ritually humiliating another with a riding crop.

"Probably not." Fin reached over the bar to grab a napkin. He wiped up the rings his glass had left behind with a sigh.

"You aren't looking at what I'm looking at," Munch complained.

"I don't need, or want to."

"Touchy."

"No, just tired."

"Least you're not having to dance your little ass off like our esteemed companion."

Fin frowned and looked right then left. "Where is he?"

Munch ripped his eyes away from the floor show. "What?"

"Elliot. Where'd he go?"

Munch scanned back and forth, his greater height helping.

"Dunno. I can't see him."

They looked at one another and put their drinks down.

"You go that way; check out behind the stage and the bar. I'll do the floor and the men's room." Fin moved away, the fact that Munch hadn't made a crack about going into the bathroom the gave away that losing sight of Elliot wasn't funny.

The touch of a hand in the small of his back ought to have made Elliot jump; the fact that it hadn't, was testament to his fatigue and resignation.

"Nice," the owner of the hand said. The hand ran from between Elliot's shoulder blades to the top of his jeans.

His head bowed down, Elliot sighed. This was shaping up to be the longest night of his life.

He didn't move, didn't respond, hoping the man would give up and go away.

"You have great lats." The one hand became two that gripped either side of Elliot's back, massaging the muscles that ran down his sides.

"You must work out."

Well, ignoring the guy wasn't working. Elliot closed his eyes tightly for a second, then stood straight, giving the man behind him his best glare in the mirror.

Smiling dark eyes looked back at him over his shoulder.

Six feet tall, blond hair, average build; the cop part of Elliot's brain logged the necessary details, while the peeved heterosexual part noted the big hands roaming over his body, the feel of another man's breath on his skin.

"Hey, there, gorgeous." The guy winked.

Elliot said nothing.

"I saw you before." The head tilted a little. "You know. The other night. You're hot."

Elliot tensed. The man had wormed his hands around to the front, touching and rubbing, but it was his words that set off his alarm bells.

"Oh, yeah?" he said at last.

"Uh-huh. Gotta say I was very excited to see you tonight, because I *really* like what I see." He grabbed both of Elliot's pecs and squeezed, pressing his body close.

Biting his bottom lip, Elliot stayed still, allowing the contact. He stared in the mirror and swallowed, feeling evidence of the guy's interest digging in between his ass cheeks. His hands gripped the edges of the wash basin.

"So… you interested?" The man whispered against the back of his neck.

Barely moving his lips, Elliot raised an eyebrow. "In?"

The hands moved with slow, deliberate intent down to his belly, then with well-practised ease, lifted up the hem and snaked up the inside of his wife beater.

Elliot couldn't help the little jump and shiver that his body gave at the skin on skin contact.

Over his shoulder, the man grinned.

"Oh, I'd say you know damned well; and that you *are* interested." Buried under cotton, his fingers sought out nipples and pinched.

Elliot winced, his hand coming up to grab one of the offending hands. He forced himself not to break any wrist bones.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not." He inhaled and released the hand. "Depends what you got in mind."

He decided he deserved either a fucking big pay rise or an Oscar for this performance.

"Come outside and I'll show you." The man put out his tongue and still maintaining eye contact, licked up the back of Elliot's neck.

The venue, rather than the hot breath and saliva on his neck raised goose-bumps over Elliot's flesh. The man grinned.

"Outside?" Elliot croaked out.

"Uh-huh." The man nodded. "What I got in mind requires a little privacy." He flicked his eyes over to the other occupants of the restroom. Elliot's eyes followed. The blow job was still in progress, the participants clearly unconcerned about their audience.

Underneath his shirt, the hands were kneading Elliot's chest. One began to slither downwards, hovering at the waist of his jeans.

Elliot's breath began to pick up in reaction.

The man pressed closer, mistaking panic for excitement. "Come outside with me. I'll make you feel good."

The fingers slipped gently under the waistband, tickling Elliot's tense belly. "Oh, I can make you feel soooo good."

"I don't…" he began.

"Of course you do." The man leaned in and opened his mouth, placing his teeth on the neck in front of him. He bit down and sucked a little too firmly for Elliot's taste.

"Ow! Fuck!" He pulled away slightly.

"Not into rough?"

"No." Elliot replied, snappily.

"Okay. No proble