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2020-11-05
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Doctor Huang's Comfortable Christmas

Summary:

Fandom: Law&Order: SVU
Pairing: George/Elliot
Rating: FRT - slash implied
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made.

Work Text:




Doctor Huang's Comfortable Christmas
by Sam-Tony


Scribbling his signature at the bottom of the release form, Doctor George Huang dropped the case file, one among the many he still had to look at tonight, into the Out tray, making sure not to catch the cords of his ear plugs as he did so. Who ever heard of a 40 year old FBI profiler and doctor of psychiatry still at the office at a quarter to ten on Christmas Eve, evaluating sex offenders while listening to Melissa Etheridge, anyway?

"One that doesn't want to get laid." George chuckled, reaching for another file, even as his eyes automatically strayed to the discreet clock on the wall beside the large potted fichus. He should have enough time to skim through this one last case before Elliot would be getting off shift. What would he be doing at home anyway; besides sitting in his office *there* while the police scanner crackled its static in the background, broken only by sharp bursts of mundane cop shop talk...

The presents to Liv and the rest of the squad gathering at Craigan's home for Christmas dinner had all been wrapped, and George had bought his gift for El weeks ago. Of course, he could always go home and surprise Elliot with dinner for a change...

Leaning back in his chair at that thought, the file in his hand now forgotten, George let his mind further that image; following it out through a nice, leisurely dinner of salad, steak and baked potatoes, the table set with lighted tapers, and the lights off. Afterward, they could catch a late rerun of A Christmas Story, snuggled together in front of the fire with a relaxing glass of wine while necking under the blanket like teenagers. That would lead to El fumbling with the remote, plunging the room into darkness, with only by the dying flames of the fire left to guide them to the bedroom...

Smiling at the foregone result of *that*, which would inevitably include both of them disheveled, messy and quite happily exhausted, George replaced the file in the short pile of work to be done after the holidays, stood and stretched, feeling no less than a few vertebra crack and settle back into place. He definitely wasn't as young as he used to be.

Of course, all that would change upon his first glance at Elliot in...well anything, really. Apparently his libido didn't realize he was a little too old to be salivating like a teenager whenever Elliot walked into the room; whether he be wearing a suit, an NYPD t-shirt after basketball with Fin, or just coming out of the shower in nothing but a towel...

Shaking his head as he lifted the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder and turned out the lights, George made sure his door was locked before pocketing the keys. Elliot wasn't exactly a teenager either, but though there may be a little more bulk around the middle, George knew very well that it was all muscle; solid from years in the gym, on the street, doing his job, keeping the city safe. Just the thought of that bulk holding him down, driving him crazy or cradling him through the night, did things to his emotions that sometimes left him dizzy.

Calling Merry Christmas to Jack on night security, George shivered as he hit the fresh air that was a good 40 degrees cooler than that of the FBI building, and tightened his coat around him, his mind already formulating and discarding several ways he could greet his lover at the door when El got home. He snorted softly. Didn't all the best psychologists say, in order to keep your love life interesting, you should always be open to trying new things?

It was snowing when he pulled out of the garage and turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue, trying to decide what he wanted to do - or do first. While opening the door naked in just an apron certainly had its appeal, he doubted they would ever eat dinner if he opted for that one. His stomach put in its vote, grumbling darkly, and he reluctantly agreed that tonight he might want to settle for comfortable: meet his lover at the door in a soft sweater and jeans, dinner and candles in the background, and a warm, cozy fire in the fireplace. Replace Bing Crosby with jazz in the CD player...

Maybe for New Years' he would pull out the silk sheets, champagne and new jelly vibrator. After all, weren't they now saying that 40 was the new 20?

...end...

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