Hello! I've got something of a rarity on my hands, here. A short story. I don't write too many of these, either; and this has turned out to be my shortest one yet. It's also my first A/O-themed piece. I recently went back and re-watched a few of the older seasons, and I realized I really love this pairing. So, I wrote something!
This was written in response to a prompt on livejournal by one scubysnak. The original prompt states, "A fic where our fearless detective is revealed to be afraid of something....like spiders, or frogs, or lizards (something relatively benign)....and either Alex or Casey has to save the day".
I drew from own experience here and went with spiders because a very good friend of mine finds them terrifying, and I have found myself at the murdering end of the "Kill it, kill it, kill it!" stick one too many times.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, and unless a freak accident happens where Dick Wolf leaves me SVU in his last will and testimony, I never will.
Of Sandwiches and Spiders
by
Greeneyesstaring
Olivia Benson let herself quietly into the apartment. She was unsurprised to find that silence greeted her ears, as opposed to the usual symphony of classical music to which she had grown accustomed to arriving. This, while unusual, was unsurprising. Olivia had received a phone call from a very tired Alexandra Cabot earlier that day; the sex crimes attorney had quickly recounted her harried day and informed Olivia that she would be heading home to start work on some of her more difficult cases. Olivia closed the front door carefully, removed her coat, and took special notice that her keys didn't jangle too freely in the silent house.
Olivia had learned quickly that Alex had a tendency to "rest her eyes" after coming home from a hard day at the office to work on her cases. Alex didn't like to admit this about herself; the dedicated prosecutor insisted she simply had a tendency to rest her eyes after working over droll papers in dim lighting. Olivia, however, found it inexplicably endearing to happen upon Alex asleep over her paperwork. Her opinion was biased, she knew, as the detective found just about everything concerning Alexandra Cabot endearing in one way or another, but she minded very little about this.
Before making a round to the bedroom, where Alex was sure to be asleep amidst a spread of manila folders and typed sheets of paper, Olivia decided to make her counselor some dinner. It would be simple, nothing fancy, just something to make Alex smile when Olivia woke her so she could finish her cases. As ideas for a quick, but decent, dinner crossed her mind, Olivia began rummaging through the refrigerator. Finding ingredients with little promise within the fridge, Olivia settled on a sandwich. She quickly constructed the sandwich, her hands moving deftly over the jars of condiments and many ingredients. A thick layer of ham, with little mayonnaise and no mustard, but loaded with tomatoes and lettuce, all on toasted wheat bread. Placing the plated sandwich on a tray, Olivia grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and wandered to the cupboard for a glass.
As she reached for the glass in the cupboard, just beyond the open pantry door, something large and hairy dropped from the ceiling. Olivia froze, her hand halfway between her body and the glass, and her jaw locked. It took her brain three full seconds to register what was before her, and when the image registered, she screamed.
"GYAAAAAAAH!"
The yell was more than enough to rouse Alexandra Cabot from her nap, however rudely, and make her spring from the bed with little disregard for the pen and folders in her lap. Said items flopped unceremoniously onto the bedroom floor as the prosecutor steadied herself on her feet and further assed the situation. A scream. Someone had screamed. Olivia had screamed. Olivia never screamed. Something had to be horribly wrong.
The first thought to jump into her overly-analytical brain was of an intruder. A burglar in the apartment, she figured. And he has Olivia! Overstepping the self-made mess of splayed papers and folders, Alex pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, as they were threatening to slide off of her face, and looked around the room for some sort of weapon. The bed, the pillows, the sheets, the large mirror on the wall, the dressers, and a chair in the corner of the room. Nothing too overly helpful unless Alex decided to hock furniture at whatever the disturbance could be. She turned around, eyeing her closet, and first thing she saw was the pair of black Stilettos she had worn to work that day. Figuring a four-inch heel was better protection against whatever was out there than nothing, Alex muttered a quick "When life gives you lemons...", grabbed what she considered to be the more menacing one of the two shoes, and bravely charged out of the bedroom.
Her socked feet offered Alex little traction on the polished hard-wood flooring, allowing her to slide smoothly (and, as must be noted, with that air of flawless Cabot grace) from her bedroom and into the apartment's living room in classic comedic action film style. The living room was completely devoid of madmen or Olivia. Everything looked untouched: not one book, chair, painting, or rug corner out of place. Holding the high-heeled weapon tightly in her hand, Alex stepped cautiously into the living room. Her eyes darted quickly from one end of the room to another, but saw no one.
"Olivia?" she called out.
A strangled whisper of "In h-here" reached Alex's ears. The attorney's eyes fixed on the kitchen door, which was shut, allowing her no hint as to what could possibly be happening behind it's swinging door. Alex approached swiftly, but carefully, trying to discern what on earth would have made the otherwise unshakable detective yell in such a manner. Holding the high heel aloft, Alex took a deep breath, readying herself to confront whatever evil lay beyond the kitchen door, and swung the door open…to one of the funniest scenes she had ever witnessed.
Detective Olivia Benson, decidedly one of New York City's bravest officers, who could stare a misogynistic rapist in the eye and not flinch, who had incarcerated more child molesters than most people would ever knew existed, currently sat atop their kitchen counter, looking horrified. Her knees were pulled up to her chin, feet resting on the counter itself, one hand gripping the counter tightly, the other held fast around a glass. It was not Olivia's particular position that inspired laughter in Alex, but the source of the good detective's anxiety. Olivia's gaze was fixated on the hairy spider dangling before her, its eight legs waving in all different directions. Mildly surprised, and suppressing an unhealthy amount of laughter, Alex stepped into the kitchen. "Olivia, are you okay?"
"It - just came down from the ceiling." Olivia said, turning pleadingly to Alex. Had Olivia not been consumed by her paralyzing fear, she would have been able to better appreciate the sight of the perpetually cool Alexandra Cabot sporting hopelessly messy bed hair and an expression somewhere between confusion and the face one makes when overcome with laughter of the delusional variety. Olivia would have laughed loudest at the sight of Alex holding her high-heeled shoe aloft, poised and ready to strike. But the detective was, regrettably, too transfixed by the hairy spider before her to thoroughly assess Alex's state. Clutching the kitchen counter, Olivia spoke barely above a whisper, "I was trying to get a glass for juice, and it just sort of boop, came down from the ceiling."
"You know, darling, it can't hear you," Alex said, her cool demeanor returning now that she knew her detective was in no real danger. "So there's no need to whisper." She smoothed her hair as an unwitting smile spread over her fair features and beamed at Olivia. Olivia offered her the best sheepish smile she could manage in return, which to Alex looked almost like a grimace, and begged the counselor with nothing but her eyes to take care of the threat. Alex stepped forward confidently, placing a gently hand on Olivia's knee. "It's alright, it's alright. I've got this."
Alex took the glass from Olivia's white-knuckled hand, trailing a finger down the detective's skin to try and soothe her, and quickly captured the offensive arachnid. Olivia gulped as Alex covered the glass with a napkin and the spider began trying to climb up the sides of its glass cage. In under a minute, Alex had disposed of the spider and quietly came back into the kitchen, where Olivia had valiantly vacated the countertop and now had both feet on the kitchen floor. Alex leaned in the kitchen doorway, her face still bearing the amusement of the situation. "Are you alright, love?"
"I'd made you a little something to eat," Olivia said, lifting the tray (complete with a fresh glass of orange juice) in her arms. "My intentions were to wake you up so could eat it while you worked, but the spider kind of saw to the failure of that."
"Don't even worry, Liv," Alex said, the sight of the sandwich suddenly reminding her how hungry she was. "That spider won't be bothering us again."
"Thanks," Olivia said, looking slightly ashamed as she glanced at Alex. "I just don't like spiders."
"Lucky for you, they're no threat to me," Alex said. She offered Olivia a warm embrace and planted a kiss firmly on her lips. She stared into Olivia's chocolate brown eyes and smirked, "I just never would have pinned you for the irrational fear type."
Not missing a beat, Olivia smiled back, "And I never would have pinned you for the gay type."
Alex raised her glass of orange juice, imitating a toast. "Let's hear it for incorrect assumptions."
FIN.
Well, that was that. My first A/O fic; I don't usually write for couples/ships/pairings, but I like this one, so I don't think this will be my last. If you read, I hope you enjoyed. Please review.