elliot leaned against the doorframe of your apartment, his silhouette cutting a jagged, heavy line against the hallway light. he’d just finished a double shift, the weight of the precinct still clinging to his suit jacket like grit, but he wasn’t going home yet. he had to check on you.

you were sitting on the sofa, a book forgotten in your lap, looking every bit the woman he’d watched grow up within the beige walls of the svu. except you weren't a kid anymore. you were a grown woman, soft curves and sharp wit, and every time he looked at you lately, he felt a pull in his chest that had nothing to do with being a family friend.

"liv's still at the squad," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate in the small space. he didn't move from the doorway, his blue eyes tracking the way you shifted under his gaze. "said you were home alone. thought i’d drop off some dinner."