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George Huang was not stupid. No, he was quite capable and intelligent, not lacking or awkward in social situations and despite popular belief, he knew when the detectives were making fun of him. He wasn't arrogant, though that wasn't what some thought, he just knew that he was one of the best at what he did and in his field you had to know what you were made of.

He rubbed at his temples as a headache made itself known. It wasn't a migraine, more of a nagging discomfort, like a fly buzzing perpetually in his ear. The ticking of the clock hanging on the wall across from him didn't help matters, nor did the illuminated screen of his desktop or the open, unfinished word document mocking him.

He looked away from his computer pensively, reaching out a small hand to grab a blue ballpoint pen before bringing it to his plump lips and chewing thoughtfully on the cap. It was a habit he had developed as a child and only came to the surface when he was confused and the good doctor was simply baffled, but not about the case.

Just outside his miniscule office, he could hear the continuous motion of the precinct. He could also detect the beginnings of an argument brewing and knew Cragen would probably need him afterward. He sighed. To say they were some of the best detectives, they bickered like children, tempers constantly boiling over and pressure getting the best of them.

"George?" He heard his voice, accompanied by a small knock, before Olivia stuck her head through the open doorway.

"Yes?" he asked with a thin smile.

"Me and El are making a coffee run. You want anything?"

He considered the offer, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was a little after nine p.m., surprisingly early by the precincts standards to make a coffee run but they all had been up for nearly three days straight.

"Tea would be great," he said with his usual soft tone. "It doesn't matter what kind."

"You sure?" A new voice asked, taking up the rest of the doorway with his bulky presence. Elliot stood behind Olivia, 5 o'clock shadow even more pronounced in the dim light. His eyes were swimming with mirth.

"So if I get chamomile you won't bitch that it wasn't…earl grey?" he continued, rugged smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

"Your knowledge of tea is surprising," George bit back, just as teasing. Olivia shook her head and smiled.

"We'll be back soon," she told him, tugging on Elliot's shirtsleeve and pulling him out the door.

He smiled as the door closed, leaving him with his thoughts once more. They baffled him, how they teased him, taunted him. It almost hedged on…flirting. He shook his head, grimacing as he was reminded of his headache. No, Elliot and Olivia were not flirting with him.

Still, his clinical knowledge of triads and polyamory flooded his mind. It would be a triad, he decided. Despite Elliot and Olivia's denial, it was obvious there was a spark there. Which begs the question, why include him? No, it must've been in his head.

But…the signs were there. The teasing tones, the warm, if not possessive touches, their subtle hints at their care for his personal safety. Maybe they had finally warmed up to him, considered him officially part of the team. Yes that had to be it.

He rolled his eyes, berating himself for his day dreaming and decided to focus on the profile he needed yesterday.

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When Olivia and Elliot knocked on his door, he was asleep. His head was on his desk and he was making small snuffling sounds that aren't exactly snores. They both smiled at him, tenderness in their gazes.

Elliot closed the door softly; locking it with thick fingers while Olivia placed the cardboard take-out cup of tea on George's desk.

They had already distributed the coffees so they could take their time.

"George," she said softly, boldly running a hand through his inky black hair. The smallest pool of saliva leaked from his mouth as he mumbled something unintelligent.

"George," she urged a little louder, shaking his shoulder.

He jumped awake, nearly knocking his head with Olivia's in his haste. There was a pink mark on his forehead, showing where he'd slept. He looked up at them bleary eyed, from Olivia at his desk, to Elliot leaning casually against the closed door.

"Tired Doc? He asked, not the least bit condescending. If anything he looked concerned.

"Yeah, a bit," he admitted rubbing his eyes. Seeing his tea, he seized it in his gentle hands and took a sip. It had cooled down just enough to be drinkable. He sighed gratefully into the cup.

"George," Elliot said, then, under his breath. "Damn."

George had looked up at him, plump red lips and steam clinging to thick black lashes. He looked breathtaking and was completely unaware of it.

"What?" he asked utterly confused. "Did you just call me George?"

"Yeah, yeah I did." Elliot rubbed the back of his neck. He looked over at Olivia for support. She was blushing.

The doctor could feel the last warm notes of sleep leaving his body, making him all too aware of the tension that seemed to have suddenly covered the room like a thick blanket. He took another, blissful sip of tea, before pushing it aside.

"What's going on?" he asked, "Is everything alright?"

The two detectives exchanged wary glances but remained silent. It only made George's anxiety grow, bubbling deep inside his stomach and threatening to erupt from his throat unless one of them told him what was going on. He turned to Olivia, looking at the female detective worriedly.

"Is something wrong with the case? Was another girl taken? Did someone get hurt?" He spouted off questions like he would facts, licking his lips nervously toward the end. The thought of someone getting hurt because of his lack of a finished profile made his stomach churn painfully.

"Nothing new has happened," Elliot piped up, rubbing his stubble. "We still only have twelve hours before the sick bastard kills Emily." He gritted his teeth, eyes turning stormy.

"We'll catch him Elliot," Olivia said soothingly, rubbing a hand over her weary face. Just outside the door, they heard Munch and Fin bickering heatedly, followed by Cragen's booming command to pipe down. A crash was heard next, followed by a muffled "Doc! A little help in here."

George swallowed his smirk and rose, brushing off non-existent dust from his sweater vest. He glanced from both detectives. "If it's not the case then…"

Another shout for help erupted, followed by more raised voices.

"We should talk after the case," Elliot said, unknowingly dismissive. "Clearly it's a bit hectic around here right now." Olivia nodded in agreement.

"Okay," he said, knowing he had no choice. He moved away from his desk, watching Elliot's intense eyes darken as he approached him. The detective didn't move from the door.

"Thanks for the tea," he said quietly, staring his feet as his brain tried to process what was happening.

"No problem," the detectives chorused, so in sync, the doctor almost thought it was rehearsed.

"Let him go Elliot."

He did as he was told, moving his large body, sculpted from his time in the marines. George nodded his thanks and left to go diffuse the fight between Fin and Munch. If he noticed the lusty look in Olivia's eyes as he gave her one last look or the fact that the door was locked, he didn't say a word.

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A/N: Well, that was it. What do you think? Please review!