DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and all characters are property of NBC and Dick Wolf.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Silly Overtime Thing
By Del

Damn it, this wasn't the Dowd file. Alex pressed the buttons for her new secretary's extension. "Muffy?" she called.

Not at her desk-what a surprise. That left the ADA two options: Wait for the errant employee to return from whatever she was doing wherever she was doing it, a period of time that, based upon past experience, could range from approximately five to forty-five minutes, or go get the file herself.

"Muffy?" she tried again.

Alex pressed her lips together. She would get Chief Deputy D.A. Charlie Phillips - "Uncle Charlie," as Muffy called him - if it was the last thing she did as an employee of the New York County District Attorney's Office. Actually, it probably would be the last thing she did as an employee of the D.A.'s office, but it would be worth it.

Rising from her chair, Alex cradled the file under one arm and headed for the huge room at the end of the hall. As usual, a small crowd was gathered at the water cooler just inside the entrance. She glanced at the group as she passed by, but her secretary-in-absentia was not among them. Instead, it appeared to be three young women from administrative services.

"Big news on the Benson front," one announced excitedly.

In the D section, a hand paused in midair. Benson?

"Olivia Benson?" It appeared to be the shorter blonde one. Alex struggled to remember her name. Melissa, wasn't it?

"Who else?" The tall brunette was Ivy, Alex vaguely remembered.

"What's up?" a third voice piped up. Marie Something? Maria? She really needed to pay more attention to who was handing her things to sign.

"She just hit 43 hours of OT for the month," Ivy said.

"Oh, my god!" Melissa squealed. "Cutoff time!"

Oops, Alex had lost her place. She'd have to start her search over. DAIN . . . no . . . DAVIS . . . no . . . .

"She'll just go off the clock." Alex couldn't tell which one said it. "That's what she always does."

"Nope!" Ivy replied, grinning slyly as if she knew something they didn't.

Cut the smug and just come out with it, damn it! DAWLISH . . . no . . . DAWSON . . . no . . . .

"Last time she got caught," Ivy said. "She was staking out some plastic surgery clinic in January and HR found out about it. They sent her an e-mail: Any more work off the clock and it's a writeup for unauthorized use of department resources."

Dr. Leus, aka Loose Zipper? Olivia hadn't said a word when Alex asked her to do that surveillance. Why hadn't she just said she was capped on her overtime? Alex could have arranged an investigator from her own office perhaps.

"Why would they care, if it's off the clock?" Maria asked.

The ADA knew the answer to that one. Because an employer has to pay for work it "suffers" to be performed, even if it's not authorized.

"Benson doesn't want another rip," Ivy concluded. "She told me next time she maxes out, she's just gonna go home on time for a few days. Next pay period starts Sunday, so . . . ."

"So she's free tonight, tomorrow evening, and Saturday!" Melissa finished for her.

"Exactly. This is our chance, girls."

Their chance for what? . . . DEAN . . . DENNIS . . . Alex continued her meticulous search.

"She said she might try to get a social life," Ivy said.

"Oh, I'll give her one," Melissa replied saucily.

"I'll give her one, too," Maria echoed. "Any 'social life' she wants, as many times as she wants."

This was disgusting, Alex decided. Talking about Olivia Benson like she was a piece of meat to be thrown on the bed and tenderized.

"All I can say is, if Olivia Benson likes big girls, you guys are in trouble."

Big girls? The other women laughed, and Alex tilted her head slightly to peer at the side of a file folder. From the corner of her eye, she saw Melissa posing, hands pressed against her sides as she thrust out her oversized breasts.

Alex glanced down at her own chest.

"Maybe she's an ass woman," Ivy countered, wagging her annoyingly pert posterior. Alex studied her reflection in the glass. Not really much of an ass there, she had to concede. This wasn't her best suit, though.

"Well, you know what they say," full-bodied Maria said. "Nothing like a little meat on the bone . . . ."

Alex's frown deepened.

"OK, who's first?"

Melissa flipped open her cell phone. "Detective Benson? This is Melissa from supplies . . . I'm good; how are you? . . . Well, we've just changed our requisition procedures. The new ones are kind of complicated, so I wondered when would be a good time to go over those with you . . . Gosh, it's hard to find time during the day; too bad you're never free for dinner . . . You are? What a coincidence! . . . Tonight's fine. I'll stop by about six."


She had barely hung up when Maria from records arranged to discuss new DD-5 codes with Detective Benson tomorrow night over drinks.


Last up was Ivy from personnel, who appreciated the detective's willingness to look over a draft of the new training manual Saturday evening.


"May the best woman win, ladies," Ivy said.

"Or all the best women," Maria smirked. "I'm guessing Benson has plenty of stamina."

Could this conversation be any more appalling? Alex's brain flashed to an image of Olivia stumbling in on Monday, sinking tiredly into her chair, snoring away the lunch hour with the side of her face plastered to the top of her desk.

"OK, we all meet here at noon on Monday to report in," Ivy said.

This was ridiculous. Olivia Benson was a mature, sensible woman. Why would she be interested in young, hero-worshipping bimbos blatantly throwing themselves at her with their . . . big boobs . . . round butt . . . soft curves. Damn.

"Miss Cabot?"

"Ack!" Alex screeched. "Here it is!" She quickly snatched the DOWD file from the second shelf. "Sorry, did you say something? I wasn't paying attention; I was just getting my file here. I didn't realize you were there. Have you been there long? Hi."

"Miss Cabot, SVU won't be in trial or anything the next couple of days, will you?"


Ivy smiled brightly. "Great. Just wondered." She high fived the other two. After tossing their Dixie cups in the trash, they headed back to their cubicles.

Ba-da-dum. Ba-da-dum. Ba-da-dum. Alex's fingers drummed against the desk top. A glance at the clock confirmed that it was 5:45 p.m.

She was happy for her friend. She really was. Olivia would be going out in fifteen minutes - fourteen now - with an attractive young woman who probably would be stripped down to her thong before they even left the squad room. Good for Olivia.

She picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number.

No, she couldn't begrudge the detective an evening with a brazen trollop who would probably bury her face between Olivia's legs at the first stop light and not come up for air until breakfast.


If anyone was overdue for a good time, it was Olivia Benson.

And if anyone was a party pooper, it was Alexandra Cabot. "Olivia, I need your help on an apartment search," she said, digging around in her inbox for the fax she knew was in there somewhere.

"Uh . . . tonight?"


"I can't, Alex, I've maxed my OT."

"I can override that."

"What case is this?"

"It's a request from the 2-0."

"From Snerdlesky?"


"I thought you said the next time you talked to Snerdlesky, you were going to tell him to pound sand," Olivia said.

Trust Olivia to remember that.

"You said he was a sniveling, two-faced, back-knifing weasel."

And that. "That was a different Snerdlesky," Alex said.

Olivia exhaled into the phone. "OK," she said. The next words were muffled, and Alex realized she was speaking to someone. For just a moment, she experienced a twinge of remorse. This was wrong. Petty. She was just jealous of Olivia going out with these women, plain and simple.

These women going out with Olivia.

These women.

Alex froze at the realization. She was jealous of these women. Oh, my God.


She came back to herself with a start. "Yes. Sorry."

"I took care of things at my end. Should I come over?"

"No!" Oh, hell. "I mean, no, I'll come over there. It's on the way." Guilt flooded the attorney. Spoiling Olivia's rare chance at a good time because she wanted the detective herself. Was it too late to back out? "But, did you have plans? Because I could probably . . . ." Probably what? Admit the truth?

"Nah, nothing, really," Olivia said. "It's OK."

Great. Olivia was trying to spare her the awkwardness of knowing that she had ruined her evening. I'm such a bitch.

"I'm sorry, Olivia," she said sincerely.

"Hey, it's not a total loss," Olivia joked. "I get to score points with the ADA."

More than you know.

As the next afternoon wore on, Alex refused to look at the clock. She wasn't sure when Olivia was meeting Maria, and she didn't care. She wasn't going to yield to childish temptation again.

The door opened, and Olivia stepped into the office. "Hey, Counselor."

"Olivia, what are you doing here?"

"I had to drop something off with Donnelly. I just thought I'd say hi before I head out."

Alex looked her over. Was that the same blouse Olivia was wearing this morning? "Did you go shopping at lunch?" she asked.

Olivia chuckled. "Good eye," she said. "I felt like something new."

"It looks great on you." Alex's resolve was beginning to slip. Go on, Olivia. Go give Maria her happy hour. Go, before I do something we'll both regret.

She looked up to see the detective leaning casually against the doorway, one knee bent in front of her. Who could keep their hands off her? No one. Maria would have her up against the wall in the restroom of that bar within five minutes.

"Well, I'm off," Olivia said. "After last night I'm really maxed on my OT, and it doesn't look like you need anything, so--"

"Yes, I do!" Alex was almost as surprised by her outburst as Olivia. She snatched a printout off her desk and held it out. "Registered sex offenders within a 10-mile radius of Wisteria Park. We need to check them."


"Branch is really on my back about this."

"The last attack there was four months ago."

"She had connections. Friend of someone or something."

"Well . . . ." Olivia skimmed the first sheet, and then the second. And the third.

"Actually, don't worry about it," Alex said, reaching for the stack. "I've been in the mood for some field work anyway."

Olivia jerked the printout away from her grasp. "Questioning sex offenders?"

"It's not like I don't do that every day, Olivia," Alex pointed out.

"Yeah, at the station house, surrounded by cops," Olivia objected. "Forget it. I'm doing it."

"Why don't we both do it?" Alex asked. "Some of these guys live in the same apartment building."

After thinking about it a moment, Olivia reluctantly agreed. "OK. Just let me make a quick call." She stepped into the hall with her cell phone.

Alex Cabot, you are going to hell.

Was this too little, too late? Probably, Alex's conscience admitted, but at least it would assuage her guilt a little. She strode up to Olivia's desk. "I see that you're on mandatory leave Thursday and Friday," she said.

"Yeah," Olivia said. "Those witness interviews Saturday night triggered mandatory comp time."

"Well, I just want you to know that I can guarantee you will have no last-minute assignments," Alex said. "I've put in to have those days off, and I'm going to the beach or something." Some place with no phone and no way to yield to selfish desires to screw up Olivia Benson's social life. OK, sex life. She could admit it. She turned to leave again, having said her piece.

"You wanna hang out together?" Olivia asked.

Alex turned back around. "Hang out together?"

The detective smiled shyly at her. "At the beach," she said. "Then maybe dinner at one of those cafes?"

Alex blinked, trying to process the stream of images racing through her head. Olivia Benson in a swimsuit. Olivia Benson shaking water from her hair as she laughed and ran toward Alex through the sand. Olivia Benson handing Alex a bottle of suntan lotion, unhooking the back of her bikini top and asking her to-

"Hey, nevermind," Olivia apologized. "You probably had plans or something."

"What are plans between friends?" she said quickly. "I think I owe you something for last week." A social life, to be exact. And Alex was going to give it to her.

On Monday morning, Detective Olivia Benson stumbled into work, sank tiredly into her chair, and snored away the lunch hour with the side of her face plastered to the top of her desk.

"What's with her?" Munch asked.

Elliot shrugged. "Must be all that OT . . . ."

The End

Return to Law & Order Fiction

Return to Main Page