I literally just wrote this in like half an hour.
I'm sorry if it sucks but I needed to write something.

I've been rewatching season one and omg I've had some feels.
Brian is so adorable when he gets all angsty after his and Olivia's one night stand.
So yeah, this is a kinda angsty one-shot.
Brian Cassidy POV.

Please let me know what you think!

lyrics: let her go - passenger

Staring at the bottom of your glass
Hoping one day you'll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast

You see her when you close your eyes
Maybe one day you'll understand why
Everything you touch surely dies

Only you know you love her when you let her go

.

She is using me.

I know she's using me, for months she's been calling me up when she gets bored or has a bad day, when she needs something to take the edge off. We'll go for a drink, and another and another until she'd con me back to her apartment for a night of raw sexual passion. Then she'd do anything she could to get me out before morning.

Don't get me wrong, I am a willing participant. Truth be told I'd do anything she asked me to, she fascinates me. Safe to say I'm completely into her.

She's just not into me.

It never really bothered me in the beginning. First time we went out for couple of drinks after a rough case. I knew she saw me as a dumb rookie detective, way out of my depth when it came to special vics and you know what? I probably was. I feel like I got better though, the more time I spent focusing on cases and researching, the more I learned about the way of the svu world, it was never an open and shut case. I started paying more attention, to the evidence, the alibies, the detectives around me, learning from the best. But to her I was always the dumb one; I could never live up to the great Elliot Stabler, with his macho looks and his military background, his temper and his charm.

I honestly didn't care that much. He didn't see what I saw, in that way I was the luckiest bastard alive. He didn't get to spend much time with her outside of work; he had his wife and kids, his loving family welcoming him home every night. Like me, she had no one. She had a dark empty apartment and nothing but her thoughts and memories of days spent with victims and perps, hearing the cruellest of the cruel explain away their crimes, their reasons for violating women or men or in the worst cases; children.

The child cases are the worst, for everyone. No one can handle the children.

I remember one of the last child cases we had; the whole squad was pulled together for it, an uncle, abusing his twin nieces, threatening to kill the other if one of them told. I threw up on the street after hearing their stories, I just couldn't take it.

That's when she first asked me out. Just for a couple of drinks to take our minds off of everything, I obviously said yes.

Like I said, I was the lucky one, I got to see her let her hair down, I knew what drinks she liked at particular moments of the night, start with a beer, maybe wine, on the bad cases she'd start with shots, needing a quick burn then she'd get a little buzzed, feel the heat hit her body and her troubles would begin to slowly fade from her mind. Sometimes she'd confide in me, sometimes she wouldn't. Sometimes we would sit in that bar for two hours and not say a word but that didn't matter, it was comfortable. It was comfortable knowing that someone was there, by your side, even just for a while you weren't alone.

Sometimes when she felt freer than usual, she'd give me little snippets from her wonderful mind, she'd tell me little stories from her past, tiny little two minute random details from her days at the academy or a little sneak peek at her high school life or even little moments from her day, work related or not, it didn't matter to me, I would always listen. I didn't know much about her childhood other than her mother was a drunk, she told me that once, when she was drunk. She had downed a couple of double vodkas and laughed claiming that vodka was her mother's 'weapon of choice'

I lived for those moments, those little bouts of freedom where she felt trusting enough of me that she could tell me anything. I felt honoured that she would be like that with me.

Fuck it, let's be completely honest here, I think I'm in love with her.

I don't know if I am, I've never been in love so I can't honestly say, but I'm pretty sure I am. If I'm not then I think I'm close to it. I feel like that geeky kid in school who always gets picked last in gym class, the one who's secretly in love with the prom queen but doesn't say anything because there is no way in a million years she'd ever be with him.

That's why I'm here, at this smoky bar, filled with regulars who practically have their name carved into the ratty barstool that they fill every night until closing time where they stumble out the door, stumble home and fall into their own bed in the suit they wear to their dead end, nine to five job only to wake up three hours later and do it all over again.

They have this stupid little bell hanging over the door, like a quaint little café or a corner shop, it jingles every time someone walks in, and it's fucking annoying. This one time it didn't bother me so much because I turned my head to see her eyes. They're always the first thing I notice; they are so dark it's captivating. I nod my head at lift my glass in her direction, she smiles when she notices and makes her way past the drunken bastards who act like they've never seen a hot woman before and try and feel her up. She rolls her eyes and sits next to me as I down my third shot of Jack Daniels. I need the burn tonight. I need the harsh, raw feel of the whiskey scraping its way down my throat.

"Hey" She grins "What are you having?" She grabs the bartender's attention.

"Jack"

"Rough day?" Her hand reaches for my shoulder, it's almost as if she cares, I can't help but chuckle at the gesture.

"Something like that."

We sit in silence for almost an hour, she downs a few shots, asks me some usual mundane questions and I reply with one word answers, maybe a couple of words but tonight, I'm just not in the mood. I throw back my fifth shot of whiskey and take a swig from the beer bottle I purchased just moments before she walked in, I gaze down when I feel her hand fall the bar top to my thigh, her hand practically burning me through my jeans.

"Wanna get outta here?"

"Sure."

I follow her out, like a decent guy, I let her lead the way out, I hail us a cab and hold the door for her as she tells the driver her address. I throw the guy a twenty to cover the ride and clamber out the cab, again, holding the door for her. I know I'm drunk, maybe a little too drunk. I feel my knees wobble a little as I follow her up the steps to her building.

As soon as we are hidden in the elevator she kisses me. I love how she kisses me, always a little hesitant a first, teasing almost. Her breath against mine, her breath vodka stained, mines whiskey stained. I hear a faint moan when her lips finally hit mine. I love kissing her, her hands always grip my waist, I don't know why. She always pulls at my shirt, just a little, gripping it tight in his fists. My hands make their way into her hair, keeping her body pressed against mine; she opens her mouth, our tongues gently playing war with each other.

She doesn't even break the kiss when we reach her floor; she pulls me out of the elevator, keys in hand as we stagger our way to her front door.

I know I'm drunk. I feel myself falling into her apartment, glad she is in front of me, practically holding me up. She yanks at my shirt, having already pulled my jacket from me and thrown it to the floor, her nails scrape down my torso, I feel her smiling and moaning into the kiss.

I love the sounds she makes. She admitted to me that she's never really been vocal in bed but I somehow brought it out in her. She can never keep her mouth shut with me and I love it, I love the way she moans into a kiss or her stuttering breathy groans when she gets close to an orgasm, the way she'll grab a hold of any part of me she can, her nails digging into my skin, begging to god and to me to give her what she wants. I love how her mouth opens in a silent scream, just for a moment before she calls my name as she not so much falls as she does dive head first over the edge, dragging me with her. She gets this glow afterwards, it's beautiful. I only see it for a few moments before she practically shoves me out of her bed and out of her apartment.

I'm lucky I even get to see this part of her.

I gather my thoughts as her hands fumble with my belt buckle; I pull her away and put my hands on her shoulders, pulling back from our heated make-out session.

"I can't"

Confusion covers her face as she steps back from me; I put my hand against my forehead, wishing the room would stop spinning.

"What's wrong Brian?"

"I can't do this with you anymore." I grab my jacket from the floor and struggle to get it on.

"What the hell?"

"It stops being friends with benefits when one of you starts feeling something. I feel something. I feel a lot for you Olivia. I don't want to, believe me, I don't." I can feel a rant coming on and I know I have to stop it but I can't.

"I don't want to feel that feeling I get when you make me leave after we've had sex. Do you even know that feeling? When your heart physically hurts, you get this numb feeling take over your body, you feel it in your hands and in your legs, and your chest feels like it's being crushed, like someone is literally squeezing your lungs. I don't like that feeling. And I sure as hell don't want to feel it about you."

I see a flash of something across her face, I can't tell if its pain or heartache or if she's just really wanting me to leave.

"I don't want to feel this way about someone who only thinks of me as a dumb lonely cop who has no clue about anything, who has so little of a social life that he'll literally drop everything he's doing just to come and see you. And you know I will, that's why you call me. I don't want this feeling in my heart that maybe; just maybe if we gave it a shot, we could actually be something. Because let's face it, I'm not Elliot Stabler."

She opens her mouth to say something and I can't help but cut her off again, the room is spinning now, I need to leave but I can't help but get this all off my chest.

"I'm just some idiot cop, some lonely guy who you can play around with until you get bored, or it's because you're bored that you do it, I have no idea. I just know that you barely give me the time of day when we're around other people, it's like I'm an embarrassment to you and it makes me laugh, it does. I find it hilarious that around other people you get impressed when I use a 'big' word or I actually happen to get something right on a case for once. I've got all of these feelings that just go to waste on you because you can't feel anything. What the fuck are you afraid of? Do you really care that much about what people think that if they found out about us they would think less of you?"

"Brian, I don't…" She starts to speak and stops again, unable to find any words.

I know I'm being harsh, I think it's the whiskey; I never did act well after drinking whiskey. I just shrug and head for the door. "I know that's what you think, don't try to tell me it isn't...When it's just us, Liv, you're a completely different person, it's amazing. I don't know if it's just for me or if you're like this with others but I like it. I like being able to talk to you without you rolling your eyes at me or scoffing when I make a comment, it kinda hurts when you do that by the way, especially in front of the rest of the squad. I already know everyone thinks I'm an idiot, I know I'm not the brightest spark but seriously, I thought you were different from the rest of the guys. I'd give you the fucking world if you asked for it Olivia and you don't even care."

"I'm gonna shut up now and leave." I pull the door only to feel her hands grip my wrist.

"Don't go…"

I look into her eyes, I don't know what it is but something is different. "Please, stay, just for a little bit, we can talk."

I just shake my head and break free from her grasp, finding my footing as I leave her apartment.

"There's nothing to talk about, remember? We got drunk; it was never anything special right? And don't worry; I won't tell anyone, I wouldn't want your reputation ruined"

.

And you let her go

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.
THANKS!