Bensler Oneshots

The Motel

"You have got to be kidding me," Olivia says through clenched teeth, eyeing the faded building.

The cloudy night does horrible things to the motel's appearance. Only a flickering street light illuminates the washed out white walls and dirty windows.

"This looks like something straight out of a horror movie. We're gonna die here, Elliot," Olivia adds.

"It's too late to do anything about it now," Elliot says, hefting his duffle bag out of the trunk.

She sighs, doing the same and following him into the motel.

......

"It's 313." Elliot drops the key into her hand as she's clearly in a hurry.

Olivia takes the key and speeds off, leaving him to follow this time. He knew she wouldn't like it, this cheap motel, but at this hour, finding a more suitable place to spend the night was next to impossible. Not that he's looking forward to the next argument this will incite; he could only get a room with one bed.

"How is this gonna work?" she asks, gesturing toward the bed.

He's just made it through the door, locking it behind him. "I'll take the chair."

Olivia laughs. It's far from genuine. "Yeah, right. I'll be dealing with grouchy Grandpa Stabler tomorrow when your back is killing you."

"Grandpa Stabler?" he repeats, clearly offended.

"You're pushing fifty. Don't act like you can sleep on a hardback chair and still move the next morning," she replies.

Elliot rolls his eyes. "You're not that much younger than me. You going to take the chair?"

"Of course not. We'll both sleep on the bed. I just meant to inform you that you better stay on your own side," Olivia says, all snark.

"I better stay on my side?" he replies. "I have it on good intel that you're a snuggler."

She snorts. "As if."

Olivia leaves the conversation at that, heading into the bathroom. When she emerges, Elliot is stretched out on the bed, watching cable on the ancient television. She sees that he hasn't even bothered to take off his shoes, gives him a death glare. He pretends not to notice, jumping up to take his turn in the bathroom. When he's done, he opens the door to find that she's turned off the TV and the lights, leaving the room in pitch black.

"How'm I supposed to see anything, Liv?" he asks, switching the bathroom light back on.

"Not my problem. You took an eternity in there. I need sleep," she answers.

Elliot rolls his eyes. This woman will be the death of him. Gathering his bearings, he turns the bathroom light back off and walks slowly to the bed. When he sits down, Olivia rolls over with a huff.

"Do you mind letting go of the comforter?" he hisses, finding that she has jerked all of the bed covers over to her side.

"Have at it," she replies, and he pulls the freed comforter over his body, praying that he can get some sleep tonight.

After a few minutes, Olivia rolls over again, this time to face Elliot. He groans, knowing she's about to complain about something.

"You're awfully close to me, Stabler. Move over," Olivia says, annoyance evident.

"I'm a big guy. It's only a full sized bed. Where do you want me to go? The floor?"

"You can't tell me there's no more space over there."

"There isn't. Why don't you move over?" Elliot replies.

"I'm on the edge as it is," Olivia says.

"Then, deal with it."

"I am not sleeping this close to you. Your arm is touching mine."

"I am on my own side," Elliot groans. "What more do you want?"

"I can't have you touching me."

He hisses, sitting up. "God knows I'm not doing it on purpose."

"Really?" she fairly shouts.

"For God's sake, Olivia, it's a small bed. I'll sleep on the chair!" Elliot returns, throwing off the comforter.

"No!" She grabs his arm.

He stops, asking incredulously: "What? Make up your mind. What do you want?"

"I don't know!" Olivia shouts.

As Elliot struggles to interpret the meaning of her words, a muffled voice interrupts: "Keep it down! Some of us trying to sleep!"

The fact that they are responsible for disturbing the other guests becomes ridiculously amusing. Both burst into laughter, their argument forgotten, if only for a moment.

Elliot lies back down, tentatively waiting for Olivia's protest, but she doesn't say anything, just lies down beside him, not complaining when their arms touch.

......

Olivia sighs as she opens her eyes, the bleary room comes into focus lit by the sunlight streaming in through the window. And then, there's Elliot. He's right there. His face is inches away and his body is pressed right up against hers. She shrieks, jerking away and falling off the bed with a crash. She hisses in pain as she picks herself up off the floor, hoping that he hasn't woken up, that he has no idea how close they were. There's no such hope. When Olivia puts her hands on the bed to pull herself up, she comes face to face with Elliot.

"You really shouldn't make a habit of falling off the bed, Liv. You're not getting any younger. Brittle bones break easy," he says, a smirk on his face.

"Shut up. Just shut up," Olivia replies, standing and turning to walk to the bathroom.

Elliot grabs her arm. "Hold up. You owe me an apology."

"What?" She jerks to try and free her arm.

"I was right. You are a snuggler."

Olivia feels her face burn and gives one hard pull to free her arm before she stalks off to the bathroom. Elliot just watches her go, laughing to himself.