DISCLAIMER: I don’t own them, but if I did this is probably the universe in which they’d live. That said, they may be better off with Dick Wolf, NBC and its affiliates!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: In homage to Mosca’s far more elegant "Degrees of Separation" (http://mosca.freeservers.com/fanfic/degrees.html). I could have tried to write a series of one-shots with all the possible pairings (fourteen of them!), but while that would have been amusing I think it would have stretched the already tenuous believability of this series to its breaking point. And my muse would have died en route.
CONTINUITY: Obviously AU. For one, “Loss” never happened. Secondly, while I debated for a long time whether I wanted these stories to fit together or be separate one-shots with no relation to each other, I eventually decided to go all out and so these scenes are set on consecutive days of Easter weekend (Thursday through Monday). I know, I know, it’s absurd and a little incestuous that all these gorgeous women would have this many “intimate” encounters with each other in five days, but it’s just for fun in my imaginary little universe so no harm done.
FANDOMS: Law & Order, Law & Order: SVU, Law & Order: CI and Law & Order: TBJ.
PAIRINGS: Olivia/Alex, Alex/Serena, Serena/Kelly, Kelly/Tracey, Tracey/Alex E.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
What the Easter Bunny Brings…
By tremblingmoon
1.
For the second time this month, Alex found herself wedged between the edge of her desk and the pliant body of Detective Olivia Benson. Not that she was complaining: the heat of Olivia's body against her and the faint sting of the desk digging sharp red lines into her palms as she braced herself from behind was turning her on in a way she couldn't begin to describe. Olivia's lips were soft and yielding against her own and she tasted faintly of the chocolate bunny that was lying, earless and forgotten, on her discarded coat. Entranced, Alex whimpered and Olivia slid her hands down her sides to mold themselves against the ADA's hips as she lifted her easily the few inches to rest on the solid surface of her desk. There was a pen digging into her upper thigh, but the mild discomfort was almost immediately superseded by the sensation of Olivia's teeth grazing her collarbone as her mouth slowly descended towards the collar of Alex's shirt.
"Liv..." Alex managed to gasp between breaths, her eyes fluttering open to glance at the clock above the door.
"Mmmm?" Olivia didn't even look at her, instead bringing her hands up and deftly unbuttoning the top two buttons of her soon to be very wrinkled shirt.
"My lunch hour is almost over….Oh, God…" Olivia's lips and tongue were burning an ardent path towards her left breast, the silky fabric straining as her nipples stiffened in anticipation. "No, no, stop...." Olivia stopped immediately and looked up, concern evident in her eyes. "I have a meeting at two…" Alex pleaded, trying unsuccessfully to squirm her way out from between her unyielding desk and the gentle, but firm, arms that were holding her there.
"You know how I love it when you beg," Olivia leaned in and whispered in the blonde's ear, tongue flicking out to tease her earlobe before pulling reluctantly away. "Your lunch hour is way too short," she sighed with frustration, but then smiled and squeezed her girlfriend's hand.
Alex breathed in deeply to steady herself and brought their joint hands up to her mouth. Her lips lingered a moment on Olivia's palm.
"I'll make it up to you tonight."
Olivia smiled softly. "I'd like that."
Taking the remains of her chocolate bunny and her coat, Olivia gave Alex a quick kiss before making her way back to the precinct, idly wondering if chocolate bunnies went well with the whipped cream and hot fudge she'd bought to make ice cream Sundaes tonight after dinner. Even if bunnies didn't, she smiled devilishly, she knew a certain blond ADA who would go wonderfully with chocolate…
Olivia made a mental note to go by the store on her way home for extra fudge. Maybe she wasn't in the mood for ice cream after all.
2.
Going to eat fish fry on Good Friday with Serena was a three-year tradition Alex was seriously considering disbanding as her friend leered at her from across the table, a slightly greasy piece of haddock dangling between her impeccably manicured fingertips as they paused mid-dip in the tartar sauce.
"What did you just say?"
Alex sighed, took a breath and tried again. "Detective Benson…Olivia," Alex stressed, realizing her mistake as her companion began to chuckle "…and I are dating. How many times do I have to say it?"
"Detective Benson," Serena snorted, almost flinging her remaining fish across the room. "Is that what you call her, Alex? Well, I guess that answers my next question."
"What?" Alex asked against her better judgment, thoroughly exasperated with her deliriously giggling friend.
"Well…I've always wondered if Detective Benson takes her handcuffs to bed. She seems like the dominatrix type—cool and collected on the outside but a firecracker in the bedroom. But I never took you for submissive, Alex…who knew?"
Alex glared at Serena until her laughter subsided and then crossed her arms over her chest in the best rendition she could muster of her patented "You're going down, sucker," prosecutor look.
Serena sobered slightly, wiping an errant tear from the corner of her left eye, "I'm sorry, sweetie, but you have to admit you deserved that. I know you two have only been dating a month, but most people don't go around calling their girlfriends by their last names."
Alex's scowl softened slightly and she uncrossed her arms, "I know, you're right; it just slipped out. We've been trying to keep things quiet," she gave Serena a pointed look, "…so I have to practice maintaining some sense of decorum when I talk about her…or when I'm around her. Otherwise," she added softly, "I'd just melt into a puddle every time she walked into a room."
"She's incredible, isn't she?" Serena asked wistfully, leaning towards Alex, hands supporting her head and elbows on the table. No more teasing for now or she'd never get any details from the lovely blond ADA.
"Yeah," Alex conceded and then looked down at her watch. "Speaking of which, I really should get home. I have handcuffs to shine, fetish gear to polish…and all before Olivia comes over in an hour."
Serena shook her head, "No details, huh?"
"No details."
"Oh well, at least I tried." She stood and slipped her coat on before following Alex outside. "Do we still have plans to see a movie next week or will you be tied to a bed somewhere?"
"Well, that depends entirely on what heinously bad Hollywood movie you're trying to drag me to this time." Alex retorted quickly.
Saying goodbye with a laugh, Serena leaned forward and kissed Alex on the edge of her mouth, as if she'd just judged distance poorly, had accidentally missed her cheek. But they had been friends for years and Alex knew better. Ever since Serena had discovered her proclivity for "the softer side of Sears"—Serena's words, not hers—she had incorporated this half-kiss into her goodbyes. A gentle, almost caressing, hand on the small of her back and a kiss that was always too intimate for friendship and too careful for courtship. Alex had never asked her about it and Serena had never indicated that she wanted more.
Alex had Olivia now, and she was fairly certain that the stunning detective was the love of her life. But still, Serena was gorgeous, Alex was feeling a bit brazen, and she didn't think a little flirtation between friends could do anyone any harm. After all, Serena had spent the whole evening teasing her; it was time for her to have some fun. So, for the first time, Alex returned the gesture, tilting her head to place a delicate, but quite deliberate, kiss just to the right of Serena's lips. She pulled away and raised her eyebrows suggestively.
"Two can play," Alex explained easily in response to her friend's surprised expression.
Serena just shook her head. "You'll never cease to amaze me," she said with a laugh as Alex buttoned the last button on her coat and started walking down the street towards her car. "Have fun tonight. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Serena called after her.
Alex responded without turning back, her hips swinging in a manner that Serena knew couldn't be unintentional.
"I'll tell Detective Benson you say hello."
3.
Serena should have known she was in trouble when a slightly frazzled-sounding ADA Kelly Gaffney called her at ten o'clock at night wanting to go out for a drink.
By the time Kelly had reached the bottom of her first Bunny Hop—a terrifyingly multicolored and multilayered concoction that Serena was sure the bartender had simply made up on the spot—she had confided in Serena as "the only lesbian I know" that despite her Irish Catholic upbringing and a string of affectionate, but ineffectual, boyfriends, she was finding herself increasingly attracted to her partner. Serena had met ADA Kibre at various department functions and despite the fact that she agreed with Kelly's assessment of Tracey as "sophisticated, beautiful, and always in control," she certainly didn't envy Kelly's crush. Tracey Kibre had always seemed like a hard-ass to her, an inaccessible fortress with steel nerves and a sharp mind and not someone who would so easily succumb to Kelly's novice advances.
At a loss for what else to do, Serena ordered two more Bunny Hops. One for each of them. It was almost Easter after all.
It was Kelly's idea to go out dancing. Against her better judgment, which was most definitely impaired by at least five different kinds of alcohol, Serena brought them to one of her old haunts, a club she used to frequent long before she became ADA.
Amidst the thump-thump-thump of the techno beat, women from all walks of life—from recent college grads to cops off the beat and in their civilian clothes—were dancing fervently. A large clump of young professionals—from the looks of their perfectly coiffed hair and ultra hip club-wear—were chatting animatedly near the bar and several couples were making out around tables at the edge of room.
Serena turned around, wondering how her friend was handling the overtly lesbian ambience and found Kelly stopped dead in the center of the room, eyes trained on a pair of women who were obviously subscribing to the fashion model of butch-chic. Their short-cropped hair was slicked back, their makeup was light but precise and eye-catching, and they both wore tight pants and tank tops that went well beyond muscle defining and drifted easily into the realm of stunningly hot. Kelly was staring blatantly as the two women writhed against each other, bodies pressed together with nary a hair's breadth between them, hands pulling hips, lips and tongues tangling passionately. One of the women broke the kiss for air, glanced over her shoulder, caught Kelly's gaze and gave her a wink before turning back to her partner. Serena grabbed Kelly's hand and whisked her towards a vacant table. She was starting to think this had been a bad idea.
Serena had to be honest with herself. Part of her was just trying to be a good friend and help Kelly forget her hopeless crush for a few hours. But the other part of her—the part that was still holding Kelly's hand tightly as they plopped down next to each other at the table, the part that had had one too many Bunny Hops, and the part that was very conscious of the fact that her friend's t-shirt had slowly ridden up her torso to expose a creamy expanse of soft-looking skin just above her hip—had some thoughts in mind that were decidedly more than friendly.
Serena reminded herself with a shake of her that she had issued a self-imposed hiatus on relationships, for now anyway. She looked at her companion. Kelly was slumped against her chair, watching the dancers with a glazed expression of awe. All the while, her thumb was slowly, and probably unconsciously, tracing patterns on the back of Serena's hand. She felt the tell-tale tightening of arousal in her lower abdomen and shifted uncomfortably. Shaken out of her reverie by the motion beside her, Kelly turned to face Serena as if suddenly realizing she wasn't alone.
"Why did you bring me here?"
Serena shrugged, reluctantly pulling her hand away, "You wanted to go dancing….And I thought you should see what you were getting yourself into."
"With Tracey?" Kelly asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"With Tracey." Serena nodded firmly, but kicked herself internally for the half-lie. "Can I get you a drink?"
Kelly made a face, an adorable expression of distaste that formed little crinkles on the bridge of her nose. "Noooo…I think I've had enough. To drink, anyway." She reached across the table and grasped Serena's hand with two fingers.
"Dance with me?"
It took Serena no more than a split second to shut out the little voice in her head that reminded her she was walking on thin ice. Following the call of her body, she pulled Kelly out onto the dance floor.
"I thought you'd never ask."
Serena wasn't sure how long they'd been dancing—not touching, circling each other nervously as they moved to the rhythm of the music, and casting shy glances at each other from under their eyelashes—before she finally decided that enough was enough. With little preamble, she slid her hand into Kelly's and pulled her closer.
"I saw you watching those women."
"They were so beautiful together," Kelly confided, wrapping her arms cautiously around her friend's waist and matching the rhythm of her swaying hips.
Serena swallowed hard, "I think you're the one who's beautiful, Kelly."
Kelly paused to look into Serena's eyes, confusion written plainly across her face. Not usually a woman of inaction, Serena leaned in and placed her lips gently on Kelly's, not demanding, just offering, and was surprised to feel her friend respond almost immediately, pulling her closer and kissing her hard. Bodies intertwined and hearts thumping madly, it was long minutes before either woman came up for air.
Serena wasn't sure what all this meant—if this was just fun for Kelly, a diversion from an uncomfortable workplace crush, or something more—but she decided she didn't care. Increasingly distracted by the sensation of Kelly's hand on her thigh and the wet heat of the ADA's breath on her neck, Serena vowed that for tonight she would just enjoy what she had and worry about the details in the morning.
After all, given the choice between kissing sweat off the shoulders of a gorgeous blond and licking the cream out of Cadbury eggs—her favorite solitary Easter preoccupation—she would take the blond any day.
4.
Fighting off sleep, an excruciating headache and an impending uncertainty over encroaching memories of the night before, Kelly rolled over, relieved to find herself in bed alone as she reached for the phone. She couldn't remember everything that had happened last night, but she was pretty sure she wasn't quite ready to deal with it yet.
Filing her bemusement away for later, Kelly spoke a mumbled "hello" into the receiver. It was 8am on Easter Sunday, so surely it was her mother calling to wish her a Happy Easter before going to Mass. She could answer, receive the salutations gratefully and quietly, and then go back to sleep and be released from familial obligations for at least a few hours.
Kelly almost fell out of bed when she heard the husky and sophisticated voice of ADA Kibre over the line.
"Kelly? Hi, it's Tracey. I'm sorry, I know it's Easter, but…"
Kelly shook herself out of her shock long enough to mumble, "Oh…um…no, that's okay. What do you need?"
"Well…you know the McDougal trial begins on Tuesday and I know that we've already planned to come in on Monday despite the holiday to work on opening remarks, but our two terribly efficient detectives have come up with some more evidence over the weekend and I think it would be prudent if we got together to look it over… Today," Tracey added, with a sigh. "I'm sure you have plans and I don't want to ruin your holiday, but even just a few hours…? I'll bring chocolate…"
Kelly shook her head. She couldn't believe it—was Tracey actually trying to sweet-talk her into coming into work on a Sunday. Not letting on that the idea of Tracey pleading with her for anything was enough to make it difficult to get any work done in the first place, Kelly ruefully nodded.
"Kelly?" Tracey's voice rang through the phone," If you're nodding or shaking your head you do know I can't see you, right?" Her tone was firm and matter of fact, as always, but with a hint of a smile that betrayed her amusement.
"Oh! Sorry, Tracey." Kelly tried to recover her dignity and consented immediately, "I'm not really a chocolate lover, but I suppose I can find a few hours this morning. Should I meet you at the office?"
"Sure. And if you aren't into chocolate then I'll try to think of something else. In any case, I'll make it up to you." Tracey said the last part quickly and quietly, as if she were afraid it could be used against her in a court of law, before the phone clicked and the irritated sound of the dial tone made its way to Kelly's ear.
Two hours, a shower, and countless attempts to reduce the puffiness of her red-rimmed eyes later, Kelly walked into the office with as much professionalism as she could muster on four hours of sleep and a persistent, monstrous hang-over. Tracey raised an inquisitive eyebrow as she walked in the door.
"Rough night?"
"You have no idea," Kelly sighed heavily and rubbed the back of her neck, an image of Serena grabbing her hand and pulling her onto the dance floor flashing unbidden into her thoughts.
Tracey grinned, followed by a low and quiet chuckle. "Well, I put the files on your desk. Look them over: a couple hours, tops, and then you can go home and enjoy the rest of your weekend."
Kelly rolled her eyes good-naturedly and nodded, moving off in the direction of her office.
An hour later, Kelly was so engrossed in her work that she didn't even notice when Tracey wandered into her office with her hands behind her back. Hearing the faint crinkle of plastic wrap sliding onto her desk, Kelly looked up, startled, to find a box of neon yellow sugar-coated marshmallow chicks resting on the hard wood surface and Tracey standing above her smiling apologetically. She quirked an eyebrow, eyeing both the candy and the ADA suspiciously.
"Peeps," Tracey explained succinctly in response to her colleague's confused expression.
"Peeps?" Kelly repeated. "You got me Peeps?"
"Well, you said you didn't like chocolate, so…"
"I thought you were a vegetarian, Tracey," Kelly teased, "And you find nothing disturbing about eating the effigies of little baby chickens?"
No one was in the office. She could have yelled from across the room and no one would have heard them, but instead Tracey leaned forward conspiratorially. She was so close that when she spoke her warm breath brushed Kelly's hair where it curled softly over her ear.
"Actually…" She drew the word out alluringly, "I like to bite their heads off first."
Smiling enigmatically and leaning back to her full height, Tracey's mask of professionalism slipped easily back into place, but her eyes betrayed the hint of a smile. Kelly stared at her, speechless, and Tracey turned to leave.
"Happy Easter, Kelly."
5.
The office was deserted—a long holiday weekend she didn't get to participate in because of their court appointment tomorrow compounded the typical ire that Monday's invoked in Kelly on a regular basis. Plus, Tracey had barely looked at her when she had come in, let alone acknowledge their interaction yesterday, and now she had wandered off to who-knows-where to do god-knows-what.
Kelly was startled from her reverie by the clicking of heels—comfortable heels, she mused, shoes made for walking quickly and looking good—on the cool tile of the hallway outside her office. She looked up in time to see an attractive redhead pace twice back and forth between the doors of her office and Tracey's, before perching herself on one of the vacant receptionists' desks in the hallway and checking her watch. She moved both efficiently and gracefully, and Kelly, watching her, envisioned someone who was quick, sharp and smart yet with an infinite sense of patience. Perhaps she was a remarkably stylish social worker. Or a corporate star with three small children at home. Although she didn't look to Kelly like the mother-type.
"Can I help you?" She leaned forward, elbows pressing against the hard surface of her desk so she could peer around her doorframe at the stranger.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you." Alex pushed herself off her perch and walked a few quick steps into Kelly's office. Alex felt she should know this woman who was leaning across the desk and looking at her inquisitively. Hadn't Tracey mentioned some attractive blonde recently? Well, Tracey was always mentioning attractive blondes, Alex thought, smiling to herself, but she was pretty sure her friend had mentioned this one specifically…
"Kelly, right?"
Kelly nodded in acknowledgement, wondering for a moment what she was supposed to infer from the enigmatic smile that had passed over the redhead's lips just before she had spoken her name.
"I'm Detective Eames," she reached out her hand and shook Kelly's firmly. "Alex," she clarified. "I'm here to see Tracey. We had plans until she realized she had to work, but I still insisted we go for lunch. Have you seen her?"
"Not recently, sorry. But I can't imagine she'll be gone long." Alex nodded and, as if on cue, the snap-creak of the door at the end of the hallway announced Tracey's return.
The redhead poked her head out of the office door, "I thought you'd run out on me."
"Alex…" Tracey's voice—deep and precise as always, but betraying an unusual amount of familiarity in the way she drew out the second syllable of the detective's name—pierced through the still air of the office and made Kelly's breath catch for a minute.
What in God's name is wrong with me? Kelly berated herself, before standing up to wait at the door with Alex. She wasn't sure why, but she wanted to meet Tracey, who hadn't said a word to her all day, head-on and so she arranged her limbs against the doorframe in a way that she hoped radiated a confidence she didn't quite feel.
"Oh, hello Kelly," Tracey gave her a brief smile, visibly letting her eyes wander down Kelly's torso and back up again. "I'm going to lunch. We'll go over opening remarks when I get back?"
Kelly wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement, but she nodded.
"Thanks," Tracey placed a hand on Kelly elbow and squeezed before turning her full attention to the detective. "Alex, I'm so sorry to make you wait."
"Well, Tracey, you're nothing if not worth waiting for," Alex responded, deadpan, and then cocked her head to the side with a smile. "Ready?"
Kelly watched as the two women walked down the hallway together, shoulders brushing. She had heard the name Eames before, from cases, but never from Tracey. Were they just acquaintances? Probably not. Friends? At least. She didn't want to let her mind wander any farther than that after the hours she had spent yesterday trying to dissuade herself from daydreaming about Tracey seductively biting the heads of little yellow marshmallow chickens.
Out of earshot, Alex leaned in to whisper in her friend's ear, "She's cute."
"Oh, yes," Tracey purred, barely audible.
"I think she likes you," Alex added conspiratorially.
Tracey shrugged and smiled.
"And you're playing her like a piano, Tracey. You've always been such a tease."
"Really?" Tracey asked in a tone that clearly conveyed that she already knew the answer. She slid her hand purposefully along the small of Alex's back and gestured toward the door, "Shall we?"
Tracey's overly affectionate gesture, clearly visible to the woman they'd left standing in her office doorway, made Alex grin outright, "God, Tracey…"
Traced smirked, knowing she had been caught. Alex huffed, amused, and held the door as they sauntered out into the foyer.
Kelly watched from behind as Tracey's hand glided over the detective's impeccable suit jacket, pressing firmly to guide the redhead towards the door. Jealously welled up inside her as the two women put their heads together and she heard a trickle of laughter skitter down the hallway as they walked out. She had to get this under control or that woman's incorrigible sexiness was going to kill her.
Kelly walked back into her office, sinking heavily into her chair. Speaking of jealously, she had been a horrible friend the other night, talking about another woman all night long and then making out with Serena on the dance floor for over an hour…only to go home alone. She thought her days of all night make out sessions were long over. Kelly sighed, momentarily overwhelmed by her predicament. Maybe she should call Serena. Straighten things out. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say or what her feelings for Tracey meant exactly, but she knew it was unfair to leave her friend hanging out to dry. And, to be honest, she couldn't stop thinking about the way Serena had moved against her body on the dance floor, one hand tangled in her hair and the other firm on her hip.
She definitely needed to call Serena. But first it was time for a few more Peeps.
The End
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