Opps forgot to do this last time :).
Disclamer: Dick Wolf's an ass, because he won't let Olivia come out. Oh, and he owns the SVU characters, too.
Pairings: Olivia/Moll and Olivia/Casey.
Warnings: Femslash, Swearing and the 1930's.
Author's notes: Thanks so much to rainbowlife and ADANovakFan for getting me to finally post this. Thank you both for your lovely reviews.
lilyjane- Olivia is most defiantly a woman in my story, the mobster was teasing/trying to insult Olivia. It would have been uncommon for a woman to dress similarly to a man in the 1930's, and between that and the moll's obvious attraction to Olivia; the mobster wanted to put Olivia in her place. The entire sentence was insincere. Thanks for the review :).
alexlivilla70- there's a moll, and there's Casey; and Olivia has to decide :).
ThompsontheNemisis- Yes, for me at least women were the 30's.
Thank you to everyone for their kind reviews.
Since I love making graphics, I made a few for this story. It's not letting me post links, so go to the Softball and Sex Crimes: ADA Casey Novak forum, under fanfiction for links. Sorry. Thanks again for everyone's support, Cate.
The moll's blood-red nails glide over Olivia, as she and Olivia dance closer. They scrape Olivia's back while the moll leans into Olivia's body.
"Olivia."
Olivia barely hears the moll, as the moll's head is turned away, distracted; her voice muted with a husky softness. Olivia pulls their connected arms toward their bodies, turning the moll's body towards her. The moll slowly finds Olivia's eyes.
"Olivia," she says with a smile playing on her lips.
"What?" Olivia asks thoroughly intrigued. The moll presses her lips close to Olivia's ear. Almost simultaneously there is a glaring light and a sound that clashes with slow grinding jazz.
"Fuck!" Olivia mutters, frustrated. The smokes, the jazz, the moll, are gone. In their place is a groggy combination of fact and fiction. All but the scent of the moll have faded from Olivia's grasp. Olivia's mind is slurred by the copious amounts of vodka she downed in an attempt to distance herself from women.
She curses herself for drinking so much, as memories of her mother filter in, despite her efforts to block them. She knows there are at least two things that separate her from her mother; the regret of drinking (her mother simply stopped caring about the ramifications of her drinking- from the hangovers to Olivia's screams); and the ability to stop. God help her if she ever lost either.
Olivia groans and rolls over, only to have a card poke her from the pocket in the dress shirt she never took off. "Marquesa Di Agostino" it said, followed by her number. Olivia flips it over to read, "To Olivia. Did you really think you'd get away with just a dance? Marquesa." The card smells strongly of Marquesa; and Olivia realizes, so does she.
Olivia then sees the clock, "Fuck," she utters again. She dresses quickly in a pair of jersey/wool wide leg pants, a crimson men's dress shirt she's had altered, and trench coat. She remembers at the last moment to slip the card into her pocket.
………………….
Olivia finds her partner interlocked in a heated debate with Munch over whether the depression is a conspiracy by the government. It turns out the men can only agree on one thing, how she looks.
"Olivia, you look like crap," smirks Elliot, "Rough night?" He had never let her live down the incredibly regrettable lapse in judgment in known as Cassidy. Not only had she slept with a boy, she had slept with a Boy Scout.
"Just the weather and the inter-" she starts.
"What forget where the bed was, Liv?" Munch chimes in.
"Why, you not need yours?" she retorts.
"My wives might say othe-"
"But Munch, they lef-" Elliot cuts Olivia off, as he drags her to her desk.
"Liv, I know he's a bit much for anyone this early in the morning; but that's no reason to take it out on him."
"El, I know. I-" Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia watches a striking redhead strut into the squad room and loses her thought. The redhead is wearing a purple wool suit with a lime-green silk scarf and hat. She walks confidently towards Elliot and Olivia, and extends her hand to Olivia.
"Olivia, I presume," she says with a wide smile.
"Who the hell are you?" Olivia fumes; annoyed that not one, but two women have distracted her in the past 48 hours. "What is it with me and women?" she wonders.
"That's our new ADA. Casey Novak, Olivia Benson. Olivia, this is Casey Novak."
Elliot leads Casey away from the sleep deprived, uncensored Olivia. Olivia overhears snippets of their conversation.
"Do I know you?"
"Ya short stop, cops team."
"Oh right, I didn't recognize you when you weren't covered…" "You know they let me on a team during the war, and they haven't been able to get me off," Casey says with a laugh.
"God, she's cocky," Olivia thought, "And hot. Bad Olivia. Cocky. Cocky. Damn, I'm thinking about a word that starts with cock. Why do men always interfere?"