TITLE: The Language Of Dance

AUTHOR: E.C.

RATING: G, this one's tame.

FANDOM: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit

PAIRING: Benson/Fin

ARCHIVE: Peja, 'tis all yours, everyone else just let me know so I can gloat

WARNINGS: None. Venture forth with a light heart, my sons and daughters in fanfic...no spoilers, just a kernel of angst/sap, and het. This IS my first L& O:SVU fic, though, so if it sucks...ya know why. ;)

SUMMARY: A tongue-tied Fin confronts his feelings for a co-worker after hours. Written in response to Peja's 15 minute "dance" challenge.

For Peja, Queen Of The Challenges, and for NBC, who put SVU back in its Friday night time slot. Also for USA who's airin' it every night. Gots to have me my Meloni fix! *evil grin*

The Language Of Dance
By E.C.

Fluid and graceful...relaxed and smiling...God, she was beautiful.

Fin had never been much of a talker. Oh, he could spout a good game on the job, and he gave his partner a fair share of good-natured ribbing...but outside of work, he never did have a real knack for communicating.

But Olivia Benson...she was good with words...with any type of communication. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get her point across. Words, writing...

...dance...

He could read it in her body language now. That's why he was sitting in the middle of Mulligan's while John went off on his MIB theories again, watching Olivia dance with some nameless man to the tune of the jukebox...every movement a study in sensuous perfection. Every gesture communicated something...her joy, her ease, her natural effervescence.

Fin wasn't sure when he realized that he was developing a thing for Olivia Benson...at first he'd simply respected her skill as a cop, her ability to handle the traumatic stresses of life in SVU. He remembered thinking she'd have done well in Narcotics...if she could handle catching pedophiles and rapists like he'd seen, she could run drug dealers in with one hand tied behind her back.

Then as he started working with her more closely, he began to enjoy her company, the biting wit and charm she hid under her usual 'cop face.' He began looking forward to those cases that would throw them together however briefly...the chance to be near her, to listen to her and relate in one of the few ways he felt completely comfortable with.

And in all these years...he still had NO idea how she felt about him. She might feel the same...he might not have a prayer...but he just didn't know.

Now he sat, watching her dance...and he knew there was one way he could find out.

"'Scuse me, John." Fin murmured absently, rising from his seat even as Munch protested somewhere in the background. He strode over to the clear span of dance floor Olivia and her companion were occupying, swaying slowly to some dark, bluesy ballad.

Fin reached out, tapping her partner on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?"

The other man turned around, eyeing Fin balefully but unable to withstand the intensity of the detective. He reluctantly surrendered his spot, stepping aside.

Fin turned and gazed into Olivia's eyes, smiling slightly as he offered her his hand. "Mind if I have this dance?" he asked softly.

She smiled back at him, and he thought he saw something in her radiant smile...was that happiness? Hope? "Sure, Fin...though I didn't really have you pegged as the dancing type."

"Well, what can I say...it's better than sitting around and listening to John's conspiracy theories." he replied with a laugh, drawing her into the circle of his arms.

And as he felt her own arms slide around him, the warmth of her body radiating against him, Fin felt more comfortable than he had in years. Hesitantly, he gave Olivia a gentle squeeze as they began to move to the music.

And as she squeezed him back, her head falling slowly to his shoulder, breath light and caressing against his neck, he knew that he'd finally found a new way to communicate.

END