Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own these characters. They belong to Dick Wolf and NBC.
A/N: This was my first SVU fic. It's set in Season 6, sometime after Intoxicated.
It was quarter past eight when Olivia's cell phone rang. The ringing seemed almost deafening against the silence of the practically empty squad room.
"Benson."
"Olivia, it's Casey."
Olivia leant back in her chair, grateful that it wasn't Elliot or Cragen informing her of crime scene that she had to get to. She didn't have the energy.
"Hey. What can I do for you?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to go halves on a bottle of red wine with me."
Olivia glanced down at the small pile of unfinished reports on her desk. They could wait. Right now, wine seemed a much better option than work.
"Sure. Where? Your office?"
"Fine. Makes it easier for me," Casey admitted with a laugh.
Olivia smiled. "Okay. I'll be there soon."
When she hung up, Casey surveyed her office. It was actually fairly tidy. She got to her feet, flicking the main light on as she went to the cupboard where she kept all of her non-work related items. Such as the bottle of red wine.
Casey was trying to remember what she'd done with the two glasses that she usually kept in the cupboard when Olivia arrived in the doorway.
"Come in," Casey greeted her. "Sit down."
She gestured towards the couch. Olivia slipped off her jacket and sat down. Casey, having found the two glasses on the top of the cupboard, sat down next to her.
"I hope I didn't interrupt your work," she told Olivia.
"You did," Olivia admitted, "But it was a welcome interruption." She paused. "Do you have a corkscrew?"
Blushing slightly, Casey went over to her cupboard and got out the corkscrew. Olivia took it from her as she sat back down.
Once Olivia had poured them each a glass of wine, they both leant back on the couch, wine glass in hand. An awkward silence fell for a moment before Casey spoke.
"Had everyone else gone home?"
Olivia nodded. "Elliot, Cragen, Munch, Fin; they'd all left me to wallow in paperwork."
Casey smiled into her glass. "Do you mind being the only woman?" she asked.
Olivia thought for a moment. "No," she admitted, "I don't. I sometimes forget that I'm female and they're male. At the end of the day, we're all working together, doing the same job, trying to put the bad guys away."
"You've got to be tough to be so strong," Casey said admiringly.
"Isn't that tautology?" Olivia asked teasingly.
Casey blushed and Olivia felt a little mean. She knew what Casey meant. She was so used to talking to Elliot like that that she'd forgotten that not everybody understood her teasing was only meant affectionately.
"Sorry, I was only – "
"It's okay," Casey assured her with a smile, "It didn't make much sense anyway. It sounded better in my head."
Olivia laughed. "I have that problem a lot." Her expression became more serious. "You have to be pretty strong to do what you do as well. It's just strength in a different way."
"I suppose so," Casey agreed, sounding almost reluctant. "But I feel bad sometimes. It's nice to be triumphant but I don't like being a bully."
"You never come across as a bully," Olivia assured her.
They both lapsed into silence. This silence was more comfortable that their earlier one. Casey drained her glass and poured herself some more wine. She offered the bottle to Olivia, who declined with a shake of the head.
"Can I ask you something?" Casey questioned, taking a sip of wine.
"Sure."
"What's it like working alongside Elliot every day?"
"It's – it's – " Olivia hesitated. "I can't really explain it," she admitted. "I've become so used to our partnership that it's become so natural that I don't even think about it any more."
"Ah."
"Why?" Olivia shot Casey a grin. "Don't tell me you've got a crush on him?"
Although she didn't answer, Olivia could tell what the answer was by the fact that Casey's cheeks had turned the colour of the wine she was sheepishly slurping at.
Olivia couldn't help but wonder what Elliot thought of Casey. She knew that he liked and respected her, but Olivia had always assumed that it was nothing more than a friendly work relationship. As Casey's cheeks returned to their normal hue, Olivia wondered if the relationship between the two was more than that. Then she pondered on why she cared at all.
"Some people are intimidated by you two," Casey said suddenly.
Olivia glanced at the ADA. "By Elliot and I? Why?"
"You've been partners for so long that you seem to know what the other is thinking," Casey explained. "You share glances that no one else understands. It's intimidating to some."
"I've never known that," Olivia said with surprise.
"I remember the first time I met you," Casey continued, "At first I was just intimidated by you because I sort of knew Elliot already. But when we went to the crime scene, the two of you kept exchanging glances every time I spoke and finishing each other's sentences."
"We sound like a married couple," Olivia mused, pouring herself another glass of wine.
"That was one of the reasons I wanted to leave almost straight away," Casey went on, as if Olivia hadn't spoken, "The case was awful and it was definitely too much for a first case, but the two of you made me feel even worse than I already did."
Realising what she'd said, Casey clamped her hand to her mouth in horror. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"
"Don't worry about it," Olivia said coolly. Her voice softened. "I'm sorry we made you feel that way. It was just hard for us to accept a new ADA after – "
"After what happened to Alex?" Casey finished gently.
Olivia took a large gulp of wine. "Yeah," she murmured, "I still forget sometimes that she's not our ADA any more."
Casey reached over and squeezed the detective's hand. Olivia squeezed back.
"More wine?" Casey asked, holding the bottle towards Olivia.
Olivia pulled her hand out from under Casey's to take the bottle. She poured herself some more then considered the amount left.
"We may as well finish it," Olivia said, "There's not much left."
"You finish it," Casey instructed her, "I've had more than you."
Olivia poured the last drop of wine in her glass. "We've had half a bottle of wine each, " she remarked, "And we're still speaking sensibly. I'm proud of us."
"Maybe we can hold our alcohol well," Casey suggested, her tongue tripping over the word 'alcohol'.
"Okay, that's it," Olivia agreed with a grin.
"So has anything ever happened between you and Elliot?" Casey asked, drawing her legs onto the couch and leaning towards Olivia confidentially.
Olivia couldn't help but smile. "If you mean romantically, then no. Besides, he was married until recently anyway."
"You wanted something to happen then?" Casey enquired eagerly.
Olivia laughed faintly. "We're not in court now, Casey. Stop treating me like your witness."
Olivia's final word slurred slightly and Casey grinned in triumph. "Slurred words. First sign of drunkenness."
"I'm not drunk!" Olivia exclaimed defensively.
Casey poked a finger towards Olivia. Unfortunately, it was a finger connected to the hand holding the wine glass. Red wine slopped onto her skirt.
"Oh no!" Casey blurted, jumping to her feet.
Olivia slid the glass from Casey's fingers and placed it on the table.
"What gets red wine stains out?" Casey demanded, her voice laced with panic as she watched the stain spread across her khaki skirt.
"White wine or rubbing salt on it," Olivia replied quickly.
Casey looked down at Olivia with raised eyebrows. "How d'you know that?" she asked.
Olivia smiled weakly. "I had experience with my mother," she reminded Casey.
Casey looked ashamed. "Sorry," she mumbled, "I should have remembered. Sorry Olivia."
Olivia didn't want to be drawn into a conversation about her mother so she waved her hand dismissively and instructed Casey – who was now dabbing furiously at the stain with a napkin – to leave the stain alone.
"But I don't have any white wine or salt," Casey wailed, reluctantly allowing Olivia to take the napkin from her and pull her back down onto the couch, "The skirt will be ruined."
Olivia shook her head. Rubbing a hand across a tired eye, she assured Casey that the skirt would be fine. "Have you got any spare clothes?"
Casey looked miserably down at the seemingly ruined skirt. "I've got some jogging pants with me. I'll change into them before I cycle home."
Olivia leant her head against the wall behind the couch. "He never talks to me any more," she murmured.
Casey turned questioningly towards the detective, but Olivia's eyes were shut. "Who, Elliot?"
"Mm. He keeps blocking me out."
Casey wasn't too sure what to say. She knew how close Elliot and Olivia were and she couldn't deny that she'd noticed their indifference lately, but she hadn't realised that Olivia would mind so much. For some reason, Casey had just assumed that they talked when they were alone so that no one else probed Elliot with questions that he didn't want to answer. From the pained expression on Olivia's face, it seemed Casey was wrong.
"He'll come around in his own time," Casey comforted Olivia.
Olivia suddenly opened her eyes, turned to Casey and laughed. "You should have seen your face when you saw the stain on your skirt!"
Casey joined in the laughter. When it faded away, Olivia glanced at her watch. "I should go," she announced.
"So should I," Casey agreed. "Trouble is, I'm not too sure how straight I can cycle."
Olivia smirked. "Why do you cycle anyway?"
"Better for the en – en – environment," Casey stumbled. She paused. "Uh, I can't speak properly."
"Can't hold your drink," Olivia teased, "I know your secret. Want me to give you a lift home?"
"No, it's okay," Casey reassured her, "There's a few things I better finish up here before I go anyway."
Olivia got to her feet and slipped her jacket on. "I'll see you tomorrow then. Thanks," she waved her hand towards the empty wine bottle and glasses, "For this. It's been fun."
Casey beamed proudly. "It has, hasn't it?"
At the door, Olivia stopped and turned back. "We should do this again some time," she commented.
Casey smiled, pleased that her and Olivia seemed to be friends. Or at least friendly.
"Yes," she agreed, "We should."
Olivia left and Casey looked at the red wine stain that was now nicely embedded into the material of her skirt. Maybe they should have white wine next time.