A/N: I'm glad you all are so emotionally invested in this story! To answer some questions, yeah the next story I post is going to be heavily A/C, but an ensemble piece, set around season 12/13. I'm sorry I haven't got that up just yet I've been concentrating on updating this one.
The start of this chapter is very similar to the last chapter - I wanted to explore Casey's thought process. I'm sorry that doesn't move the plot forward as much, but the rest of the chapter should!
Casey sits in her hotel room feeling stupid for at least an hour, mulling everything over and over, before she eventually feels like she's driving herself mad, and decides to go for a run. The batting cages would be preferable - taking her frustrations out on an inanimate object for a couple hours always being the best therapy - but she'll take a run at a pinch. She sweeps her hair up into a loose ponytail, pulls on a t-shirt and yoga pants, and is soon lost in the sound of her feet pounding against concrete, the wind whipping at her hair, tension draining out of her with every step.
In New York, she doesn't have much time for running, occasionally going for a jog late at night when a hard case is pressing on her, but more frequently letting it get pent up inside without any kind of release. She rarely has time for softball these days, SVU taking so much energy out of her, so much more than when she worked in White Collar. Occasionally, she'll swing by the basketball courts, but more than anything else, she feels out of place.
By the time she comes to a stop, after running up and down through the winding roads away from the hotel, and now, down onto the sea front, she's struggling for breath, and stops only because she has to, her legs threatening to give out. She's run more in the last three days than she has in a year. It's a good ache, though. She hasn't had a chance to think about Alex, to reminisce, or agonise, over the night before, not even for a second.
Except, of course, as soon as Casey reaches that realisation, she's thinking about her. She can't help it. Alex's eyes are the colour of the ocean spray, and her hair as golden as the sand beneath Casey's feet, and when she closes her eyes, Casey can think of nothing but her. It sends a giddy feeling through her, and it's embarrassing, but she can't stop herself from reliving the night before.
And no amount of running is going to take that way.
She goes back to the hotel, careful not to even risk a glance into the window at the Harbour House, not wanting to catch even the smallest glimpse of blonde hair. Only when she's back in her own room does she relax, leaning against the door, eyes closed, and pressing the heels of her hands against her temples. How could she have been so stupid, to think that someone like Alex might actually be interested in someone like her? And now, how naive was she to think that she could just let it go that easily, like it was nothing, like it meant nothing.
I might not be the best Catholic, but I am better than this, she thinks, pressing her hands into her face until stars start to dance behind her eyelids. She's spent her whole life trying to deal with feelings she didn't want to make sense of, but this… this is different. She can pretend as much as she wants that this was meaningless but it isn't.
And now she's fucked everything up. Again.
Every single element of her life has felt like it's been out of her control for the longest time; her work, the up-hill struggle that it's been to get the detectives she works with to trust her, that's only the tip of the ice-berg. She's been able to pretend for so long that she can control her feelings, but one kiss from Alexandra Cabot, and she can feel herself spiralling, clinging on with everything she has.
She doesn't deal well with rejection, never has done. It seeps into her bones, a disease she can't get rid of.
This isn't you.
But, god, it is her. She's always been a mess.
"You're not doing this," Casey growls under her breath, forcing herself up from where she's slumped against the door, and yanking her t-shirt off over her head, practically tipping her suitcase over in her haste to search it. Finally, she tugs her bathing suit out, a last minute addition that she hadn't really expected to find a use for. If running wasn't cutting it, maybe a cold swim in the sea would snap her out of this nonsense.
She's drying her hair with a towel when she sees the familiar figure heading towards her on the beach. It's quiet. The sun is starting to go down, pushing most people out to the restaurants along the sea front, or back to their hotels. A few children are playing in a rock pool, their parents still stretched out on the sand; two men are tossing a frisbee around a little further down, but the beach is quiet mostly. Alex isn't the only person going for an evening walk along the waterfront, but she's the only one who Casey takes notice of.
Scooping her hair over her shoulder, Casey steps into her tennis shoes, watching Alex out of the corner of her eye. She looks lost in her thoughts, completely unaware of anybody else's presence, let alone Casey's. Something about how troubled she looks, the way she stops, closing her eyes, looking just as lost as Casey feels, is momentarily reassuring. It's enough to give Casey the confidence boost to call after her.
Alex addresses her without even looking at her, and Casey feels her heart sink. She doesn't know what she wants to say, hadn't really thought that far ahead. An apology doesn't seem right, but it slips out all the same, even though she knows immediately that it's the wrong thing, especially when Alex sighs, finally turning to look at her. Alex pushes her glasses up onto her head, smoothing out her hair, and Casey watches her, feeling the tenseness right down to her bones.
If Alex is being hostile, she can be hostile too. She can pretend she doesn't care. She's spent long enough forcing herself.
"Maybe we should start over."
"I think it's a little late for that," Casey says, honestly, and she knows she means it. That's kind of the problem. It was too late the moment she decided to show up at Alex's work with ice cream, the moment she agreed to split that bottle of wine. The moment she allowed herself to go home with her.
"Why, because you've seen me naked?"
Casey almost scoffs. She almost tells Alex to grow up. But in that split second, she makes a decision. Maybe the same stupid decision she made the night before, only this time she can't blame it on the alcohol. The words come out of her mouth before she can stop them, before she can process what she means. Or maybe she already has processed it, and realised that no matter how far she runs, how long she spends trying to drown it out under water, it's not going to go away. Feelings aside, she craves Alex. She hasn't stopped thinking about her all day.
Only, once the words have come out, she realises how exposed she's making herself. She thinks if Alex turns her down now, she'll spend the rest of this vacation tearing herself apart until there's only tiny pieces of her left to go back to New York. She can't explain it, doesn't want to put a label onto it. This was supposed to be fun, Novak. But she knows this was inevitable, that she's never been able to just have fun.
"Your hotel this time," Alex says, and Casey's heart practically leaps into her throat, "and I want room service afterward."
Alex walks with her hand on the small of her back, smiles, says good evening to the clerk at the front desk, presses the buttons on the elevator without even waiting for Casey's approval. She's charming, professional, every bit the Alex Cabot that Casey remembers from New York City.
Until she isn't.
She stops her from pulling the drapes. She pushes the thin fabric of Casey's dress up to pool around her hips, and pauses to brush her hair to one side, to whisper into her ear that she doesn't care if they're seen, like maybe she wants them to be seen. And Casey's never thought she'd be into that, but suddenly the thought is there, planted, in Alex's husky voice, breath warm on her skin, and she feels her heart race as Alex leads her to the bed.
She leaves the drapes.
Alex's hands roam over her thighs, her hips, kissing her hard. She pauses when they reach the bed, pulls her dress up and over Casey's head, tossing it behind her, not caring where it lands. Casey reaches for her blouse, already partly undone, and tugs it loose from her skirt, capturing Alex's lips in a long, hungry kiss as she peels the fabric from her body. She's determined to give as good as she gets. Her lips find their way to the hollow of Alex's throat, down to the dip of her collarbone, and she nips at the flesh of her shoulder, as Alex wrestles with the tie of her bikini top.
"Trying to level the playing field?" Alex pants, finally struggling the knot loose, as Casey reaches to unhook her bra.
"'Trying'?" Casey quips, her face still buried in the curve between Alex's neck and her shoulder. She sinks her teeth lightly into the soft flesh there, smirking when she feels Alex exhale deeply, a hiss of a curse word on her breath.
Once Casey's finally managed to work the hooks of her bra undone, Alex lets her guide her down flat onto the bed, slowly pulling the silky garment off her, one arm at a time. Casey wriggles her black pencil skirt off, too, leaving Alex in nothing but her underwear. As the blonde tries to sit up, Casey shakes her head, gently pushing her back down, before climbing onto the bed herself, straddling her.
"God, Case—" Alex mumbles as Casey rubs against her, purposefully slow, before slinking down to kiss her.
Even the brush of their bodies, through clothes, sends shivers through them both. Alex strains, her hips bucking, before Casey pushes them down flush to the bed with her thighs.
"You were so quick to decide we shouldn't do this again," Casey says, through laboured breaths, "how about now?"
Alex stares up at her, arms pinned to her sides, her eyes dark with raw lust, and her lips already slightly swollen. She shakes her head, chest heaving with every movement, and Casey smiles down at her, without a hint of malice. She visibly relents, dipping her head to scatter soft, tender kisses across Alex's jawline, before moving slowly down her body. She's aware of Alex's fingers curling in her hair now that she's let go of her, hands roaming elsewhere, but Alex's touch is gentle, not like the night before.
She gasps when Casey's lips close around a pink nipple, their eyes meeting, before Casey looks away, unable to stop herself from blushing. She's trying so hard to control this situation, but she feels like a fraud, can't quite perform the way Alex had. Still, she's eliciting the reaction she wants, as she lazily circles the bud with her tongue, her hand dropping to between Alex's thighs. She slips inside the sodden fabric of her underwear, and Alex practically whimpers at the contact. It isn't enough, even as Casey runs the tip of her finger through the wetness, before drawing back.
"You're a tease," Alex grinds out, attempting to lift her hips for closer contact.
"No, Cabot," Casey murmurs, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Alex's ribs, "what you did last night was teasing," she rubs her finger ever so slowly over the very tip of where Alex wants her, enjoying the resulting shudder, the sharp exhale, "I'm just taking my time."
They do order room service. Casey puts on one of the cotton waffle robes hanging in the closet, smoothes out her hair as best she can, and brings in the tray of food herself, hoping the delivery guy doesn't notice the dark marks on her neck. Alex is sitting up in the bed, the sheet pooled around her waist, naked aside from the glasses that are perched on her nose.
Casey at least has had the foresight to pull the drapes, now.
"How you can want to eat after that, I do not know," Casey says, bringing the tray to the bed, and sitting down beside Alex.
"How can you not need to eat after that? Food consumption after vigorous activity is a standard. I thought you played sports?"
Casey rolls her eyes, but she's blushing, even as she lays the tray out on Alex's lap, fussing with the accompanying cutlery, "hunters chicken, though? Really?"
"Hey, it's just what I fancied," Alex says, taking the cutlery from her before she can spend any more time trying to arrange it neatly, "are you sure you won't eat some?"
"I'm perfectly happy with my coffee, thank you."
"Suit yourself," Alex shrugs, lifting the lid off the plate of food, as Casey leans across to retrieve her coffee cup from the end table, prepared to refill it. She's already halfway across to the machine, when she realises Alex isn't eating, she can't hear the scrape of the knife and fork on the plate.
"Hey, I paid good money for—" she pauses when she sees the look on Alex's face, and follows the blonde's line of vision down to her plate. On first glance, everything seems normal, but then she sees it.
It's spelt out in the thick, smeary barbecue sauce.
"BITCH"