Title: Will you still Love me Tomorrow?

Author: Kry

Email: kry.for. MA

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I have no money, so don't bother suing me, you'd just get my very slow laptop and a bunch of old journals.

Spoilers: None

Summary: THIS IS NOT A SONGFIC!

The Prologue:

His breath was laced with whiskey, whispering amber sounds of bourbon in her ear. His tongue tinged with tequila, his voice thrumming down her throat, moans tingling her senses with remnants of absinthe; forbidden, off limits. There was gin on her skin, left behind by the work of the day, reapplied by the relaxation of their night as they mingled; on the rocks. To him, in between her thighs was a mudslide...creamy expanses of her that were waiting to be swallowed, hoping to be devoured--something expected at the end of the day, like scotch. They were mixing like cocktails, slowly coalescing on the verge of a martini...waiting impatiently for the olive to complete their tonic. Fervor so high it could ignite a glass of 151, spreading flames that would not be dampened, fever that could not be extinguished. Their drunken lullaby placating them into a sleep induced by aged wine, rich with flavor curled around bodies wrapped in limbs put to sleep by something divinely refined.

Waking to the bitter sting of vodka slipping sorrowfully into their senses, sobering their psyche with the thought of regret. Bittersweet was the taste of the loss of their inhibitions with alcohol poisoning tainting their union...with a hangover poising as threat. Short awkward goodbyes, closed doors and sobering strides..."Will you still love me...tomorrow," on both of their minds.

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There was nothing she could do, no refuge she could run to, only the wood worn from her pacing. There was only her and her phone, clutched in her hand by fingers threatening to dial the number of the man who only hours before had departed from her bed. She was in no rush to justify their night, nor was she ready to rush into the resentment of their coupling. No, Casey Novak was not prepared to ask the questions she knew would have to be answered, nor was she ready to accept the answers.

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"So how'd it go last night?" Olivia sat on the edge of her seat, paying close attention to her partner, who sat disheveled next to her as they watched whatever game he had turned it to on the television.

"How was it supposed to go?" Elliot asked beside her, short temperament evident in his retort. She raised her eyebrows then, almost sure they had reached her hairline, as she stiffly sat back on the couch.

"Look I know this case is extra hard on you, but you don't need to take it out--"

"We had sex."

There was no need to ask him to repeat, she heard him loud and clear. The only thing she could do was take another sip of her open beer, sitting it on the table in front of them.

"We were going over what I was going to say on the stand, you know, be prepared to give my full testimony. It just hit me, Liv, it hit me hard. I thought when I finally broke down I'd want to hit something, that I would just lash out like I always do. This time it was different. I felt so down, like I hit the bottom. She was there, patted my back told me it would be okay..."

She looked at him; they weren't veterans of outright sharing their feelings. She didn't know what to say, she tried to block the small pang of jealousy caused by the fact that he'd opened up to Casey before her, but now wasn't the time to asses that situation.

"Do you regret it?"

"No, but I don't know if she does. We were drunk, Liv. And how much I hate to blame things on inebriation, but I know that that was where my courage came from."

"I mean come on El, you've liked her for the longest, why not explain things to her, this is the perfect opportunity to let her know how you feel."

"Maybe you're right."

"Good."

"Or maybe you're wrong."

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"Should I call him?"

"Why not? You did nothing wrong, Casey, people copulate every day."

"John, you make it sound so...clinical."

"Would you like a synonym?"

"No thanks, thanks for coming over, I tried calling him, I just couldn't do it. I have this weird feeling it was only supposed to be a one night stand."

John laughed then, biting on the dinner roll she had given him moments before.

"Elliot's last one night stand lasted twenty years. He isn't that type of person Casey, and I'm sure he knows your not," he chomped down on his dinner roll, finishing the round bread in two bites, "and don't glorify sex, its not some sanctimonious coupling of reunited souls everyone makes it out to be. I swear, it's just a conspiracy to--"

"Okay, I think it's time to go now John."

"Fine, fine. Just don't over think this one counselor. Take the time to think about where you want it to go. It's not the time to hide the elephant, so don't try to fit the tusks into the closet."

He left then, taking another roll in his wake. She sat, her head on the back of her couch, the phone mysteriously finding its way back to her sweaty palm. She didn't remember dialing the numbers, and she was quickly jarred by the voice on the other end.

"Stabler."

End of Chapter one.

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