DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and all characters are property of NBC and Dick Wolf.
PAIRING: Casey/Olivia, finding a deplorable lack of good C/O fanfic out there, I jumped into the fray. So I can attest not to the quality, but only to the voracity of the writer. Continuity errors are mine, and mine alone.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SPOILERS: mid-Season 5-ish.

Reckless to Forget
By Katie Ramsey

Casey Novak hung up the phone with a heavy sigh. Just what she needed to cap off a terrible afternoon, she thought, a cranky SVU captain and a detective that wouldn't answer her phone. It certainly wasn't her fault that Petrovsky now had a bee in her bonnet about the search warrant, though, she supposed, her detectives weren't to blame, either.

She lolled her neck from side to side, stretching the tense muscles there. She needed a long bath, a glass of wine, and a screaming orgasm. Well, she thought callously, she could probably work at least the first two in if she could just find her damn detective and get home at a decent hour.

Things couldn't ever be easy around SVU, however. Elliot and Munch were tied up in interrogation, and Olivia was the only other detective that knew anything about the case. And currently, she was MIA. Sure, Cragen had given her the day off, and had a pretty good idea where she'd be, but the last thing Casey needed was a scavenger hunt.

She restlessly gathered up her belongings, shoving paperwork into her briefcase, not really minding if it crumpled. She took one last glance at herself in the small mirror by the door, checking her teeth and hair before turning off the lights and locking the door behind her.

O'Roarke's was the fourth dive she'd been to in an hour, by far the lowest in reputation of all the cop bars in the city. Somehow it didn't surprise her that Olivia was here. She ignored the leers that she received from the patrons as she strutted her way towards the bar.

"Hey," Casey slid onto the barstool next to Olivia's, and gestured for the bartender. "Gin and tonic."

Olivia didn't say anything, but out of the corner of her eye, she appraised ADA Novak with a severity she usually only reserved for convicts and religious propagandists. There wasn't much to disapprove of. Novak's court apparel consisted of the spring-green suit that Olivia was particularly fond of, a cream-colored scarf that wound round her neck and up into her gleaming red locks, and forties-style stockings with the seams straight up the back of her lovely, toned legs.

"What are you doing here?" Olivia asked, ungraciously.

"Looking for you, if you'll believe it," Casey retorted, no small amount of sarcasm evident in her tone. "I called your cell three times."

"I took the afternoon off," the detective answered shortly, taking another long sip of her scotch.

"Yes, I noticed," Casey gave the seedy bar a withering appraisal. "But unfortunately for your pity party, we have a case going to trial tomorrow morning that can't be put off until noon so that you can recover from your hangover."

"I'll be on the stand at nine, fresh as a rose," Olivia shot back.

"And completely unprepared," a file folder plopped down on the bar in front of Olivia and she glanced at it dubiously.

"What's this?"

"Motion to suppress the gun," Casey replied, curt. "Apparently a misuse of force complaint was filed this afternoon by Defense Counsel for the good Mr. Akers, and then motion was filed to suppress the gun by reason of duress."

"Doesn't sound like anything you can't argue your way out of," Olivia snorted.

"Petrovsky doesn't think so. She wants to see you and Elliot in chambers tomorrow morning."

"Why us?"

"The arresting officers, respondents on the complaint," Casey pointed to the highlighted portion of text.

"Godamnit," Olivia took a last gulp of her drink, and then brought her empty glass to the bar with a resounding crash.

At the detective's unusual display of emotion, Casey's aggravation finally began to twinge with something a little more akin to worry.

"At first I just thought this was to annoy me, but you're really upset about something," Casey's voice lowered and she found herself moving closer to the other woman. She laid a warm hand on the sleeve of Olivia's leather jacket.

"Wow. Maybe you should be a detective, Counselor," Olivia replied bitterly.

"Quit fucking with me, and tell me what's wrong," Casey cajoled, not put off in the slightest by Olivia's bitching.

"Nothing's wrong," the other woman shrugged her shoulder away.

Casey's drink arrived and she took a slug without missing a beat. "It's Alex, isn't it?"

Olivia's throaty laugh startled the young counselor. "Funny you should say that, Novak."

"You've heard from her?" Casey's inquisitiveness couldn't be corralled, even at the risk of being too nosy for her own good. Olivia was mildly surprised that the young attorney was aware that ADA Cabot's death had been faked, but she covered it without hesitation.

"Ahhh, that's the rub," Olivia's next drink had arrived without Casey's notice, and the woebegone detective managed to drink half of it in one smooth swig. "I haven't heard from her. At all."

"Well, she is in witness protection," Casey's voice lowered to a sardonic whisper.

"In this day and age?" Olivia snorted, equally quiet. "Used to, witness protection meant you were shipped off to some random small town, where you lived out the remainder of your life never able to contact the people that you left behind. You tell you mother you're suddenly living in Chicago, she stops to pick up the Tribune to see what kind of weather you're driving around in. Some mobster's tailing her, puts the word out you're in the Windy City, next thing you know, you've got a bullet in your head. Now we have all kinds of anonymous technology and communication, e-mail, fax, cloning cellular phones, the works. Witness protection is a whole different ballgame now…and you know…the riffraff doesn't change. You think that jackass Vellez has hackers sitting around waiting for me to send e-mail to some random free ISP? Hell, no. He thinks Alex is dead. So what would be the harm in calling to tell me she's okay, that she's not completely crazy yet?"

Casey sat quietly for a moment, absorbing the high points of Olivia's rant.

"She may feel safer knowing she's not putting you in danger," she offered, somewhat mildly.

"What danger?" Olivia exploded. Other patrons looked up from their billiards, their half-empty mugs. Casey gave them bland smiles, and frowned at the detective darkly. "I've got a gun, and I know how to take care of myself," Olivia hissed in her defense.

"Okay, so let's assume she's not worried about you," Casey's soft tone was harsh despite her volume. "Why wouldn't she contact you?"

"I don't know," Olivia sighed, defeated.

"I know that…" Casey hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. "I know that…you and Alex had a history…"

"Really? Astound me with your perception, Counselor."

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious from your juvenile display of testosterone here this afternoon that you loved her, or at least you think you did."

Olivia didn't confirm or deny the statement, but her eyebrows were raised in cautious curiosity.

"And she was straight, so your affections weren't returned. Don't get me wrong," Casey smiled icily. "I think you're probably a pro. You never came right out and told her you prefer the fairer sex, you probably never even slipped her hints that you were attracted to her. I've seen you in action, Olivia, you're smooth."

Olivia's surprise must have been evident, but Casey plunged forward mercilessly.

"Maybe you told her you'd like to have her over for dinner some night, for a little quality girl-time. Or maybe you just vocally disapproved of every date she ever had, but for vague reasons like he didn't seem like her type, or he wasn't ambitious enough, never that he didn't have enough pussy for her."

"You sound like maybe you know a little something about wanting what you can't have," Olivia's smile was dangerous, but her eyes glittered with unshed tears.

"Oh, believe me, I could write a book about heartache. Dormmates who never notice you stare a little too long when they come flouncing out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel, or girlfriends who can't seem to understand why you hate every single man they date," Casey snorted in mirthless laughter. "But is that any reason to sit in a bar on a Tuesday afternoon and get shitfaced?"

"She's been gone exactly one year today," Olivia admitted quietly, finishing her drink, swallowing tears that wouldn't come.

"And if you let yourself, you'll be sitting on this same barstool a year from now, ordering rounds of …what is that? Whiskey sours, and crying over the same woman."

Olivia smiled faintly, "Scotch and soda." She lifted her glass in a sad sort of toast, and caught the bartender's attention.

Casey's lean hand snaked out to grab Olivia's wrist. "Don't."

"Don't what?" Olivia turned to Casey, almost accusatory.

"Don't do this to yourself. Don't stay hung up on someone who is little more than a myth, now."

"Oh, it's that easy, is it, Novak? I should just get over it? Does Thursday at 3 work for you?" Olivia rolled her eyes.

"No, it's not easy...but you've got to take the first step at some point."

"And what would the first step be?"

"To get your ass out of this bar and to quit moping, for one," Casey replied, a little ruthlessly.

"This isn't some schoolgirl fantasy, Casey," Olivia murmured. "I cared about Alex. We were friends. I don't think she would want me to give up."

"You were friends, yes. And if I were the one who had to disappear suddenly, I would be relieved that the people I'd left behind still cared about me, and still thought about me. But like you said yourself, she hasn't called. For all you know, this is a part of her life that's she's completely put behind her."

Olivia reached for her drink again, and again, Casey stopped her.

"The first step is coming home with me," she blurted. Olivia's eyebrows rose almost to her hairline.

"How's that?" she asked, surprised.

"Come on, girls' night," Casey winked, hoping Olivia caught the double entendre. "I'll make dinner, and we'll...talk."

"Oooh, can we watch Pretty in Pink and paint each other's toenails?" Olivia snarked, a genuine smile erupting at the last moment.

"Don't be a smartass," Casey warned playfully. "You may not have liked me in the beginning, but I think I'm starting to grow on you," her smile was feral, but Olivia couldn't deny that it was refreshingly adorable.

"You saved a kid's life, I can't not like you," Olivia noted, with a deferential nod of her head. She reached her hand between them to pull Casey's drink to her. Casey's sharp intake of breath as Olivia brushed against her breasts told the detective everything she needed to know. She took a small sip and grimaced.

"You surprise me…I sort of pegged you as a white wine spritzer, Counselor," Olivia quipped.

"I have a feeling there's a lot you don't know about me, Detective Benson."

"So what makes you think you've got me figured out?" Olivia challenged.

Casey leaned in very close, so close that her lips brushed the detective's ear as she murmured, "oh, I see the way you look at me, Detective."

Olivia turned her head just slightly into the other woman, and shifted her gaze downward.

"Did you think that I just...accidentally dropped that pen? That I just happened to need to pick that file up off the floor? Do you think its arthritis that keeps me bent over just a little longer than necessary?"

"And here I was starting to think I was imagining things," Olivia retorted dryly. "After that first day, when you asked me about my boyfriends...I thought you were straight. I thought you were just teasing me to be a bitch."

Casey threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, that? Call it...testing the water. As if I believed a single word of it." She leaned in again, her tone growing husky once more. "You didn't fool me for a second."

"No?" Olivia's eyebrow rose speculatively.

"The jacket…the hair…the attitude, I knew exactly what you were. And I knew I wanted you the first moment I laid eyes on you," Casey resisted the urge to nibble Olivia's earlobe. This was all about words; physical foreplay was definitely something to save for the bedroom.

"I saw you for the first time, and I thought, 'what an uppity bitch.'"

"I'm not surprised," Casey said quietly. "What do you think now?"

"My opinion has changed," Olivia admitted. "Radically."

"Good," Casey gave her a meaningful glance. "I want us to be friends, Liv."


"You never know," Casey flirted.

"Still feel like going over that testimony?"

"I think we can probably work it in, somewhere," Casey grinned. She pulled Olivia off the barstool with a gentle hand and dug around in her purse for a twenty to pay the tab. Leaving it on the bar, she escorted her companion outside into the late afternoon dusk.

They caught a cab uptown to Casey's apartment, sitting an appropriate distance apart on the shiny vinyl bench seat. The made banal conversation, first about the weather, and then about the upcoming elections, ever mindful of the cabbie's frequent glances in the rearview mirror.

Ditto for the doorman at Casey's apartment, they opted not to wait for the elevator, and instead just climbed the two flights to her door. Casey fumbled through her purse for her keys, ardently aware of Olivia pressing her body into Casey's from behind, her breath hot on the redhead's neck.

"Olivia," she murmured as the lock gave way and the door swung inward. Olivia had Casey turned around and pinned to the door within seconds, kissing a trail down her neck in a blatantly possessive gesture of affection.

Olivia murmured into Casey's alabaster skin, pulling Casey's arms around her neck as Casey threw back her head and panted.

"As much as I adore you, this is a little public," Casey managed to gasp, gesturing to the hallway, which was mercifully empty at the moment. "Anyone could walk by."

"Spoilsport," Olivia stepped away from her blushing lover, noticing that the gossamer scarf that had been threaded around her throat was now barely hanging onto the shoulder of her suit. Olivia plucked it from its precarious position and brought it up to her nose to inhale Casey's essence, never breaking eye contact with her.

"The bedroom is that way," Casey pointed, and then reached for her earrings. Next came her necklace, and then, pulling the scarf back from Olivia's grasp, she disappeared into the bathroom. Olivia could hear the metallic rasp of the zipper on her suit, and the gentle rustle as it hit the floor.

Olivia shed her jacket and then sat on the edge of Casey's unmade bed to remove her shoes and socks. She had just taken off her jeans, and folded them up when the bathroom door opened, and a creamy white leg appeared in the doorway. Casey was brushing her teeth, bless her. Olivia smiled and looked down at her own body for a quick appraisal. There was nothing too bad; she hadn't eaten anything offensive, her deodorant was still working, and the panties she'd chosen that morning miraculously didn't have any holes or tears. She didn't frequently have to worry what anyone thought about her undergarments, and the thought that today she'd worn her best pair, despite having no clue how the day would end, was both comforting and frightening.

The water ceased running, and Olivia took a deep breath when her peripheral vision caught the extinguishing of the light in the bathroom. She turned, and Casey emerged, her head ducked, her long, red hair now cascading around her slender shoulders. Her full slip was charming, the straps barely-clinging to her shoulders, the thin silk not able to obscure her pert nipples.

Olivia approached Casey with a reckless sort of abandon, she was aware of the alcohol still pulsing through her system, making her brave.

"You are so gorgeous," she whispered, making Casey blush. Olivia wondered if the other woman was having second thoughts, and so she hooked a finger under Casey's chin to bring her gaze up. She saw nothing but desire in her glowing green eyes and a bashful uncertainty about her body.

She leaned forward to meet Casey's mouth with her own, their first real kiss. Lips touched, and Olivia's fingers went for Casey's hair, winding the locks around her skin deliciously. She pulled Casey's head back gently, angling her mouth upwards so she could better ravish the shorter woman. Casey was on tiptoe, her arms around Olivia's waist, when they broke apart, gasping for air.

Olivia pulled Casey towards the bed, gently laying her down on top of the rumpled sheets. Casey's emerald chemise stood out in sharp contrast to her ivory skin, and her breath, coming rapidly now, caused her breasts to bob enticingly as her chest rose and fell. Olivia reached for the hem of the satiny undergarment, letting her fingers graze the skin of her partner's upper thighs, and Casey twisted against her, bucking for more contact. Casey lifted her arms dutifully as Olivia pulled the slip up and over her head, and then tossed it carelessly to the floor.

Olivia lowered herself onto Casey, rubbing her clothed breasts against pale bare ones, and sliding a long, lithe thigh between those of her young goddess. Casey's fingers were up under Olivia's shirt, pulling against the plain white cotton of her bra in an attempt to get at her breasts. Olivia's laugh echoed through the room, husky, as she pulled her own shirt up and off, and then reached back to unclasp her bra.

Her full, dusky-tipped breasts fell into Casey's questing hands, and Olivia felt her nipples being rolled expertly between thumb and forefinger. Deciding to let Casey take the lead for a while, she shifted and rolled onto her back, and reached her hands out to help Casey straddle her body.

The younger woman was soon sitting on Olivia's stomach, staring down at the playful brown eyes of the detective.

"Why Ms. Novak, you appear to be just soaking," Olivia admired politely, causing Casey to grin adorably. Casey brushed her aching clit against one of Olivia's erect nipples several times on her trek up to the head of the bed. Settling comfortably on her knees, her thighs astride the face of possibly the most sensual woman she'd ever met, she carefully lowered herself into position, bracing her long, artist's fingers against the rich cherry oak of the headboard.

"Oh, God," she threw back her head and moaned indecently as Olivia's tongue made first contact. Long, slow strokes against her wet, warm body, and soon Olivia had set a pattern that was driving her wild. Swirl, nip, flutter, swirl nip flutter, swirlnipflutter. She didn't realize how lost she was until she heard her companion's grunt of surprise, and only then did she become aware that she was bouncing, aching for more contact. She stilled her motions, allowing Olivia to continue, wanting to pull her own hair out at the unbearable feeling.

When Olivia slid a single fingertip into her body, Casey lost it, falling backwards onto her lover's body, arching her back as orgasm ripped through her. The last pleasurable shocks were ebbing from her body when Olivia rolled Casey over onto her stomach and nipped her shoulder.

"We need to find a safer position for this," she teased, but Casey couldn't think of a clever retort when her body was still singing with pleasure.

"Mmmmm," she agreed, moaning breathlessly as Olivia kissed her way down Casey's spine, nuzzling the soft globe of her bottom before spreading her thighs apart. Two fingers in, and Casey was trembling, pulsing around her knuckles, begging her in a breathy whisper not to stop, to take her on forever. Casey's eyes fluttered shut at the almost painfully arousing sensations that Olivia was providing. Olivia established a rhythm and speed that she could tell Casey loved, if her backward thrusts and calling out to God were any indication. It didn't take long to bring her young love to climax again, and Casey shuddered with release, a low cry swallowed.

Casey was still for only a moment before rising from her prone position and pulling Olivia down to the pillows. She was invigorated, fervent as she kissed and sucked at Olivia's lips, tangling tongues. They made out like teenagers, which wouldn't have been so ironic if it weren't for the fact that Olivia was easily ten years older than the beautiful attorney was. She forgot all about the difference in their ages when Casey reminded her with quick darting tongue across turgid nipples that she had been taught well. Casey placed her hands on Olivia's breasts as she continued kissing in a trail down Olivia's tummy, the detective thought with a repressed laugh that Casey didn't want them to be lonely.

Her thoughts rapidly unraveled as Casey displayed her skill as a cunning linguist. Soon Casey had her on the edge of oblivion, bunching the royal blue duvet between her palms, her knuckles white. She exploded in a wave of pleasure, groaning loudly. Casey pressed sweet kisses against her thighs, murmuring endearments. Olivia laughed with a dizzy pleasure that she hadn't felt in years; her head resting back on Casey's perfumed pillow.

Casey was kissing her tummy, her breasts, her exposed neck and throat, and finally her mouth, much more softly now, the urgency waned. Her cool fingers stroked along Olivia's cheek, she nuzzled Olivia's earlobe gently, placing refreshingly light kisses against her partner's overheated skin.

"I may never get out of this bed," Olivia threatened idly, her voice as thick as molasses on an autumn day.

"You're not going to hear me complaining," Casey sighed contentedly, rolling over onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

"Didn't you actually lure me up here under the guise of going over some paperwork?"

"Very funny," Casey replied, reaching for her gown. Olivia sat up in bed, and kissed Casey's bare shoulder when it came back within range.

"Why don't you go get it, and I'll order up Chinese?"


"So you look like the cat that ate the canary," Elliot nudged his partner's shoulder as they climbed the marble steps to the front of the courthouse.

"I'm not saying a word," Olivia replied smugly.

"Oh, come on, Liv..." Elliot wheedled.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," she said primly, allowing him to hold the door open for her. A warm rush of air hit her exposed face, and she wondered if it was worth the risk to de-scarf. Elliot waggling eyebrows told her that it probably wasn't. She'd never hear the end of it.

Casey gave her a discreet once-over as the detectives approached, and Olivia grinned recklessly at Casey's own high collar.

"Petrovsky ready for us?" Olivia asked, all business.

"Oh, yeah," Casey rolled her eyes. "Like a hungry tiger."

As they headed towards Chambers, Elliot gave them both a careless smile.

"Nice shirts, ladies. Gives whole new meaning to the term 'necking.'" He strode ahead, headed for the restroom before the inquisition.

"Next time, trip him," Casey whispered out of the side of her mouth.

"Oh, yeah."

The End

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