A/N: not quite the epilogue I planned to write, but I think this ties the story up nicely in a festive bow (oops I lied when I said it wasn't a Christmas story, I guess). Thank you again for your patience and of course, Happy Holidays.
It's the first night out Alex has been able to go to since becoming (temporary) bureau chief. There's still a niggling voice in the back of her head telling her nobody wants to go for drinks with their boss, but she reminds herself that these are her friends, not just her colleagues. Besides, she'd been told under no uncertain terms that she was to come to Joe's, or face the consequences. And she could only begin to imagine the consequences. Her mouth turns up into a soft smile as she thinks of Casey, hands on her hips, a stern expression on her face, wavering only a little as Alex rolled her eyes, making some comment about her being the boss, not the other way around.
In their relationship, she knows Casey makes a lot of the rules.
"It's Christmas, Alex," Casey had said, once the blonde tried to object, moving towards her and flattening out the collar of her suit jacket.
She'd fixed her gaze on Casey, her face fully serious. "It's December 10th."
Still, she hadn't really needed persuading. At the end of the day, it's an easy choice between a mountain of paperwork, and spending the evening catching up with the people she loves most. It's been a while. She hasn't even been able to set aside enough time to spend with Casey lately, let alone anybody else.
There's a sense of deja vu as she steps into the dimly lit bar, searching the room for people she knows, and finally finding them at a corner booth, the usual pitcher of beer replaced by mulled wines and ciders. Amongst the thrum of detectives, Casey is animatedly talking, telling some kind of story, and Alex takes a moment to drink the moment in before making her presence known. Casey has changed out of her work suit, instead wearing a grey and white fairisle sweater out of Alex's closet, her hair loose. Her face is flushed from the enthusiastic way she's talking, her make-up softly smudged already. A wave of affection washes over Alex. This is the Casey she fell in love with first of all. She moves closer to the table, and she recognises the exact moment that Casey spots her because her eyes light up. It's only a second - a warm, genuine smile Casey's unable to suppress, before she turns back to her friends - and it isn't the kiss that Alex wishes she could greet her with, but for now it's enough.
"Second year in a row," Munch comments, bobbing his head in her direction as he passes her a glass filled with steaming liquid, "careful, Cabot, we might start thinking you actually like us."
"Glad you could make it, Al," Olivia adds, her voice soft,. Alex can't help but notice that she looks exhausted. She doesn't remember the last time she had time to check in with her old friend, and is disappointed in herself for it.
"Me too," she agrees, forcing herself to not glance in the direction of her favourite redhead, despite the rich sound of her laugh interrupting their conversation.
She's not even really sure why they haven't told anybody. Alex has known Olivia for long enough to know that she wouldn't think anything of it, that Fin and Munch would be happy for them. The whole team, she knows well enough to know they would keep a lid on it if she asked them to. Nick is sitting with his arm around Amanda's waist, and nobody's mentioning it, so why shouldn't she and Casey be the same? What's different about their relationship?
This has always been her problem, Alex realises. She's too caught up in what everybody else thinks of her. Is she ashamed of who she is? No. So, is she ashamed of being in love with someone as warm and selfless and smart and beautiful and strong as Casey? Of course not. Yet this voice in the back of her head tells her that she has to be discreet, that it's better for everybody if she keep it secret.
The voice sounds suspiciously like her father's.
Casey meets her eye, and the corner of her mouth twitches into a smile, though her eyes are questioning. They haven't really talked about telling people. Casey is firmly in the closet - Alex can't blame her for being wary with how the DA's office is - and Alex is... well, Alex, so it makes sense that they haven't discussed it. It's been a mutual understanding.
"Alex?"
Fin's voice drags her out of her thoughts. She hadn't realised she'd zoned out, but now the whole table are staring at her expectantly, and she has no idea why.
"Hmmm?" She hums, shaking her head, "it's been a long day," she lies. Well, it isn't a lie, maybe just an extension of the truth. All days have been long, lately.
"You want some more wine?" Nick asks, holding the pitcher out to her.
"I think maybe she's had enough," Casey teases, from across the table.
She shakes her head before anybody can make a joke about old age - and she can see one is forming on the tip of John's tongue - draining what's left of her glass and holding it out for a refill. Over the years, she's become an expert at fitting back into the gaps she's left behind, shifting in and out of this group of people more times than she cares to count. But perhaps it isn't so easy anymore. She's not as young as she once was.
Casey smiles at her, then, and it's like the years roll off of her, irrelevant after all.
She'd expected to spend the night pasted to Casey's side, but of course, of the people in the room, Casey's the one she sees most of, and the one she least needs to catch up with. Still, her attention is often dragged away from her own conversation by the sound of Casey's laugh, or the bright look in her eyes as she listens attentively to one of the detectives. Twice, Alex has to ask her own conversation partner to repeat themselves. She's about to go for a third when she notices the look on Olivia's face and thinks better of it. The detective's dark eyes are warm but there's a hint, just a tiny hint of— and in an instant, Alex knows. Alex knows she knows. And then Olivia knows that she knows she knows. And it's actually a lot more simple than Alex ever expected it would be.
"How long?" Alex asks.
"Isn't that my line of inquiry?" Olivia shoots back, but there's something else in her expression, something besides the smug satisfaction of knowing a secret. Something that doesn't look happy.
Alex sighs.
"How long have you known?"
"I'm a detective, Alex. And besides, I know you, remember? I have to say, I was surprised, though."
"Let's not pretend it's the first time I've mixed business with pleasure," Alex says, wryly, "I may not have the reputation of Jack McCoy but only because I'm more discreet."
Olivia laughs at that. Alex knows, without being able to see her own face, the pinched expression she's wearing. She hates to be made fun of, even by one of her oldest friends.
"I just wouldn't have expected her to be your type. She's not quite... as sophisticated as the lovers you usually go for."
"Nor were you," Alex remarks in a low voice.
The dark look Olivia gives her is almost worth it. The word "lovers" hangs there ominously between them, and it leaves a bitter taste in Alex's throat.
"I don't trust her," Olivia finally says, "I don't trust she won't break your heart."
"With all due respect, you don't know her like I do. And it isn't any of your business who I do or don't invite into my bedroom. I thought you knew me better than to question my judgement over something like this."
"Until Robert, maybe I did," Olivia says, bluntly, and Alex winces. "You've changed since WITSEC, Al."
"You think my judgement is impaired?"
She gives Olivia a moment to think that over, glancing across from where they're sat at the bar, her eyes seeking Casey out without her even really meaning them to. They make eye contact, and Casey looks down and away, smiling.
"I think," Olivia pauses, "that I've seen that look in your eyes before, and I don't want it to end the same way it did last time. If she makes you happy, I'm not going to stand in your way, you know that. I just worry that..." She trails off.
Alex softens. "I know, Liv. And I'm sorry for not telling you sooner, it's just... it's complicated. But I am happy. And that's all that you need to know about it."
It comes time to leave, the last dregs of customers already fading out from the old bar, Casey having already remarked more than once that they have to be up early, but all of them reluctant to move. Alex has her coat on, is hovering awkwardly at door, unsure of whether she ought to wait for Casey or not.
When the redhead appears next to her, she realises she's been zoning out again.
"Ready to head out?" Casey asks her, the faintest of smiles on her wine-smudged lips. She's never looked more kissable, in Alex's opinion, but she resists.
"I am," Alex tells her, sinking her hands into the pockets of her pea coat to further prevent her temptations. "Are you?"
Casey nods. They step out of the bar together, the cold wind of the street hitting them as they move along the sidewalk, pausing at a gap in the parked cars to hail a cab. Alex watches Casey as she fumbles in her purse for her cellphone. Her hair is being swept messily around her head by the wind, the tails of her coat flapping behind her, her face hidden in shadow, her mouth with its smooth lines and soft, full lips turned down into a frown. Alex swallows, her mouth suddenly dry, but her heart overwhelmingly full.
"I know the blasted thing is in here somewhere," she mumbles, continuing to search.
"Case?" Alex hums, and the redhead tilts her head up to look at her, her eyes bright, her cheeks and the tip of her nose pink tinted.
Alex moves towards her, a gentle hand stopping the one buried in her leather purse, the other moving into silky, wind-swept hair, soft under her fingers. She kisses Casey gently, to begin with, and then deeper, tugging Casey as close as she can possibly get her. She kisses her like she's starved, like she needs the redhead to breath. Like they aren't fifty feet away from a group of detectives who know nothing of their relationship.
When she pulls away, she almost expects a standing ovation, but finds the sidewalk behind them empty.
"What was that for?" Casey asks, smiling.
The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she blinks them away. It's too soon, she thinks. Not too soon to know, but too soon anyway.
"Merry Christmas," she says, instead, squeezing Casey's fingers.
Casey rolls her eyes, but she's still smiling, "Merry December 10th, Alex," she says, and let's go of her hand, "now can we concentrate on going home? It's fucking freezing out here."
