DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. I would like to own them but they belong to Dick Wolf. I would argue that I would take better care of them than Mr. Wolf but, well, I suppose that is a matter of opinion and he has more money anyway. So as far as fanfic goes, I write these for fun (and, well, out of boredom honestly), so I don't make any money and, to my knowledge, am not breaking any copyright laws.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Breaking The Pattern
By Elise McGonagall


Here we are again like a ritual, like some perverted native mating dance. Always the same.

Same bar: some swanky cocktail joint where under normal circumstances I would never go even though it's four blocks from my apartment.

Same drink: Manhattan for me, some girly drink for you. It's pink and sweet and comes with an umbrella and extra cherries.

Same line: We have two drinks without speaking. Then after two, always after two, you lean in. "Take me home, Detective," you whisper seductively.

I settle the tab and we are out the door quickly walking the four blocks to my little apartment. No touching until we are inside and the lock clicks. Before I can put my keys down, I am against the door in an all-consuming kiss. We break for air and you grab my hand, smiling your secret smile, and leading me into the bedroom where we will spend the next hour at least in the throws of passion. When it's over you lie in my arms until you think that I am sleeping then sneak out and we don't talk about it again. We never talk about it. We just do it.

So here we are again, in the same bar nursing our second drinks. It occurs to me that I have never seen your apartment and for some reason it bothers me. I silently promise myself that I won't let it happen again, but I've made that promise many times before and usually it only takes one look before it all goes to hell. I look over and see your glass is still half-full so I down my Manhattan and order a Jack and Coke. A break in the routine that I hope will give the confidence to enact some change. I catch a small flicker of confusion on your face but you're far too good of an attorney to give anything up that easily. Slowly you finish your drink and look up from your glass. You tilt your head and look up at me with those blue eyes full of passion and lust. "Take me home, Detective." I swallow.

I want to take you home. I want to have my way with you like every other time, telling myself that it doesn't matter if it's nothing more than meaningless sex, but I know that's not true. I'm not sure exactly what the truth is but I know I can't do this anymore. "No," I reply simply. This time there is no hiding the confusion. You open your mouth then close it again and I know I need to get the hell out of there. I pull some money out of my pocket for the drinks and high tail it out the door not looking back.

I practically run to my apartment, slamming the door behind me and throwing the keys on the coffee table. What the hell is wrong with you, Benson? Sure it's fucked up, but at least you get to be with her. I mentally beat myself up. All those one night stands and meaningless sexual encounters with strangers, how is this any different? Because it's Alex. So what?

I try to forget you. I try to tell myself that it has nothing to do with the fact that perhaps I want a little more from my relationship with you like, well, a relationship not just some fucked up silent fuck buddy agreement. I fall back on the couch and try to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Whatever I had or didn't have with Alexandra Cabot, I really fucked it up now. A pounding knock on the door breaks through my brooding thoughts. I open it to find you looking quite confused and more than a little angry. Without saying a word, you push through the door and park yourself on the edge of the couch. I close the door and follow, sitting on the opposite edge as far away from you as humanly possible. The silence is deafening and it lasts forever. Finally, you speak.

"What the hell was that?" You're angrier than I thought you were but I sense something else. Hurt, maybe? "Do I repulse you?"

What? I think past encounters speak to the contrary. Do you think I could fuck you the way I do if you repulsed me? "No, of course not."

"Then what the hell just happened?"

"Look, Alex, I know that we have this nice little routine or whatever…"

"Routine?" You actually look genuinely confused. Oh come on, I mean I realize I'm the detective but a blind man could spot this pattern from a mile away.

"We go out; we have drinks. We come home; we have sex."

"Isn't that called dating?"

"You call this dating? We never talk."

"Well, no, I suppose not." You frown as if the thought has never occurred to you before. What the hell, Alex, you're smarter than this? Far smarter than this. "I always figured you didn't want to." Wow, that one came as a shocker.

"What? Why?"

"You never seemed like you wanted to. You just stare into your drink all sullen until I suggest we go home then we have wild sex and you go to sleep."

"You leave!"

"You're asleep!"

"We can't sleep together?"

"You never gave any indication that you wanted to! Besides I've heard about your reputation 'Love 'em and Leave 'em Benson.' Just fucking, nothing more." You nearly spit the words out in anger. I can feel the blood drain from my face. So that was it, you left before I could ask you to leave. Sure, I had slept around and kicked many a lover out of my bed after the sex was through, but I never thought that it would one day bite me in the ass. Stupid me.

"Is that what you thought? You thought you were just another notch on my belt?"

"Well, aren't I?" You look almost scared.

"Why do you keep coming back?"

"I don't know," you sigh and shrug, "Because having you this way is better than not having you at all." I smile. I don't know why but I break out into the big goofy grin. "What?" You ask looking slightly hurt.

"You like me."

"No shit."

"Well I like you too. A lot." It's your turn to smile. "So…what does this mean?" I ask suddenly feeling very shy.

You look at me for a moment then sigh again, "I don't know."

"What if I asked you on a date? A real one with dinner and talking."

"I would pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming."

Ouch. Well, what the hell? I reached over and pinch you.

"Ow! What the hell was that about?"

"You're not dreaming."

You rub your arm where I pinched you and stare at the red blotch for a second then look back at me, "Okay."

"I'll pick you up at 7 on Friday?"

"Assuming I don't have plans?"

"Well do you?"


"Well you do now," I smile again. You smile back this time and I lean forward and capture your lips with my own gently pushing you back on the couch. When we part you slide from under me and lead me once again to the bedroom. For the first time in my life, I actually take my time. We explore each other's bodies slowly and deliberately and I have to say it is probably the best sex of my life. When it's over you lie in my arms and for the first time we drift asleep together.

The End

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