Casey Novak didn't used to like coming home. Especially on weekends. Weekends meant trying to find suitable excuses to go out somewhere without spraining her wallet, any means to leave the unnerving solitude of her apartment. As much as she disliked the midnight warrant calls, they were a good excuse to get out for a while. Kept her mind sharp, she figured. And more importantly, in the loop.
Such a routine had managed to work thus far, in any case. Hell, the conviction rate had gone up, so she had to be doing something right. As far as she could tell the squad had grown to like her – perhaps a little less when she bore bad news – but still liked her. And it was that knowledge, she surmised, that left her in a quandary about as big as the elevator she rode in now. Or maybe it wasn't that knowledge per se, but that it no longer satisfied her that was the problem.
She was self-aware enough to know that she was no longer satiated by this, and had not been for some time. It hadn't been enough for at least a few months, she estimated. Of course, that was before several events had unfolded.
Events such as Alex Cabot reincarnate and Milan Zergin, amateur assailant had probably started the ball rolling a few years ago, Casey guessed. Life went on as it always did. Later, she guessed, came the strange disappearance of Olivia, which Casey now knew wasn't really strange so much as quieting. Nevertheless the fabric of time had continued to weave itself. She couldn't pinpoint where, but Casey knew that somewhere she'd snagged a stitch. Like any scientist could explain, that in itself began a new domino effect of events for the young ADA.
Events such as the periodical meeting at a bar on Fridays after work. Such as the occasional movie night, or early morning jogs on Sundays. Events such as the best Italian food she'd ever had in her life, not to mention the best Chinese, Thai, et cetera.
Events such as a late night stroll through the park every so often, particularly one a couple short months ago. She was cold the entire time save for the short, warming hug she received but oh, how the moon looked that night, reflecting off her pale, pale face. Catching in her hair. Illuminating her eyes in ephemeral iridescent hues of liquid emotion. It was in that instant that Casey got more than a hug. And she gave more than one back.
Such deep introspection had carried Casey away from the elevator, down the hall, and to her front door. And though her key was in the lock, tumblers shifting, she was aware enough to notice the ceasing of the sound, followed instead by the opening of the door. She came back to earth when she registered two soft, warm hands stealing her coat and briefcase, two soft brown eyes locking with her own, and a pair of unbelievably soft lips welcoming her into her – no, what had become their home. Casey returned the gesture generously.
As Olivia's legs locked around her waist, Casey rediscovered an excellent reason for coming home, especially on weekends. She wondered how she managed before, when she lacked that… that joie de vivre, that sense of purpose.
But as their lips pushed into one more melted chocolate kiss, she knew it wasn't necessary.
Being insatiable would be satiating enough.