Wow! A chapter and a oneshot all in one day! Aren't you all lucky?

Disclaimer: actually, I own Law and Order SVU and Dick Wolf is my manservant...oh, wait...that was a dream.

Anyways, this a oneshot with the lyrics from "I think about you" by JoDee Messina woven into it. You don't need to have heard the song to understand the story. I wrote it as a Casey/Olivia fic, but the way it's written it could be Alex/Olivia if your heart so desires. So, read and review! And enjoy.

I look into my coffee cup. Bad Idea. Well, ok, not so much. I smile as I flash back to your eyes, that deep mocha that matched the color of my caffeinated beverage. I sigh deep and looked out the window. The people pass the small coffee shop as if it doesn't even exist, like their eyes just slip from the office building on one side to the bank on the other. It's one of my favorite things about this café, a small piece of tranquility in a rushed city. The sun is just coming through the alleyways, the cold city blocks tinged with a golden shine.

I turn my attention back to the street. Unnamed faces pass, and I wonder if any of them ever felt as good as I do right now. Out of the corner of my eye I think I see you. I do a quick double take as my rational mind tries to calculate the incredibly unlikely chance that you would actually be walking down this street at 6:30 in the morning. Of course it wasn't you. I didn't really expect it to be. Well…maybe I did.

The events start to play in my mind: what I would do if it were you. I would run out to you…no…I correct myself, I'd walk ever so stealthily behind you, surprise you. Wrap my arms around your shoulders. I chuckle. Even if I could get that close to you unnoticed; you'd probably kick my soft lawyer ass.

I can't stop my grin as I realize what the image of following you would look like…your adorable ass in the tight blue denim you insist on wearing to work, I think just to annoy me. I start again, looking around for you. I could have sworn I heard your voice. I'm so ridiculous. Boy, I have it bad. It's almost like you're here. I close my eyes and wrap my hands around the steaming cardboard. My fingertips tingle as I imagine they are touching your skin, slowly moving up your bare arms, around your flat stomach. I startle myself out of the daydream before I do something I regret…like make a very un-lawyer-like noise in the middle of a very small coffee shop.

Everything seems to remind me of you. Every person walking by has some aspect of you. The very air speaks your name and it feels like my feet haven't touched the ground yet this morning. I can hear someone singing…it's peaceful…kind of like the way you look when you're relaxed, leaning into the couch, inviting me into an embrace, your smile unmatched by anything I've ever seen and holding a joy that I'm sure I've never felt until now.

The morning sun glares softly into the windows. The heat seems to bounce around me, as if my mood could get any better. I sip at the last of my coffee. It's sickly sweet. The sugar has all sunk to the bottom. I rub my finger along my bottom lip, savoring the taste of sugar, mixed with a little coffee. It tastes like your kiss. Where did that come from? But it does. That tentative, slow kiss that you like to do. I lick the sugar off my finger. I like the way the taste of them both linger on my lips. You taste like sweet coffee.

I stand and toss my cup in the trash on my way out. I love this hazy feeling. These moments between work and pressure, when all I feel is the way I feel for you. I'm floating on air. I squeeze my briefcase, to make sure its still there. I'm walking…no, that's not right. I'm not walking, I'm…sauntering. Sauntering is a good word.

Suddenly, I see a woman walk by with a butterfly broach. I realize that I've seen a lot of butterflies today. There was a butterfly outside my window this morning…and the girl at the coffee shop had a butterfly on her shirt. Don't get me wrong, I like butterflies, but this time it seems to mean something. I take a shaky breath, my stomach flutters, like a butterfly's wings, I realize. I'm beginning to see butterflies everywhere. There's a field of them in my mind. Their freedom, their light, uncaptured beauty, like my heart, enraptured with the feeling of flight. I'm running through the field of butterflies…to you. I sigh again. It's predictable…corny even, but it still sounds right.

I narrowly miss a head on collision with an agitated business man. I can't help but grin at him. I'm head over heels and I'm drunk on the mere thought of you. This is so bad. I never do this. I'm never infatuated like this. I bite my lip and pull myself out of the sidewalk traffic to collect myself. I'm leaning against a building. Do I even know where I am? It doesn't really seem to matter. Work seems like something so far away. No one will mind if I'm five minutes late, I rationalize. You flash in my mind again. Your gorgeous face in a disappointed and amused smirk as you scold me for being late. You've never done that before, but it seems like something you would do. Suddenly, I sober, how long have I been standing here? Am I really late? I start walking again, not daring to look at my watch. I don't really want to know how long I've been standing there, dreaming about you. Damn you! You're a distraction, that's what you are, a horrible, unproductive, detrimental to any normal functioning, pain in my ass, irrational…amazing, beautiful distraction.

I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up completely. I let it go. I spin into the courtyard of the statehouse. Yes, spin…on one foot. I skip too. Just once, but I definitely skip. It feels wonderful. People must think I'm crazy. But for some reason, some ungodly reason, it doesn't bother me in the least. I expect it will in the future, but right now my mind is filled with a certain brunette. I feel light. I feel filled with light. Reason…logic, completely gone. I can't think of anything else, but would I really want to? I probably should. I'm nearing work. I'm giving sickeningly large smiles to co-workers. I should be thinking about courtroom procedures and pieces of dreaded blue legal paper. You look amazing in blue. You wore it yesterday. You look the best in red though; I think…the deep burgundy red that you wear once in a while. I like that.

I pass into the lobby and trot up the stairs. The movement makes me think of running. I remember that you run in the morning. In fact, you're probably running right now. I can see you running in my head, I can see your muscles flexing and the sweat slip down your face as your feet hit the pavement. The image is so incredible that I struggle to push it away. It seems like I can't do anything without thinking of you. I've tried. I've tried all morning. I should just let it come I suppose. But I know it can't. This is totally inappropriate and totally not conducive to conviction of the serial rapist on the docket today.

I'm finally at my desk. It seems to provide some stability. It's something large and solid, and I am eternally glad that it is there to ground me. I take a deep breath as my lawyer façade falls into place and I finally manage the decorum I need to function today.

The phone on my desk rings. I answer without looking at the caller ID. Bad Idea. Well, ok, not so much. I smile wide and near exasperation at your voice on the other line.

"So," I say. "What should we do for our second date?"

Well? What did ya think? I thrive on feedback! See that little blue button down there? You know you want to press it!