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serenasoutherlyns · 2 months ago

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(so you can) let go when you give it - chapter 9

ao3. explicit!

Abbie’s tight v-neck and jeans (that sat low on her hips, exposing the smallest sliver of skin) flattered her body. Serena took notice. It made her angry and enticed at the same time-- angry at how enticed she was. She politely conversed with acquaintances (she was bound to see plenty of them any night at Penelope’s), but couldn’t keep herself from searching the room for Abbie, stealing glances she hoped were covert. She escaped a friend of one of her cousins to order another drink.

Not that she needed one, particularly. She felt the ones she already had, and they had her considering doing something entirely ill-advised. The bartender handed her the vodka soda.

“She says it’s on her,” she said, gesturing to the end of the bar, to Abbie, who gave her a sly smile with a wave. God, she looked good. Infuriating. The pull she felt drew her without her thinking about it to Abbie’s side.

“Rather bold, don’t you think?”

“What can I say?” Abbie’s voice was thick with a confident seductiveness.

“Absolutely nothing,” Serena said, and meant it. She took Abbie’s drink out of her hand and kissed her, unabashedly firmly.

---

Serena could tell how badly Abbie wanted to speak, which was part of why she was insisting on her silence. She couldn’t let conversation ruin the moment they had, she wanted absolute focus on the task at hand. When Abbie gave in and submitted, wordless (though, beautifully, nowhere close to silent), she was filled with nearly-smug satisfaction. She followed Serena’s non-verbal instructions with no resistance, entirely in her thrall.

Serena gave Abbie a smirk from above, fully clothed still. She ran her hand from Abbie’s collarbone to her hip, and reveled in the sound of her breathing, which had grown ragged.

“Ugh, you’re fucking beautiful, it’s infuriating,” she said. Abbie squirmed. “Want something?” Serena asked, enjoying the nod she got in reply. “Too bad you can’t tell me what,” she teased. She liked when this side of herself came out, the control she could exert when she focused, when she wanted to. “You’re okay?” She said. Abbie’s mouth opened, then shut. “You can answer that,” she clarified.

“Yes, God,” said Abbie, “more than.”

“Good,” said Serena. “Tell me if that changes.” She kissed her again, dancing her tongue against Abbie’s. Her skin erupted in goosebumps when Serena’s fingertips scratched lightly against her ribs. “You like this a lot,” she said. Serena’s mind was entirely clear in a way it hadn’t been in weeks. “I like it too,” she admitted.

She kissed down Abbie’s body, moving from her lips to her neck, reaching her thigh by way of her shoulder, her stomach, her hips. Abbie was responsive but quiet. She heard an ambulance in the distance. Serena could tell she was growing desperate.

She settled in against the sheets, got comfortable. She rolled out her neck and paused a moment, held one of Abbie’s hands, looked her in the eyes. Abbie’s tongue darted out, licking her lips, then she bit the lower one. Serena kissed a knuckle, then dropped her hand and dipped her head down. Abbie let out a choked, wanting sound that made Serena shiver. She could tell Abbie wanted to beg. A little piece of her wanted to keep drawing it out, but a glance from Abbie let her know that would border on cruel.

Abbie’s hips were less than still when Serena gave in. She was torturously slow, deliberate when she started, applying only the gentlest pressure with her tongue. Abbie’s clit quivered nonetheless. Serena hoped her thoughts were coming around to so this is what I’m missing.

Gradually, she increased the pressure, then the pace, varying her movements. Abbie made a sound that indicated her pleasure, near a whine. It, along with the pulse Serena felt against her tongue, let her know she was close. She opened her eyes. One of Abbie’s hands gripped her blankets, then let go sharply as her hips jerked and she sighed. Serena felt her coming, and only removed her mouth when the twitches halted.

She wiped her mouth. Abbie’s eyes were heavily lidded, her mouth was open. Serena took that as an opportunity, and kissed her.

---

Abbie fell asleep having drunk only half the glass of water. Of course Serena wasn’t going to let her leave, not in her state, after she’d completely been worn out. Serena was tired, too. Still, she lay awake for a moment and just watched, studying Abbie’s sleep-smoothed face.

This would work, somehow.

---

Abbie offered to leave as soon as they were both awake. Serena didn’t want that, and offered coffee. She gave her some shorts and a tee shirt. Abbie seemed a little confused. Serena hoped she could clarify some things. Anyway, Abbie seemed content to share a cup of coffee, whether that was out of politeness, sleepiness, or, hopefully, comfort.

Abbie yawned. Serena felt a sense of pride-- she must have really worn her out. The coffee was almost done brewing. Alex walked in, then behind her Olivia. Alex stared at the two of them. Olivia looked amused, if Serena was reading her correctly.

“Hi?” Said Alex after a moment.

“Hi,” said Serena, putting on a chipper tone that probably betrayed more nervousness than she wanted. “I made enough for everybody.”

Alex’s eyes were fixed on Abbie. Her gaze was equal parts baffled and hostile. Serena poured four cups of coffee. They all stood in a circle, each waiting for someone else to break the tension.

“How was everyone’s night?” Olivia volunteered.

“Good,” said Abbie with a small laugh. “thanks.”

Serena’s stomach had a great idea. “Anybody want brunch?”

---

“What was that all about?” Alex asked when Olivia went home. Serena could tell that she had abbreviated her goodbye, but it still lasted five minutes or more. She may have rolled her eyes with Alex’s previous girlfriends, but Olivia was so real with Alex that the sappiness wasn’t grating. Before Serena could answer, Alex continued, “And don’t say ‘nothing.’”

“We ran into each other at Penelope’s last night,” Serena said. She took a sip of the glass of water she was holding. She felt Alex out-lawyering her, the minorest changes in her face and her silence urged her to keep talking. “It was a good night.”

“That’s nice,” said Alex, “I just-- do you trust her?”

“I trust myself,” Serena said, “I know what I’m doing, Alex.”

“And what is that?”

“Getting the girl.” Alex’s eyes narrowed only a millimeter before she smiled.

“Well,” she said with a tilt of her head. “Godspeed.”

---

The rest of Sunday passed uneventfully. Serena read some of a novel she’d been picking up and putting down for months. She got a latte and walked around for a moment. She stopped at a houseplant store, but didn’t buy anything. The air was turning crisper by the day.

“Good weekend?” Tracey greeted her when she got into work Monday morning.

“You know?” Serena said, “yes, I had a good weekend.”

“Eventful?”

“You could say,” Serena smirked.

The rest of the work day was good, and Serena got home earlier than she expected to. When she thought about it, Tracey had been a little pushy about getting her home early, which was not like her. She wondered why. She flicked on the lights in the living room, then hung her keys and jacket up on the hook, then took off her boots. She went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Maybe she would get a cocktail or something, maybe with Alex if she came home soon.

Her mind drifted to Abbie as she listened to the water start to boil. Was it time to give her a call? Or should she wait, try to catch her in her office tomorrow morning, or tomorrow evening? She didn’t know. Abbie had seemed to enjoy the weekend, but Serena couldn’t read her mind. Maybe she didn’t want anything but the occasional hook up.

That wasn’t what Serena wanted. The kettle was done, and she made a cup of rooibos. She took the mug to the living room and sat down on the couch, grabbing the book she had been picking at from the coffee table. Then, she heard a knock at the door.

It was probably someone selling door to door, missionaries maybe. It could be work, too. When she looked through the peephole, though, she saw through its distorted lens a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. She opened the door.

“These are for…” The messenger looked down at a piece of paper, “Serena Southerlyn.”

“Thanks,” Serena said. She couldn’t hold back the grin. How old fashioned, how sweet. Lilies and roses made up the bulk of the arrangement. Only once she set it on the table did she read the card.

Dear Serena,

I can be rash. I shut people out sometimes. I’m sorry. I know this: that I want to invite you in, that I want you. Would you let me try?

Please-- come to my place, if your answer is yes.

- Abbie

The honesty was refreshing. She felt the emotion in the words, even in her brevity. Abbie wanted her. That was what Serena needed to know.

Her shoes were on faster than she could even think. She took a rose as she slipped out the door, and held it by her side. She caught a cab down the street from her place-- she needed to be at Abbie’s fast.

As she stepped out of the cab and up Abbie’s stoop, she was hit with a feeling of gravity, a sense that the next couple minutes would change her life. She took a deep breath, then knocked on the heavy door. She heard footsteps, then the door unlocking.

“I’m here,” Serena said, quietly, when the door opened.

“You came,” Abbie said. Her eyes sparkled.

“You asked,” Serena replied. She felt a wide smile on her face. She spoke, still entranced: “Are you going to invite me in?”

Abbie blushed. She could stand to see that again. “Yes, I, sorry,” she said.

“I like the flowers,” Serena said when she stepped inside.

“I’m so glad,” said Abbie. “I liked sending them to you.” Serena’s smile widened. She needed to hear what Abbie had to say. Though she wanted to just kiss her, jump into this head first-- she had enough self-preservation to ensure her heart’s protection.

“So,” she said, “what was I keeping you from saying the other day?” She waited for the response, that she knew was going to be important.

“I was going to say, ‘I’m sorry.’ I’m saying I’m sorry. For how I treated you, for how I broke things off, for how I didn’t give us a fair shot.”

“That,” said Serena, “That means a lot.” It did mean a lot. Serena was growing more and more sure. Abbie took a steadying breath.

“And now, I’m telling you that I want to be with you. More than I’ve wanted anything in years.” Serena felt a lightness inside herself that she knew was certainty-- about what she wanted, about Abbie’s intentions.

When they made it to the bed, their clothes left in the hallway piece by piece, Abbie pulled back from their kiss just enough to say, “Hey Serena?”

“Hm?” she responded,

“Can I take you out to dinner?”

Serena didn’t have it in her to be embarrassed about the squeal that came out of her mouth.

“Of course you can,” Serena said. She laced her hands together behind Abbie’s neck and kissed her.

#sficx #cabenson #alex cabot #olivia benson #a/o #serena southerlyn #abbie carmichael #serenabbie #law and order #svu

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serenasoutherlyns · 2 months ago

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(so you can) let go when you give it - chapter 8

ao3. Explicit!! and very little plot!

Did it count as a whirlwind romance if it took months to begin, but began flying by as soon as it did? Alex wasn’t sure, but Serena had called it that the other day. Being Olivia Benson’s girlfriend was everything she had hoped for and more. Olivia was gentle but serious, and far more of a romantic than Alex could’ve guessed. She’d brought Alex her favorite dark chocolate the other day, just because. She would pop into Alex’s office with surprise gifts, or with nothing but her sweet smile. It was certainly still early days, and yet Alex found herself thinking Olivia was the one.

She felt a little bad for being so invested, so enthralled by her new relationship while Serena was mourning the loss of her burgeoning one. Serena did appear to be doing everything within her power to move on. Tracey had set her up on a date. Of course, that date turned out to be a twenty-three year old Cornell grad with a passion for hotels, and Abbie had shown up and ruined it. Alex applauded Serena for going at all. She saw Abbie around sometimes, but was grateful they weren’t working on a case together anymore.

Alex walked into the precinct and felt herself smile when she saw her girlfriend. She wanted to kiss her in greeting, but settled for a wave and nod, and gave the same to Elliot. “Any updates?” She asked.

“None to speak of,” said Elliot with a grimace. “His lawyer’s stalling us. Says he won’t talk ‘til you get here, but I have a feeling he won’t talk at all.”

“Have you offered protective custody?” Alex said.

“Yes, many times. He won’t budge,” Olivia said.

“Peters’ got him real scared, but his lawyer’s not helping either.”

“Let me see what I can do,” said Alex, starting down the hall.

---

“You work miracles,” said Olivia. “I swear. I can’t believe you got him to talk like that.” Alex shrugged shyly. She hadn’t done much but offer a deal, which Olivia couldn’t do on her own.

“You give me too much credit,” she said. She took a sip of her beer. Olivia was turning her into a regular aficionado-- she could name three kinds that she actually liked.

“No,” said Olivia, “I don’t. You deserve every bit of credit you get.” Alex nodded. She didn’t have a self-esteem problem that would cause her to argue further.

“I’m so happy we could do this tonight,” Alex said. It had been a few days since they’d had more than a couple minutes of each other’s company.

“Me too,” said Olivia. Alex saw something in her eyes she couldn’t get enough of. She was in love with her. The only reason she hadn’t said it was some sense that it hadn’t been long enough. If she were honest, she had thought she was in love with Olivia for at least weeks before they first kissed, and she had been certain after.

“I love you,” Alex said before she finished thinking it. Olivia looked surprised for a moment, then grinned wider than Alex had ever seen.

“I love you too, Alex,” she said. Olivia reached for her hand and took it, then set down her beer, leaned in, and kissed her sweetly, chastely. “I love you,” she said again. Alex surprised herself: there were tears in her eyes. Olivia heard Alex hiccup, and the expression on her face turned to one of concern.

“Sorry,” said Alex, wiping her cheeks, “sorry, I’m just really happy,” she said.

“So am I,” said Olivia. She wiped another tear away with her thumb and kissed her again. Alex leaned back against the arm of the couch to give Olivia more access. One of Olivia’s hands rested against her waist, the other steadied them both on the cushions. Alex got comfortable. The tears stopped, and her overwhelming happiness was joined by a warm feeling of desire. She moaned when Olivia increased the pressure, the urgency. They didn’t hear the footsteps in the hallway nor even the key in the lock, and she didn’t know Serena had come home until she heard her voice.

“Hi guys,” Serena said, a slight begrudging tone in her voice.

“Hi,” said Olivia, turning her head towards the door for a second before looking back into Alex’s eyes.

“Hey, Ser,” said Alex.

“Hello?” Serena questioned impatiently. Well, Alex couldn’t fault her a little annoyance. “Get a room?”

“Oh, right,” said Olivia, still entranced. She hopped off Alex’s lap and took her hand, pulling her off the couch. Serena looked slightly amused when Alex saw her. She followed Olivia to her bedroom. It was a little messy. She was glad she could let Olivia see it in this state.

At one point, Alex thought they would’ve waited to sleep with each other. They hadn’t, and Alex suspected they wouldn’t’ve been able to if they’d tried. That first kiss had been so suggestive, so hungry, there had been so much build up. No intensity had been lost. Alex turned on a lamp and turned off the overhead light, and waited on the side of the bed. Olivia removed her shirt, then walked over and did the same for Alex.

“Poor Serena,” said Olivia. “Maybe we should keep the funny business to the bedroom, for now.”

“She’s okay,” Alex said, “she’s coping.” Olivia nodded. She kissed Alex again, lips tender and soft. She straddled her.

“Sometimes I feel bad for other people because there’s no way they’re as happy as we are.” Alex laced her hands together behind Olivia’s neck.

“There’s just no way,” She agreed. Olivia held her hips. Their kiss grew slow and deliberate, Olivia’s hands roaming, she slowly had Alex lower herself, until she was on her back against the pillows. Alex liked when Olivia took charge like this, when she guided her where she wanted to go. She kissed and sucked along her cheek, under her earlobe, down her neck, to her collarbone, then lower, leaving elegant red marks that wouldn’t be visible under a button down. Alex idly played with Olivia’s hair. She tilted her head up to look at Alex with dark eyes, fluttering her lashes, she continued. She removed Alex’s bra.

Alex inhaled sharply when Olivia’s tongue touched her nipple, then sighed as her lips wrapped around it. Olivia moaned. She always did, when Alex showed her pleasure. It sent goosebumps through her.

“Are you cold?” Olivia asked thoughtfully.

“No,” said Alex, “not cold.”

“Oh,” said Olivia, “good.”

“Yep,” said Alex. “Olivia, I need you.” Olivia’s face betrayed desire. She nodded.

“I need you,” she said back. She held Alex’s hips and kissed her again, then slid her hand under the waistband of the sweats Alex was wearing. Alex shimmied out of them. The black lace panties she wore did not match the rest of the look, but Olivia didn’t appear to mind. They were soaked through. “Wow,” she said when her fingers touched the slick fabric. “You’re so wet,” pride and awe filling her voice.

“You make me so wet,” Alex responded. Olivia moaned. Her thumb grazed Alex’s clit, but she needed more. She took the panties off herself.

“So eager,” said Olivia, almost talking to herself.

“For you, yes,” said Alex. “Always.” That word, which had scared her any time she’d heard it from a partner in the past, felt right to say. Olivia didn’t make her wait any longer. Two of her fingers sunk into Alex’s inviting cunt with no trouble at all.

In the afterglow, when Alex had come more times than she counted, she turned to Olivia and said again: “I love you.”

#sficx #cabenson #alex cabot #olivia benson #a/o #serena southerlyn #abbie carmichael #serenabbie #law and order #svu #also i finished writing this at a cafe #fic writers: do you write fic in public #i usually try to make sure my computer screen is mostly hidden and on low brightness #just in case #maybe im weird

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serenasoutherlyns · 2 months ago

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listening

“What are you hearing now?”

calex. ao3. 5.3k words. mature/explicit.

“Don’t you think this is a weird time to start a new job?”

Her little sister’s voice is tinny. Ana is making a bottle for the baby, she has her on speakerphone. Casey is listening through her earbuds, walking to said new-old job bright and early on the third Monday of November.

“It is,” said Casey, “but, as we’ve discussed, this was when the position became vacant and they really need it filled. It was all--” Casey dodges an electric scooter-- “A little last minute.”

“You should’ve made them wait until next week. Mom’s mad you’re not coming home.”

Casey had been glad for the excuse. “Mom will be fine. Look, I’m not really in the position to negotiate here.”

“Your suspension has been over for months.”

“And I was offered a job despite the gap in my resume.”

“I just think it’s a little unfair,” Ana says, “You’re like, the best prosecutor I know. They’re lucky you even said yes.”

Casey scoffs lightheartedly. “I would take that compliment if I weren’t the only prosecutor you know.”

“You don’t know my life.”

“I’m here,” says Casey, “bye.”

“Bye.” Casey clicks her phone off and removes her headphones, and hears a voice beside her say her name.

“Alex,” she says in reply. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Casey,” says Alex, who is holding a to-go cup that reads decaf soy which she thinks is fitting. “First day back, right?”

“You are.” Casey sighs a little, remembering the last time she had left this building.

“I can’t believe they didn’t let you start after Thanksgiving,” Alex says.

“I didn’t much feel like flying anyway,” Casey remarks.

Alex checks her watch. “Good luck, Casey,” she says.

“Thanks,” Casey says, and waits for Alex to get a couple steps in front of her before she heads in, and up.

---

Alex doesn’t think much of how little she naturally sees of Casey over the next few weeks. There’s no reason she’d see more of Casey than any of her other coworkers. Casey’s been taking cases for Homicide since she started, or so Alex hears. When she sees her red hair from afar, she wonders for a moment how much of that was her choice. Then she gets drawn into a conversation with Mike Cutter and the thought leaves her mind.

Cutter wants to know if an arraignment went alright, and it did, the guy was remanded. He’s kind of been breathing down her neck, and she isn’t really sure why. She has things to do, so she tries to extricate herself, and succeeds after a while. She passes Casey, this time closer, on the walk back to her office and the woman gives her a polite wave that Alex returns. She sits back down at her desk and doesn’t get up for more than a restroom break until she heads home.

It isn’t pitch black when she leaves, but the sky is darkening rapidly, the last of the sun glowing orange behind the buildings. The chill in the air this morning had brought out one of her winter coats, and she can see her breath in front of her face. She’s grateful for the scarf around her neck.

Traffic stalls. She passes it on foot, and cyclists weave through in a way that makes Alex wonder if they all have death wishes. One particular cyclist zooms past, a red ponytail sticking out from under her helmet. At the stoplight on the corner, Casey gives her another smile and wave. Alex waves back, and as she descends the steps into the subway station, feels a little warm.

---

By week three, Casey feels like she’s just starting to settle in to the work. It’s the same, and it’s different, and she feels all jumbled up sometimes, scattered. They’ve rearranged things around Hogan, everyone’s office is somewhere different than she remembers, including her own. She gets halfway to her old one a couple times. She’s picking up cases as they get thrown her way, which is challenging, but not altogether more difficult than being assigned to one unit. It’s just different. She is mostly adapting.

On the start of her ride home from work (the refurbished Bianchi had been her celebration present to herself) she waves to Alex Cabot as she turns to walk into the subway station. It’s funny to run into her twice in one day, nice. Casey hasn’t made any work friends yet. She knows the scarlet letter of her suspension will inevitably fade as she wins more cases, but for now, many regard her with suspicion, or worse, pity. Alex might be the closest she has-- nobody else has dared to wish her good luck, anyway.

And there was the matter of the Connors trial. Casey begins to recap it in her head, and she recalls Alex, afraid in her office, asking if Casey was ready. Her predecessor had loomed over almost her entire tenure in Sex Crimes. Casey had witnessed, even shared in the experience of the trial that put the man who shot Alex behind bars. Yet, they’re almost strangers, Casey realizes.

She thinks she might like to change that.

---

The next time Alex runs into Casey, they very nearly collide. Alex stops just short of Casey, because she’s trying to text and walk. She should really know better.

“Hi Alex,” Casey says cordially, and takes a step to the side, starts walking down the hallway.

“Hi, Casey,” Alex says equally so, and Casey turns to face her.

“I’m getting coffee. Can you spare fifteen minutes?” Casey asks, and that is unexpected, though not unwelcome, not at all.

“I can, actually,” Alex says with a touch of the surprise she feels.

There’s a coffee cart right outside the office, thankfully. No decaf espresso, no soymilk, but Alex can drink a cup of black drip coffee too. She has an urge she’s had a few times over the years.

“Casey,” she starts after some small talk, “I never got to thank you, after the Connors trial.”

“You didn’t have to,” Casey says. “I mean, I knew you couldn’t, and I was doing my job. And it’s been a long time, Alex…”

“Thank you, Casey,” Alex reiterates.

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re tough,” Alex says. Casey laughs and looks puzzled.

“I am?”

“Yeah,” says Alex, who hadn’t really been thinking before she spoke.

“Coming from you.” Casey seems amused. She blows on her coffee (cream and sugar) and takes a sip. Alex nods to the park across the street and they walk that way, sit on a bench. “You’re a badass, Cabot.”

Alex shrugs and sips her own coffee, watches a woman pushing a stroller pass a man talking loudly into his phone. “Thanks,” she says, in lieu of argument.

The remaining ten minutes pass with lighter chat, about the brisk weather, office politics, and the new season of Top Chef. When Alex gets back to her office, she feels refreshed after the cold, pleasantly caffeinated, and goes back to her work.

---

There’s a horrible cold snap the week before Christmas. It makes Casey glad her landlord sorted out her heat quickly when it broke last month. She caves and rides the subway to work all week-- the roads are far too icy for the bike. The stations and cars are even more packed than usual with commuters who would generally walk and people just looking to escape the cold for a moment. She plugs her earbuds into her iPod and presses play on the new Black Keys album, rides the train for the first two songs and is halfway through the third when she gets to her office. It’s going to be a long day-- she has an opening statement to give, among other things.

The damn copier on her floor is busted (as it often is), so she has to go up one after she has lunch. She sees Alex at her desk on the way to their copy room. She has her glasses on and her hair swept back in a claw clip. She’s writing quickly in a notebook. Alex looks up for a moment, the end of her pen against her lips like she’s deep in thought. She nods and goes back to her work, but moments after Casey starts up the machine, someone speaks behind her. When she turns, it’s Alex.

“Needed a walk?”

Casey is okay with the teasing. That first coffee had turned into a nice, comfortable work-friendship that Casey valued in their office culture.

“The copier downstairs is broken,” she says, leaning against another large machine. Alex has a travel mug in her hand. “Work slow today?”

“Far from it,” Alex says. She takes a sip of what Casey assumes is green tea at this hour. It must be new, because she winces, like she burnt her tongue.

“Ouch,” Casey says, matching the playfulness. Alex rolls her eyes. “You gotta watch out for that.” Alex shrugs.

“What are you doing tonight?” Alex asks her. Casey thinks about it for a second, checking her mind for plans.

“I shouldn’t be busy. Why?”

“I have this reservation,” Alex’s fingers tap against her mug, “it’s at a new place, super hard to get. Would you like to come with me?”

“I,” Casey hesitates for a moment, only because she hadn’t been sure if they were that kind of friends. “Yeah, sure,” she continues, and then it hits her that this sounds kind of like Alex Cabot is asking her on a date. To interrogate that further, she asks, “how did you get the reservation?”

“My friend’s girlfriend left her, today, on their anniversary. She gave it to me.”

“Oh,” says Casey, finding that inconclusive. Instead of pushing her further, she just says, “well, yeah, dinner sounds nice. What’s the dress code?”

“Nicer than jeans,” Alex is specific, “but not too nice. I’m probably going to wear a nice sweater and a skirt.”

“Sounds good,” says Casey, picturing a dress she owns.

“Great, I’m glad. I didn’t want to go alone.”

Probably not a date, then, Casey thinks, and is fine with that. Casey does need to bring the copies she just made back to her office. She gets them and gives Alex a “see you” on her way out. She tries not to think about how she’d wanted it to be one.

---

“It’s so cold,” Casey says as they wait at the host stand. Alex agrees, it had been hard to drag herself out of the house in this weather after a long day of work. But she has it, and she invited Casey, so she’d braved the couple-block walk. Her fingertips are still a bit numb.

“I know, this weather is crazy. Have you been riding in this?”

“No,” says Casey, and Alex is glad to hear it. “She doesn’t like the cold.”

“Your bike?” Alex thinks, of course Casey’s bike is a she. Casey’s eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Bianca,” she says. Alex smiles.

“She sounds like a discerning lady.”

“She demands only the best.” Casey bites her lip, something Alex is learning is a habit of hers. The host leads them to their table.

Alex gets a good look at the necklace Casey’s wearing as they sit down, a delicate gold chain with an emerald at the center. As she takes in the candlelit restaurant, she realizes that this seems like a date.

“Happy anniversary,” Casey says with a wink, and Alex is grateful for the way it breaks the tension, makes her laugh.

“To you too,” Alex says. “Poor Jane.”

“Tell her thank you, from me.” That thankfully ends the last of the awkwardness, Casey’s so considerate and polite, genuine.

“So,” Alex says, trying to find the right topic. She considers work, she considers Top Chef (It’s shaping up to be Paul versus Sarah all season long, but Alex has a soft spot for Grayson), but she lands on something else, that she’s curious about, cares about. She asks, “How did you spend your suspension?”

Casey looks a bit taken aback at the question, but her expression is not offended.

“Nobody asks me that,” she says, “everyone just tiptoes, pretends that I didn’t exist for three years.”

“I know the feeling,” though Alex knows it isn’t the same.

“Right,” says Casey, somewhat disbelieving, which Alex figures she deserves. She turns her head to the side. “I did freelance work, volunteered at an LGBT center… I read a lot, mostly memoirs and fiction. I worked out twice a day. I watched the entirety of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD more than once. I mostly spent it by myself.” She looks back at Alex.

“That sounds almost restorative.” Alex is sure it wasn’t, really, but she’s trying to be positive, for Casey’s benefit.

“In a way,” Casey puts her hand on the back of her neck, “it was, in a way. I was pretty miserable for the first few months, pretty bored for the rest of it.”

“I never thought you deserved that severe of a punishment,” Alex says, and is telling the truth, based on what she had heard second hand.

“Maybe,” says Casey, “I was headed down a pretty bad path, though, dangerous. I would’ve gotten myself disbarred for something else if they’d let me get away with that.”

Alex admires Casey’s capacity for introspection, for honesty. She says “Hm,” encouraging Casey to talk. She doesn’t have more to say about the suspension, though.

“Since you asked me,” she says, “what was it like to be Alex Cabot again?”

Alex is glad that she hadn’t exactly reversed her question. “Incredibly difficult,” Alex says with a little laugh, figuring she ought to return Casey’s honesty. “I never got used to the program, really, but that time still passed, and nothing was the same when I got back.” She hopes Casey can forgive her vagueness. “Nobody asks me that question, either,” she finishes.

“Do you like to be asked?”

Alex thinks for a moment before she speaks. “Yes,” she says, “I do.”

---

As they leave the restaurant, Casey still hasn’t made her final prediction as to whether or not it’s a date. She knows she can just ask, she knows that. She worries, though, that if the answer is no, she’ll lose someone who is quickly becoming a valued friend. Alex shivers as they wait for Casey to find a cab outside. Casey’s teeth chatter, and simply out of instinct, the two of them move closer to each other until Casey can feel Alex’s body heat next to her.

And she goes for it.

Alex is stiff for an extremely long moment before she kisses back. She makes up for it, though, with a hand on Casey’s waist that draws her in suggestively. It might not have been a date, but Alex doesn’t seem to mind this. When Casey pulls away, Alex gives her a contemplative look.

“Should I not have…” Casey trails off, not finishing before Alex replies.

“No, I’m just a little surprised.”

“And is that a good thing?”

Casey watches Alex’s eyes as she looks at her lips. She bites her own.

“Yes,” she says. She sees a taxi and hails it. Casey holds out her hand as she starts to get in, and Alex follows her.

---

Alex notes, as they walk up the six flights of stairs to get to Casey’s apartment, that this desire snuck up on her. It is real, though, and she’s had the cab ride all the way to Brooklyn to think about it. Casey’s casually granted invitation is appealing, as is the view Alex is offered as Casey walks in front of her, from her hair to her heels.

Casey makes an exasperated sound as she’s unlocking the door. “Fucking thing always sticks.” She gets it to open on the third try. Her apartment is cozy, which is to say, small, but well-decorated and arranged. The radiator is on and a window is open. She has some real art on the walls, and when she notices Alex looking at it explains, “They’re by a college friend of my sister’s. We all got prints for Christmas a few years ago.”

“They’re nice,” Alex says, following Casey’s lead and removing her shoes. Casey takes her coat and hangs it up.

“Thanks,” Casey says, “I don’t think you’re here to admire my art collection.”

“No, no I’m not.” Casey leans against a wall in her kitchen-living room, and Alex steps forward, kisses her softly.

“That’s more like what I thought,” Casey says in a pause. Alex chuckles.

“Quite presumptuous, don’t you think, Casey?” Alex teases.

“I seem to be right.”

Alex considers this. She had asked Casey to dinner, it makes sense that Casey would’ve expected the night to go here. Alex feels like she’s playing catch up with her own intentions.

Alex nods, and leaves it at that as she kisses Casey again.

---

Casey is going to go home for Christmas, though she doesn’t want to. Ana needs her there, she hasn’t seen her nephew since he was born, her father’s health has been getting worse, and she just doesn’t have any excuse, any reason to stay in the city. She’s leaving on the 23rd, and the final three days in the office before she leaves fly.

Her friendship with Alex appears to be virtually unaltered, which Casey can’t quite bring herself to complain about, let alone change. She had been perfectly content to be nothing more than work friends. Now they were work friends who had slept together. Casey assumed it wouldn’t happen more than once. That dinner hadn’t been a date, she’d decided, and the sex had been nothing. That Alex is attractive, engaging, and great in bed doesn’t have to mean anything else.

Alex doesn’t give her any indication that anything has changed, anyway, except a warmer, fonder smile she flashes her sometimes. Casey chalks it up to comfortable familiarity, closeness, that also doesn’t have to mean anything else.

It’s just sex, just a one night stand. They don’t even acknowledge it. They barely see each other in the office before she leaves. Casey, at least, is trying to get ahead on work. No invitations to dinner are extended, either, so when would they? Their interactions amount to waves and nods. That’s going to have to be okay.

It is okay, and her flight home goes smoothly. Her mother doesn’t try to set her up with any of her friends’ (divorced or gay) sons at midnight mass. The baby is pulling up to stand, her father is in good spirits. They have a calm Christmas Eve and then a busy Christmas morning with Casey’s grandparents, aunts and uncles, her cousins and their kids. Her mom only gives her a couple passive-aggressive comments about having babies. It’s a tolerable, even pleasant few days.

Around lunch on the 30th, her last day at her parents’, she gets a text from Alex.

- What are you doing New Year’s Eve?

She’d heard that song that morning, in a Target. Another follows seconds later:

- I have a party I can’t get out of and nobody to go with.

Not a date, again, Casey thinks, and this time she allows herself a little disappointment. She still would like to go, though, If nothing else, to see what kinds of parties Alex frequents.

- I don’t have plans, but I might be jet lagged. A party sounds fun if you’ll put up with my grogginess.

Alex’s reply:

- It’s roaring 20s themed. I know, pedestrian. I think I have a dress you could wear, I know it’s late notice. - You can be as groggy as you want. We don’t even need to be there until midnight, I just have to make an appearance.

Casey is amused at Alex’s lack of enthusiasm and resolves to brighten her evening even just a little.

- Sounds like a plan :).

She doesn’t regret risking the emoticon.

---

Alex is nervous as she opens the door, jitters that she thinks are misplaced. It’s around eight PM, they have some time before they need to be at the party. She knows enough about Casey to know that she would never judge the themed outfit she has on. She hasn’t even committed all the way: she wears a low-waisted short black dress and a fascinator, and calls that good enough.

Casey has on jeans and a tee shirt under her coat, and Alex has never seen her this casual before. Her hair is curled, too.

“Wow,” Casey says, eyeing Alex.

“Too much?”

“No, not at all.” Casey has an expression Alex now recognizes, that suggests her outfit is perfectly fine. Alex returns it, eyeing Casey’s slight curves in the bootcut denim and snug top. Tonight might be a date. Alex has been thinking about Casey since before Christmas, unsure of what to do next, especially because she hasn’t seen her around. She’ll make tonight a date.

“I have a dress,” Alex says, “here, come see.” Casey follows her and when they get to her bedroom, she feels the acute familiarity of it, feels herself drawn to her. The dress laid out on her bed is short, red, with fringe at the hem. Alex had worn it to this party last year, and the year before that (with different accessories). It turns heads. The only reason she isn’t wearing it this time around is because she wants to see it on Casey. Her nerves start to pick up as Casey looks wide-eyed at the garment. “Oh, um. I can probably find another one that would work.”

“No need. It’s very,” Casey swallows, “nice.” Alex sees where her hesitation is coming from. She can’t help but enjoy it.

“I think so too.” Casey touches the material between her first finger and her thumb. Then she looks at Alex for a moment. “I’ll let you change.”

“Thanks,” Casey says, like her mind is elsewhere. When she opens the door to the bedroom, Casey is subtly blushing. She is breathtaking in a very literal sense. Alex wants to skip the party.

“I brought some jewelry,” Casey says, her hands on her hips, bending to pick up her handbag. “Silver and gold options. Help me pick?”

“Happily.” Based on what she’s seen, Alex likes Casey’s taste in jewelry. She pulls two necklaces and two pairs of earrings out of a zipper pocket in her purse. Alex steps forward to examine them. Her hand brushes Casey’s and burns.

Casey lays the necklaces on the bed first, the emerald Alex has already seen and a similar silver one, a little shorter, with an oval garnet pendant. Alex notices Casey’s had a manicure recently, her nails are a mauve color that matches her glossed lips. Casey holds her hair up with one hand and a gold earring up to her ear with the other one.

“The earrings depend on the necklace,” she says contemplatively, then exchanges it for the silver one. “What do you think?”

When she looks to Alex for her opinion, her head tilts to the side. “Which one?” She says with a smirk.

“Silver,” Alex says. Her mouth is dry. Casey hands her the necklace. Alex undoes the clasp and steadies her hands as she places it around her neck, Casey looks slightly down as she continues to hold her hair up. Alex appreciates the help. As the clasp closes, Casey releases her hair and turns around.

“What do you think?”

Casey’s voice is deep and low, and Alex thinks she knows what she’s doing. Her eyes are drawn to where the gem falls on Casey’s chest, right where her collarbones meet. She really doesn’t want to go to this party.

---

They get to the party around ten. It’s what Casey expected, at a very nice hotel ballroom. Hors d’œuvres (Casey likes the goat cheese and fig jam bites) and flutes of Champagne are passed around effortlessly by servers in crisp white shirts. Jazz plays from the exceedingly nice speaker system. Alex seems comfortable here, but in a practiced way. Casey has seen Alex at extremes, intensities, moments where she couldn’t put on a façade. Her guard seems up here, as she makes small talk with acquaintances Casey doesn’t know. Alex hesitates the first time she makes Casey’s introduction, before saying, “This is my friend, Casey Novak.”

Just a month and a half ago she’s sure Alex would’ve called her a colleague.

At around eleven thirty, three flutes in, Casey is starting to suppress yawns, and Alex seems to be getting restless-- judging by how she’s rubbing her knuckles against each other, a habit Casey’s picked up on.

“Come with me,” Casey says, holding a hand out for Alex’s. She thinks she saw a balcony at one end of the room. And yeah, it’s absolutely freezing, but she has an idea.

“Fu-uh-ck, it’s cold,” Alex says as she follows Casey out of the double doors. There’s a man finishing a cigarette, who leaves after Casey gives him a look. “I know it’s not quite midnight.” Casey uses the hand she’s still holding to pull Alex into her and kisses her gently. Alex responds, her other hand enthusiastic on Casey’s cheek. She deepens the kiss but keeps it calm, like she’s in no rush. Alex’s heels are higher than her own and the height difference they create is notable. Casey has to tilt her head up, and Alex uses that to her advantage, pulling back and placing a soft kiss near her earlobe. Casey’s sure her red lipstick leaves a mark.

“Let’s go,” Alex says seriously, her voice thick. Casey lets herself be led, through the now-dancing crowd, to the coat check, then out the door. A bank across the street’s sign shows they have fifteen minutes to midnight.

Though Alex’s apartment is not too far away, Casey still wishes she’d brought gloves, and curses her heels. Falling snow is turning into slush on the sidewalks and her toes are cold, she worries about slipping.

“Fuck!” Yells Alex, shivering, rubbing her hands together. “Sorry, Casey. We’re almost there.” Apparently, Alex thinks she controls the weather. Casey wouldn’t be surprised if she really does.

Casey laughs. “That’s okay.”

Alex reaches across the inches between them, grabs a handful of Casey’s coat and kisses her insistently. Casey takes a second to adjust. Alex’s cheeks are cold against her own but her mouth is pleasantly warm. As fast as the kiss begins, it’s over, and Alex keeps one of Casey’s hands in hers, pulls her faster until they reach her building.

The doorman nods to them on their way in. Were it not for the elderly woman already on the elevator when they enter it, Casey’s sure they would be all over each other. Alex’s apartment is a good-sized one bedroom, and a clock on the wall reads eleven fifty nine.

“Happy New Year, Casey,” Alex says to her, then, taking her hand again, leads her down her hallway into her bedroom.

---

Alex presses Casey’s hips into her own, then lets her knee come between her legs. She touches her necklace lightly, then runs two fingers over the length of her collarbone. Casey exhales. Alex uses that as an opportunity, kissing her, reveling in the sound of Casey’s breath in the air.

She sets a slow pace, she wants to take this in, now that she’s certain. With each movement of her lips, tongue, of her hands on Casey’s waist, her chest, she pays careful attention to what responses she gets where. An honest-to-God whimper comes out of Casey’s throat.

“Can you unzip me?” Alex says, standing up.

“I can,” Casey purrs. She rises too, and as she undoes the zipper, places a kiss every inch or so along her spine. Alex sighs. She steps out of the dress, revealing nothing but a delicate lace thong. When she turns around, Casey looks at her with a desirous smile. She steps forward and presses her palm into Alex’s ass, kisses her briefly. She turns around and Alex unzips her quickly, then pushes the dress off her shoulders. As soon as it’s off of Casey’s ankles, Alex pushes Casey back onto the bed, landing on her lap.

“I really like this necklace.”

“I can tell,” Casey says. “You were staring at it all night. I thought you would.”

“You think about me?” Alex hopes her self-consciousness is disguised with seduction.

“Yeah.”

“What about me?”

Casey grins. Alex hums. She admires Casey’s expanse of smooth pale skin and touches, traces idly along her chest, her ribs. Red marks appear where Alex’s nails drag even lightly. Casey pulls her down, then and holds her still with a hand laced into her hair.

“This,” she says, lips against her neck, “this,” she says again, running her thumb along the top of Alex’s panties. “This, too.”

---

Alex catches her breath beside her when they’re well and truly done. She yawns and swings her legs off the side of the bed, then gets up. She walks down the hall. Casey hears what sounds like medicine bottles rustling and opening, then footsteps further down the hall, then the sink running and turning off.

“I thought you might be asleep,” Alex says when she gets back. She sets one glasse of water down on a side table and hands the other to Casey.

“Thank you,” Casey takes a sip, “Happy New Year.”

“Any resolutions?” Casey thinks about that for a second.

“Get back in the gym,” she lands on.

“Like you’ve been slacking.” Alex gets up and goes into her closet and comes out with tee shirts and boyshorts. She hands a pair to Casey, who dresses in them. They smell like Alex. When she gets in bed beside Casey, she sits close, their thighs pressed together.

“For me,” Casey says. “What about you?”

“I want to pay better attention to what I want,” Alex says, and Casey doesn’t reply, waits for her to elaborate on her own. “I’m not the best at, listening to myself.”

“I get it.”

“How do you do it?” Alex asks. Casey’s not sure she’s that good at it, but hazards a response.

“I had three years to learn.” Casey’s voice is quiet and calm. “It’s a matter of paying close attention. Of deciding you’re worth paying attention to.” Alex just nods. “What are you hearing now?”

Alex sets her water glass down and dries her hand on the sheets. Casey follows suit. Alex wordlessly kisses Casey’s shoulder, squeezes her hand, and clicks off the lamp lighting the room.

---

New Year’s Day is a bright and clear Sunday, and the birds wake up Alex early. Casey has still beaten her, awake and sitting up. Alex is pressed into her side, her face against Casey’s thigh when she opens her eyes.

“Morning,” Casey says, more chipper than should be legal at, she checks the clock on her nightstand, seven AM. Alex yawns, blinks some leftover sleep from her eyes. They threaten to close, to give her just a few more moments of sleep, but Casey’s hand on the back of her own rouses her. She sits up herself and kisses Casey unhurriedly. Casey cups her cheek and under her jaw, and breaks the kiss to speak. “I’m craving a pastry.”

Alex can’t help the wide smile that she feels coming across her face.

“Very funny.” Casey, though deadpan, sounds amused. Then her stomach growls, and they both giggle.

“Maybe something more substantial?” Alex suggests.

“Sure,” Casey says.

Alex isn’t sure exactly where they’re going when they leave her apartment in two sets of her own clothes. Her neighborhood is full of breakfast places, but she decides on her second-favorite, that’s slightly closer to her house.

They sit at a booth by the window. Alex gets pancakes and Casey orders her eggs over medium. As Alex pours syrup, Casey says, “I wouldn’t’ve guessed you had a sweet tooth.”

“Why not?”

“I just wouldn’t have,” Casey says, “it’s cute.”

Cute is not ordinarily a word Alex hears about herself, and it makes her snort. Casey gives her a look that says see? and Alex feels herself blush. Casey dips her toast into her eggs, and when Alex sees her looking out the window, she can almost hear herself saying yes.

#self rb #i like this one

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