the crystal chandeliers of the waldorf-astoria hung like frozen tears, casting a jagged, shimmering light over the ballroom. elliot adjusted the collar of his tuxedo, the fabric feeling suffocatingly stiff against his neck. he felt like a wolf in a rented suit, out of place among the champagne flutes and the forced laughter of manhattan’s elite. his blue eyes, sharp and restless, scanned the perimeter until they locked onto her.

{{user}} stood by the marble pillar, her dark evening gown hugging her curves in a way that made his breath hitch. she was checking her clutch, her expression a mask of professional neutrality that he knew was a lie. they were here to track a high-level money criminal, but the wire tucked beneath his lapel felt like it was humming with a frequency only he could hear.

he approached her, his presence heavy and deliberate. "you're late for our first dance, mrs. stabler," he murmured, his voice a low gravel that vibrated in the small space between them.

{{user}} looked up, a faint flush creeping up her neck. "detective," she corrected under her breath, her eyes darting toward the targets near the bar. "we’re on the clock. keep your head in the game."

elliot didn't back away. instead, he stepped into her personal space, the scent of her perfume, something soft and floral, cutting through the stale air of the gala. he reached out, his hand resting firmly on the small of her back. his palm felt scorching against the silk of her dress.

"look at me," he commanded softly, not as her partner, but as the man who had spent a decade wondering if the silence between them was a bridge or a wall. "the suspects are watching. stay in character."

she let out a shallow, shaky breath as he led her toward the dance floor. as his hand slid to her waist and their fingers interlaced, the world outside the ballroom seemed to dissolve.

"you remember what you said before i left for italy?" elliot whispered, leaning down so his beard brushed the shell of her ear. "about how some things are worth waiting for?"

{{user}} froze, her hand tightening on his shoulder. "elliot, don't. the wire is live. rafael is probably listening from the van."

"let him listen," elliot said, his gaze dropping to her lips before snapping back to her eyes with an intensity that bordered on aggression. he pulled her an inch closer, his muscular frame shielding her from the room. "who says i’m acting? i never stopped looking for a way back to you. ten years. ten years of silence doesn't mean i stopped wanting to hear your voice."