Serena's Terrible, Horrible, Sucky, Sexist, Bigoted, No-good, Very, Very Bad Day.
Title: Serena's terrible, horrible, sucky, sexist, bigoted, no-good, very, very bad day.
Summary: “Stupid straight people….” One-shot =)
Disclaimer: Don’t own it. Never will. I’m a poor soul and…blah blah blah.
Pairing: Subtle Serena/Casey (...mostly) and, er, not-so-subtle Alex/Olivia. XD
Rating: R for Serena’s dirty mouth. And…other things.
Length: Just to warn you…long, as per my usual. XD
Ok, so...wrote another fic. XD This one's amusing, sarcastic, and not really angsty at all. =P
And I know, I know...but I'm working on 'Taste Of Security' The next chap to that will be up, soon...for those that care. XD
Anywho--this one's a long one. But, IMHO, worth it. =P
It's at my journal...which is friends-only. So you'll have to friend me before you can see it. However...please check to see if I've already friended you, before you ask me. -_- Please. =P Anyways, without further ado, here's the link!:
ENJOY (I hope) =P
WARNING: Again, this is really long...but...amusing. And sarcastic. So...BEGIN!:
“This. Is. Not. Happening.” She simply stood there, in the rain, staring at the rather large puddle by her feet. Inside of this puddle, currently swimming on the top and only getting quite a bit more drenched by the second, were all of her briefs-and when she said all of her briefs…she meant all of her briefs-for the Johnson case. “This. Is. Not. Happening!” She groaned again, standing, staring, not knowing what the hell else to do. She had worked, literally, twenty-four-seven for four months on those. Her sweat, blood, and tears had been poured into them. Really. There were stains on quite a few pages. Tear stains. Sweat stains. Blood stains from when she accidentally stabbed herself with her pen, once-which had really hurt, by the way. Those briefs were her babies, her hours and days and months of work. And there they were. In a puddle. Ruined. “God fucking damn it!!!” She shrieked, her voice drowned out by the raging thunderstorm all around her.
Today, officially, was the worst day of her life.
First, her alarm clock was broken, so she was late to work. Branch had a lot of fun with that one. Then, she had to pick up an extra case because one of the ADA’s went away on vacation-something she hadn’t been allowed to do in years. Yet no one stopped and asked if, hey, she wanted a vacation! Oh, no. She, apparently, didn’t deserve one. Maybe it was because she was blonde. Maybe it was because she was a lesbian. Maybe it was because she never asked. Maybe it was she couldn’t play baseball worth a damn and they all were still pissed at her since that one time they forced her to play-the lesbian has to be good at softball, right?-and they lost because of her.
Stupid straight people.
She didn’t know why she didn’t get a vacation and she didn’t care. All she knew was that she got an extra case, today while wonderful, darling, angelic Mark Daniels got to go to freaking Hawaii!
When was the last time she got to go to Hawaii, huh? Never. Stupid sexist bigoted bastards….
Serena scowled. She was getting off on a tangent. What was she originally talking about? Oh, yeah, right. She was internally ranting about the horrible events in her day…not about the sexism in the workplace. (Even though there was enough sexism in the DA’s office that she was pretty sure Hilary Clinton would walk inside and die. It’d make Bill proud, though.)
Anyways.
So Serena picked up this new case from Mark Daniels, who was currently on his fresh plane to Hawaii, to help disperse the workload in White Collar, since Novak got all of Daniels’ cases, anyways…and found out that her brother’s company was being sued for nearly 500,000 dollars. That was fun finding out first thing, 7 AM, in the morning, while drinking coffee. She nearly spewed it all over the case file-instead it only kind of dribbled down onto her favorite blue blouse.
Wouldn’t that be something to tell her mother near Christmas? It’d probably be kind of amusing actually since last year it was “Oh, yeah, I’m gay.” And this year it could be, “Oh, yeah, I’m kind of prosecuting Mike’s company-Mike kind of specifically-for laundering half a million dollars from his insurance company, Mother.” Oh, yeah, what a riot. Her mother would just love it. At least the Southerlyn’s liked to shake it up every year.
Speaking of her mother, conveniently enough, the older Southerlyn called an hour after Serena had hung up on her rather lengthy, angry discussion with her dearest elder brother Mike-yes, the Mike that was being sued-and, for some reason beyond Serena, she just had to talk about curtains. Apparently, her mother had bought new, lovely, silk, red curtains. They matched perfectly, so she had heard, with all of the house. With the whole entire house. How could curtains-red curtains-match with the whole entire house? God, she did not want to know what her mother did to make the curtains match with the whole house. Because, knowing her mother, she probably either a) bought a new house to match the curtains or, b) bought all new furniture, to match the curtains. Or perhaps she bought new curtains to match a new sofa she bought, which she was trying to make the rest of the house match with.
Again, not that Serena wanted to know. But her mother proceeded to tell her exactly that.
For five hours.
Five hours.
Five. Hours.
She talked for five hours about the damn curtains!
Jesus Christ! And then the woman wouldn’t let her go! She loved her mother, of course. But…five hours…about curtains….
Ludicrous.
Oh, and, while she was on hold with her mother-apparently, the dog had tried to eat her lovely curtains…Serena didn’t even know her mother had a dog-she had to do all of Jack’s dirty work. She wasn’t his god damned personal assistant! She was his colleague! Fellow lawyer! She should be respected! Not asked to go get him his fucking coffee. But, no, she didn’t get his respect. Oh, no, of course not. Instead, she received a list of what he could kindly help him do…which included going and telling the secretary he had slept with-maybe that was why he had the balls to go ask her to get him his damn coffee-that, no, he wouldn’t be able to see her anymore. Oh, yes, that’s right. Sally. Sally the secretary.
Wasn’t that a fun reunion?
It was kind of funny, actually. Jack had even asked her to pose as his girlfriend. She…politely…had reclined. Honestly, she wouldn’t have minded doing it for Jack-he was a decent enough guy-if she hadn’t already slept with Sally the secretary, herself, once. She didn’t really think that Sally would believe her as a heterosexual.
She was too damn good to be straight.
She felt a self-satisfied smirk make its way across her face, forgetting her situation, remembering that particular one-night stand. To be honest, she wouldn’t have thought Sally would have been straight, either, the way she had screamed when she-
Just then, a taxi cab sped past her, screeching in the same puddle her paperwork was in, splashing her. Soaking her.
The smirk slid right off her face.
God. Fucking. Damn. It.
She hated New York. Why did she live her again? Seriously, she couldn’t remember why.
Heaving one last, pitiful, sigh-it was more like a whimper…maybe she’d come back and cry, later-she stared at her briefs in the ever-growing puddle of water before walking back into the building, remembering she always kept a clean set of clothes in her desk. She was soaked, both due to the rain and the rather horrendous driving of whomever the hell was in that taxi cab, and exhausted. Honestly, she just wanted to go home, open a bottle of whiskey, and down the whole thing. She knew she’d hear so much crap about the Johnson case tomorrow. Why not have a hangover while at it? Or maybe she could just come into work drunk.
Branch seemed to like to yell at her, anyways.
Why not make his day? Or at least give it a good head-start to becoming one of the best days of his life, by letting him yell at her some more? He seemed to get off on it….
Then again, hell, maybe Branch would be drunk, too. He acted like it, half of the time. Maybe coming into work drunk would finally be what made him realize that she was, in fact, not his personal punching bag, but, rather, his fellow alco-freaking-holic.
As she trenched through the halls to the elevators, her feet drenched in grimy soot-like water causing her shoes to make this awful squeaking sound, the horrid sound echoing off of the walls, attracting the attention of the security guard who just would not stop staring at her chest, Serena came upon a realization. Her blouse was white. That meant it was see-through. She growled and crossed her arms over her chest, shivering, glad that, really, no one was in the office at this hour of the night-it was 11 PM and, honestly, the guard didn’t count…he stared at her chest no matter what she did-and, if they were, they were still in their offices. Or asleep on their desks, drooling. She sneezed as she pressed the up button, hoping the elevator would get here quickly.
Her headache which had, ironically enough, started to form at exactly the same time as when she dropped her briefs into the puddle-a headache forming along with a growing feeling of nausea-was now growing into a migraine. And then, like all things happened today, Serena realized, suddenly, because, of course, it would happen now, that she had to pee.
She crossed her legs and tapped her foot, impatiently, waiting for the elevator to reach the base floor.
Ok. She was sure, now, that no amount of alcohol was going to cure her of this day. Although, thinking of the wonderful bottle-bottle(s), really, that she was sure to consume-of whiskey that would be awaiting her once she changed into a clean set of clothes-she was shivering fully, now-she figured that it could really, really, help. Maybe not cure it…but help. Like painkillers…or vikodin with old men…or whatever kind of drug her oblivious crackhead of a curtain-loving mother was taking….
She sneezed again.
Could this day get any worse? Seriously. Could it? She’d like to know…but she bet on it that it couldn’t. And she won bets all the time. Really, she did. She was excellent at betting. Ask that one guy that bet her he’d wear a dress to their senior prom, at her high school, if she couldn’t get his girlfriend to sleep with her. She had taken him up on it-the bastard was cheating on his girlfriend, anyways-and her senior prom had become a night to remember. Quarterback Jimmy showed up in a wonderful, tasteful, elegant pink dress to the prom. And she had shown up with his cheerleading girlfriend Jill.
She heard someone laugh, roughly, deeply, from behind her and she just closed her eyes, groaning. Ok. Last time she bet. Ever. This day was totally getting worse.
“Well, Serena. Looks like you’ve had the shittiest day ever.” Casey Novak’s voice met her ears and Serena just continued to hold her arms close, hoping to keep herself warm. It wasn’t working. She was freezing and as cold as hell. Well…as cold as hell…froze over, technically speaking.
“Novak.” She growled, warningly, hoping that the redhead would get that she was not in the mood and drop it. She could see, out of the corner of her eyes, Casey raise her arms in surrender before, thankfully, the elevator doors opened up. Unthankfully, however, Casey followed her into the elevator, dressed casually in a sports tee, jeans, and tennis shoes. Serena tightened the embrace of her arms around herself, painfully aware of her white shirt’s rather…soaked state…but even more aware of where specific things were…well…seeing-through her now-see-through shirt…that she didn’t want Casey to…see. Under these circumstances, anyways.
The door closed and the elevator, painfully slowly, started its path up the floors as the prosecutors fell into a very, very, silent silence. Casey cleared her throat uncomfortably. Serena shifted, really wishing she had that bottle of whiskey right about now.
“I, uh, found these outside.” Casey said apologetically, almost nervously, presenting soaked and soiled briefs. Serena groaned and leaned back against the wall. She proceeded to bang her head against the back of the elevator. “Don’t want them, then?” Serena opened her eyes and glared at the white collar crime ADA. Casey raised her hands, once more, in surrender. “Alrighty. Just asking. Sheesh.” She sighed, resigned, and leaned back against the elevator, next to Serena. She dropped the briefs on the floor, letting the sound fill the empty space around them.
More silence.
Unfortunately for the blonde, she could practically feel the gears in Casey’s head churning, trying to find conversation in her brain.
“Well, at least if you’re going to have a shitty day and you’re set on taking it out on me, you can stop dripping all over the god damn floor and on my favorite tennis shoes.” Casey drawled, staring straight ahead. Serena finally turned around, gaping, shocked. The redhead’s smirk caught her off guard and, oddly enough, Serena felt her arms slack a little. She felt her headache ease just the slightest. She felt a laugh rumble deep in her chest and exit out into the small confines of the DA office’s elevator as a smirk, perfectly matching Casey’s, slipped onto her face. “Good, I was counting on your odd sense of humor to catch my snide remark as a joke.” Casey turned fully to the blonde, arms crossed over her own chest, still smirking, green eyes dancing.
“Only you, Casey.” Serena shook her head, still chuckling slightly. “Oh god.” She groaned, leaning her head back against the elevator, once more, bringing her hands up to her eyes, trying to willfully push away the growing headache by force. She really needed that drink. Casey cleared her throat once more. “What?” Serena asked, blinking. Casey pointed down at her chest, raising an eyebrow. “Oh. Right. Well… at least I have a bra on, this time.” Serena crossed her arms back over her chest, trying to make the best out of such a horrible situation, feeling slightly more at ease with the redhead in the elevator. But feeling slightly more at ease didn’t stop the faintest pink from tinting her cheeks.
“I’m guessing the other time you’re referring to was last years’ Christmas party? Had a bit too much to drink, there, Southerlyn?” Casey joked, memories of last year swimming in her head…specific memories of the blonde starting to strip at the after party at the bar while dancing. Well, it looked like she had started to strip, anyways. She had actually only been trying to take off her sweater…and her shirt had apparently decided to go along for the ride. Casey knew this and, of course, Serena knew this, but it was, still, a common joke around the office.
Serena rolled her eyes-hah hah, Serena the stripper-but decided to play along, anyways.
“Oh, come on, you guys just don’t know how to fun.” Serena smirked shaking her head.
“Serena. It was a sports bar. A family sports bar.” Casey tried to sound stern, but only sounded amused.
“Yup. And I was the entertainment. Consider it…educational.” Serena quipped. Casey laughed.
“Quite the entertainment.” She winked before looking up at the elevator’s floor signal. “Think this thing could go any slower?”
“Don’t jinx it.” Serena warned, glaring at her elevator companion.
“Hey. It’s not like I said it would get stuck or any-” Casey was quickly muffled by Serena’s hand over her mouth, silencing her, her eyes wide. With her free hand, she knocked on the wooden wall of the elevator.
“Knock on wood. Really, Casey. Don’t jinx it.” Serena’s voice was stern, her glare firm. Casey laughed against the blonde’s palm, her voice still muffled by her hand when she tried to speak. Serena could tell what she was saying, however, by the devious twinkle in those green eyes. “Novak. I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
Casey just smirked against Serena’s hand before pulling it off, wiping her mouth with her free hand. “Then kill me.” Casey held out Serena’s hand, examining the limb as if a piece of evidence needing scrutinizing for the prosecution. “Your hand’s wet. And it tastes funky.” The look on Casey’s face was a mix of curiosity and amusement and Serena couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head.
The elevator dinged open and Casey dropped the older woman’s hand to head in front of her, shaking her hand as she walked, excess water droplets left from the blonde’s hand scattering the hallway as she did so. A still-soaked Serena Southerlyn followed behind her, still shaking her head, causing even more water to drip onto the marble floor. The elevator doors closed, the soiled briefs forgotten inside.
And then Serena stopped, her eyes wide. “What?” Casey questioned.
Oh son of a bitch.
“First off…I think I just heard someone over there, in those offices.” Serena crossed her arms over her chest, once more, suddenly self-conscious. “Second off…I just remembered that…well…remember the change of clothes I was going to get from my office…?” Serena trailed off, a weary look gracing her beautiful features. Casey nodded, a pitying smile on her face, immediately seeing where this was heading. “I’m wearing them.” The blonde motioned down at her now-soaked clothes, shaking her head, once more. “I forgot I stayed late last night…working on those useless briefs.”
“Well, come on. I have an extra pair in my office. I think we’re around the same size.” Casey chuckled, ‘tsk’ed good-naturedly and shook her head before motioning the drenched blonde to follow her down the hall. Casey turned her head and gave Serena an amused smile, quirking a dark eyebrow upwards, as her embarrassed co-worked squeaked behind her down the halls.
“Shut up.” Serena grumbled almost petulantly, practically pouting-while scowling, at the same time, which was an interesting combo-as she pulled her arms tighter around herself. Casey merely, once more, held her hands up in silent surrender. It was quiet, save the squeaking of Serena’s shoes, as they trekked down the hall for a couple of moments before they both heard a thud.
They both froze and Serena arched an eyebrow at the redhead, who shrugged, muttering a, “Some idiot probably just dropped something.” Before they continued down the hall. Serena shrugged with her. She could care less. All she cared about, right now, was getting a change of clothes, picking up her soaked briefs in the elevator, going to her apartment, drowning herself in a tubful of whiskey, and then, perhaps, setting each and every single one of her legal briefs on the Johnson case on fire…oooh, wouldn’t that be nice.
Maybe she’d go steal her mother’s curtains and set those on fire, too.
Oh, yes. A nice, toasty fire that she could curl up to with her dearest friend whiskey. She eyed the redhead strolling casually next to her-hey, maybe she’d even invite Casey along.
She was actually about to offer when she heard yet another noise. She closed her mouth and thought it over for a minute, then shook her head, watching as Casey unlocked her office and waved her inside. The redhead closed and locked her door before striding over to her desk, throwing open one of the larger drawers, and tossing the blonde a pair of jeans and a sweater. “It might be a little tight, but it’s all I’ve got to offer.” The white collar attorney smiled at her a little-Serena had the manners to smile back thankfully-before she started to rifle through a pile of cases on her desk, leaving the blonde to turn around and pull up her soaking shirt.
Serena didn’t miss the trailing burn of Casey’s eyes on her back, almost like a sixth sense, for a moment, for she heard her friend start sifting through folders, once more. She was torn between seductively pulling off/on her clothes-since it had been a while since she had…well, y’know-and getting out of her freezing clothes fast enough to ensure that she didn’t get pneumonia.
After she sneezed and realized that maybe seducing one of her few friends in the office-well, close as she had ever gotten to having a true friend in the office, anyways-that she hadn’t either pissed off or slept with, already, wasn’t such a great idea, anyways, Serena pulled on the jeans and rolled her dirty clothes into one jumbled pile in her arms, turning around to see a smirking and triumphant Casey holding up a case file and a catcher’s mitt.
Serena’s shoes still squeaked as she walked a couple of feet over to Casey’s desk.
“Please don’t tell me you came all the way back here for a mitt.” Serena drawled, causing Casey to pout-scowl. It seemed that that was a specific talent both Serena and Casey were able to have. They could both pout and scowl at the same time. “Because I know you left after court early, today after your case in court got let out.” Casey rolled her eyes.
“It’s not just a mitt. It’s my lucky mitt for the game tomorrow!” Yup. Casey was full-on pouting, now. If there was one thing that you didn’t make fun of, near Casey, it was baseball…or softball…but balls, Serena found out, in general, were safe game with the redhead.
Not that that mattered and anything.
Although Casey did know some good jokes pertaining to the male reproductive system.
Anyways-you didn’t insult softball near Casey, because it made her pout. And, oddly enough, Serena actually sort of felt kind of bad when she made Casey pout…so she shook her head, this time, raising her own hands in a silent admission of defeat. Casey smirked.
“And, besides, I needed my notes on that insurance case.” Casey clarified. Right, because that was specific. Because half of the cases Casey did didn’t involve insurance, or anything. Because, apparently, people in insurance companies didn’t randomly like to steal millions of dollars from people who entrusted them to protect them. Serena decided her day was long enough without having to listen to another day-long summary of another case-no offense to Casey, or anything, but no lawyer, not even the redhead, could entertain her when it came to the details of insurance fraud-so she just motioned back towards the door, raising her eyebrow in silent question.
Casey nodded and turned out the lamp on her desk, closing and locking the door on their way out, smiling softly at her blonde haired friend.
They walked for a couple of seconds, Serena’s shoes still squeaking, until they heard it, freezing them both in place and the blonde just looked towards Casey, her eyes wide as a devilish smirk crossed her features.
A moan.
Not a groan, not a yelp, not a thud or a stern, tired voice talking on the phone at 11 PM at night…but a moan.
A very loud, very guttural, very sultry and deep, very female moan.
Casey, once again, arched an eyebrow, her smirk matching Serena’s, and, in silent excitement and consent, nodded. Quietly, save the soft squeaking of Serena’s shoes, they both crept towards the sound, bending cautiously around a hallway towards where a light shone through open blinds into a dark hallway, onto cold marble. The door was locked and, from this angle, they couldn’t see through the blinds, but it was undeniable whose office it was that the moan came from.
Alexandra Cabot’s office.
Alexandra-fucking-Cabot’s office.
Serena blinked. And that, most definitely, was not the same feminine moan that they had heard five seconds ago. Both Serena and Casey gaped at the door, then each other, then the door again. No. Way. No. Way. “Holy shit.” Casey’s voice was shocked…but laughing, and her eyebrows were crinkled in unbelief, but her eyes were full of mirth. And Serena, not quite sure what else to do, laughed.
And almost like passing a train wreck that you simply couldn’t turn away from, she found herself creeping towards the office door, a full-out smirk on her face, her curiosity far outweighing her common sense. “Serena!” Casey squeaked as the blonde tugged her down the hall with her. “Serena, no, you’re insane. You’re insane! No-I don’t even want to-” Serena’s hand absentmindedly covered Casey’s mouth with her free hand as they crept closer to the office, painfully slowly, as to calm the squeaking of Serena’s obnoxious shoes.
“Oh, shut up, I know you want to know who it is warming up Ice-Queen-Cabot just as much as I do.” Serena whispered, bringing her hands to her hips and regarding her friend with her critical courtroom glare. But, considering the fact that Casey was already giving Serena her critical courtroom glare, it didn’t do much.
“Doesn’t give me a right to invade their personal privacy,” Casey started, her own hands on her hips.
“Public building.” Serena’s eyes twinkled. Oh, yes, bring it on. Southerlyn 1, Novak 0.
“A public building that no one’s ever in save us 3. Jack leaves as soon as he pulls his head out of his ass and I’m surprised Branch ever shows up to work.” Casey retorted, and Serena nodded her head. She thought of adding ‘when he’s sober’ to the Branch comment, but decided against it. Ok, so the redhead did have a little bit of a point. Tie game. “And besides, do you have no morals?” Serena paused for a second and just gave her friend the look.
“We’re lawyers.” Southerlyn-2, Novak-1. Game point, match.
“You’ve got me there.” Casey admitted and just when she was about to add more to the conversation, another, more frantic, higher-pitched moan reached their ears. The next second, they were both scurrying over towards the office, any sort of moral compass or hesitation long forgotten. The next thing Serena knew, she was pressing her face up against the glass, ducking down slightly, like a kid looking into a candy store.
What a way to find out.
A flash of the image was all she needed to know. A blonde, normally composed ADA pushed up on her desk, papers strewn all about, forgotten, fingers raking through brown, two extremely familiar, amazingly synchronized bodies pushing, pulling, against each other.
“Ho-lee-shit.” The blonde gasped, her jaw loosely hanging somewhere near her feet as she peered through the tiny slivers visible between dimly lit blinds. Casey scrambled behind her, pushing her over to be able to see into, unfortunately, rather small window. When she did manage to push the shell-shocked ADA out of the way, however, she, herself, soon found her jaw hitting the floor.
White, creamy legs, skirt hiked up over muscular thighs, a tanned, slender hand dipping behind the material. One graceful hand pushed up under a red blouse, already mostly unbuttoned, pulling it slightly apart, another graceful hand dipping under unbuttoned black slacks.
“Ohmyfuckinggod!” She half-gasped half-squeaked, her eyes the size of saucers as she jumped back from the window, her heart hammering in her chest a mile per minute. She looked over at Serena, as if to silently question if she was seriously seeing what she was seeing. They both blinked. Another massive scurry ensued while they both tried to fit between the small space of the window, gaping at the sight before them.
Blonde hair cascaded down on the desk as two bodies-turned-one tumbled on top of the mahogany wood, both hands now clawing at a tanned muscular back under a still-open red blouse, elegant neck and gorgeously pale back arching into obviously precise hands, lips passionately meeting lips before trailing down to bare skin, the only thing now clothing the blonde an oddly tasteful white bra and her hiked up black pencil skirt, her black rimmed glasses barely perched on the end of her nose, her eyes closed, her eyebrows crinkled in what Casey and Serena were pretty damn sure was nothing but pure, delicious, blissful ecstasy, her lips barely parted, a name-barely a whisper that they couldn’t hear-on wet lips.
“We shouldn’t be watching this.” Casey mumbled, but Serena didn’t think her friend’s resolve was saying much, since her face was pressed up against the glass, her eyes seemingly glued open like a cat watching a canary. Serena knew she was doing the same thing.
“No.” Serena absently agreed. “We shouldn’t.” She gulped dryly as the blonde behind the glass’s once whispered moans got louder as a brown mop of hair disappeared over and down a rapidly breathing chest and toned stomach. Even through the dim light, the smirk on the brunette’s face was visible. “Oh, God.” Serena groaned right when Alex did, resulting in a sharp look from Casey and blushes on both of their faces. Serena gulped, tried to speak-the first time, her sentence was interrupted by a series of scattered moans from the increasingly-frantic blonde in her office, so Serena coughed, cleared her throat, then tried again-“We really, really shouldn’t.” She reaffirmed before the blonde and the redhead locked eyes.
“I mean,” Casey gulped, finding it hard to get a sentence out when Alex was moaning like that. It was awkward, to say the least. And her cheeks no doubt matched the color of her hair. “What if they look over here and see us, Serena?” She forcefully whispered, but the situation made it sound more like a yelp of realization.
They blinked at each other once more.
As if realizing that it would be the only thing that would save any ounce of sanity, dignity, and ounce of credible morals they had left, they both practically ran across the hall, back the way they came, Serena’s shoes squeaking in their wake. They somehow made it back to the closed elevator doors, both of their chests rapidly rising and falling from frantic, stunned, shocked, and, admittedly, slightly excited, breaths.
After a couple of moments, the sound of silence clearing the distraction of Alexandra Cabot’s moaning from both of their heads, they both looked at each other and grinned, only slightly embarrassed, shaking their heads.
And then it clicked. Serena held out her palm expectantly to the White Collar Crimes ADA, smirking. “What?” Casey’s sarcastic voice replaced her oddly transfixed tone from before. “Want a high five from your moral-less lawyer partner in crime?” She drawled and Serena shook her head, still smirking.
“You so owe me twenty bucks.” Serena joyfully pointed out, her blue eyes dancing with a triumphant glee. Casey frowned, quickly remembering their bet from when the over-confident blonde ADA had first been assigned to sex crimes. “Pay up, Novak.” However, like a true lawyer, rather than admitting defeat, Casey fought it.
“We don’t know for certain who that was with Cabot. For all I know, that was Sally.” Casey pointed out, pointedly ignoring the fact that Sally the secretary had hair that reached her shoulders…and was currently a blonde. Serena just gave her the look, once more.
“Seriously, Casey?” There was still the look and the redhead sighed. “Sally?”
“Well, hey, you’re the one that told me she wasn’t a natural blonde. For all I know, she went back to her natural hair color…and…a really butchy haircut-” She tried but sighed once more when Serena just crossed her arms over her still-soaked chest, causing Casey to smirk a little. “Ok, ok, fine, so not Sally. But it could be someone else. Seriously, I didn’t see much.” Of her. Serena, again, almost added, thinking that Casey had a point…but they sure did see a lot of Alex.
“Did you see the smirk?” Serena questioned, knowing they both knew the trademark smirk, regardless of how dim it was in the room. Casey opened her mouth to answer when a broken voice echoed off of the building’s walls and hit them both clearly head-on, causing Serena to full-out smirk.
“Olivia!”
Serena’s eyebrow stayed raised, as if daring the redhead to challenge her, to refute that she, obviously, won the bet. Alexandra Cabot and Olivia Benson were, quite obviously, doing it. And Serena earned either a) a dinner or b) twenty bucks. Casey rolled her eyes and sighed, a tint of pink still gracing her cheeks. “Pay it up, Novak.” Serena repeated, a shit-eating grin on her face.
“Ok. Ok.” Casey looked down at her watch and blinked. 12:30? When did that happen? “Well, what about now?” She mused out loud, shrugging her shoulders. “I haven’t eaten, yet. And you haven’t eaten yet, I know for a fact.” She smiled at her friend. “And, besides, I think this would be a bet better off paid with a few good beers and good company…especially after what we just saw.” Serena nodded, watching with amusement as the elevator doors opened. She looked behind herself and saw that she had hit the button with her back, earlier. The blonde shrugged.
“Sounds good to me.” They both shared a silent, smiling look before Casey bent down and shoved a jumbled pile of soggy, dirty, forgotten briefs into the blonde’s arms. Serena blinked. Oh yeah. Work.
Shit.
Serena sighed and pressed the down button on the elevator, shaking her head. “And, besides, no one will notice, tomorrow, when you show up borrowing another pair of my clothes.” Casey chuckled, the laughter contagious. “Fortunately for me, though. I have the day off, tomorrow.” Suddenly, the redhead’s tone wasn’t so happy.
Serena, once more, raised an elegant eyebrow towards her elevator companion and partner in crime. “Don’t sound too happy about that.”
“Yeah…I have to go shopping with my mother tomorrow.” Casey sighed. “For curtains.” She pulled a face and Serena tried not to laugh. The redhead rolled her eyes. “Apparently, she wants them to match the whole entire goddamn house.”
This time, Serena really did laugh. And Casey laughed with her, for a good while, until the elevator doors opened. And then-“Oh shit.” Casey slapped her face with her palm. Ouch.
“What?” Serena questioned as she gently pushed the redhead out of the elevator.
“I left my lucky mitt outside the office, on the floor.” Casey was pouting again. Serena bit her lip, oddly, for her, nervous and cautious of what she was about to not-so-subtly imply.
“Well, you don’t need a mitt to get lucky.” There was a moment’s silence where they both just looked at each other outside of the elevator before Casey gave Serena one of the quirkiest, goofiest, oddly sexy-yet-adorable smiles the blonde had ever seen. It was contagious and, before Serena knew it, the blonde was being pulled by the hand into a taxi, the Johnson case’s briefs forgotten, scattered, on the floor of the building’s lobby where Casey had kissed her.
Ok, so, maybe today had started out as a really, really shitty day…but for some reason, with Casey’s hand clasped, cautiously, over hers in the cab, nervous smiles on both of their faces, Serena, for the life of her, couldn’t remember why.
And, as they both urgently speed-walked up the stairs to Casey’s apartment-her elevator was broken-and the redhead all but threw open the door, Serena was sure that, either way…it was sure as hell starting to look up.
First thing was first, though.
Serena blinked, remembering an all-together different twinge between her legs that she hadn’t managed to attend to, in the building.
“Hey, Casey…where’s your bathroom?”
-LE FIN-
Summary: “Stupid straight people….” One-shot =)
Disclaimer: Don’t own it. Never will. I’m a poor soul and…blah blah blah.
Pairing: Subtle Serena/Casey (...mostly) and, er, not-so-subtle Alex/Olivia. XD
Rating: R for Serena’s dirty mouth. And…other things.
Length: Just to warn you…long, as per my usual. XD
Ok, so...wrote another fic. XD This one's amusing, sarcastic, and not really angsty at all. =P
And I know, I know...but I'm working on 'Taste Of Security' The next chap to that will be up, soon...for those that care. XD
Anywho--this one's a long one. But, IMHO, worth it. =P
It's at my journal...which is friends-only. So you'll have to friend me before you can see it. However...please check to see if I've already friended you, before you ask me. -_- Please. =P Anyways, without further ado, here's the link!:
ENJOY (I hope) =P
WARNING: Again, this is really long...but...amusing. And sarcastic. So...BEGIN!:
“This. Is. Not. Happening.” She simply stood there, in the rain, staring at the rather large puddle by her feet. Inside of this puddle, currently swimming on the top and only getting quite a bit more drenched by the second, were all of her briefs-and when she said all of her briefs…she meant all of her briefs-for the Johnson case. “This. Is. Not. Happening!” She groaned again, standing, staring, not knowing what the hell else to do. She had worked, literally, twenty-four-seven for four months on those. Her sweat, blood, and tears had been poured into them. Really. There were stains on quite a few pages. Tear stains. Sweat stains. Blood stains from when she accidentally stabbed herself with her pen, once-which had really hurt, by the way. Those briefs were her babies, her hours and days and months of work. And there they were. In a puddle. Ruined. “God fucking damn it!!!” She shrieked, her voice drowned out by the raging thunderstorm all around her.
Today, officially, was the worst day of her life.
First, her alarm clock was broken, so she was late to work. Branch had a lot of fun with that one. Then, she had to pick up an extra case because one of the ADA’s went away on vacation-something she hadn’t been allowed to do in years. Yet no one stopped and asked if, hey, she wanted a vacation! Oh, no. She, apparently, didn’t deserve one. Maybe it was because she was blonde. Maybe it was because she was a lesbian. Maybe it was because she never asked. Maybe it was she couldn’t play baseball worth a damn and they all were still pissed at her since that one time they forced her to play-the lesbian has to be good at softball, right?-and they lost because of her.
Stupid straight people.
She didn’t know why she didn’t get a vacation and she didn’t care. All she knew was that she got an extra case, today while wonderful, darling, angelic Mark Daniels got to go to freaking Hawaii!
When was the last time she got to go to Hawaii, huh? Never. Stupid sexist bigoted bastards….
Serena scowled. She was getting off on a tangent. What was she originally talking about? Oh, yeah, right. She was internally ranting about the horrible events in her day…not about the sexism in the workplace. (Even though there was enough sexism in the DA’s office that she was pretty sure Hilary Clinton would walk inside and die. It’d make Bill proud, though.)
Anyways.
So Serena picked up this new case from Mark Daniels, who was currently on his fresh plane to Hawaii, to help disperse the workload in White Collar, since Novak got all of Daniels’ cases, anyways…and found out that her brother’s company was being sued for nearly 500,000 dollars. That was fun finding out first thing, 7 AM, in the morning, while drinking coffee. She nearly spewed it all over the case file-instead it only kind of dribbled down onto her favorite blue blouse.
Wouldn’t that be something to tell her mother near Christmas? It’d probably be kind of amusing actually since last year it was “Oh, yeah, I’m gay.” And this year it could be, “Oh, yeah, I’m kind of prosecuting Mike’s company-Mike kind of specifically-for laundering half a million dollars from his insurance company, Mother.” Oh, yeah, what a riot. Her mother would just love it. At least the Southerlyn’s liked to shake it up every year.
Speaking of her mother, conveniently enough, the older Southerlyn called an hour after Serena had hung up on her rather lengthy, angry discussion with her dearest elder brother Mike-yes, the Mike that was being sued-and, for some reason beyond Serena, she just had to talk about curtains. Apparently, her mother had bought new, lovely, silk, red curtains. They matched perfectly, so she had heard, with all of the house. With the whole entire house. How could curtains-red curtains-match with the whole entire house? God, she did not want to know what her mother did to make the curtains match with the whole house. Because, knowing her mother, she probably either a) bought a new house to match the curtains or, b) bought all new furniture, to match the curtains. Or perhaps she bought new curtains to match a new sofa she bought, which she was trying to make the rest of the house match with.
Again, not that Serena wanted to know. But her mother proceeded to tell her exactly that.
For five hours.
Five hours.
Five. Hours.
She talked for five hours about the damn curtains!
Jesus Christ! And then the woman wouldn’t let her go! She loved her mother, of course. But…five hours…about curtains….
Ludicrous.
Oh, and, while she was on hold with her mother-apparently, the dog had tried to eat her lovely curtains…Serena didn’t even know her mother had a dog-she had to do all of Jack’s dirty work. She wasn’t his god damned personal assistant! She was his colleague! Fellow lawyer! She should be respected! Not asked to go get him his fucking coffee. But, no, she didn’t get his respect. Oh, no, of course not. Instead, she received a list of what he could kindly help him do…which included going and telling the secretary he had slept with-maybe that was why he had the balls to go ask her to get him his damn coffee-that, no, he wouldn’t be able to see her anymore. Oh, yes, that’s right. Sally. Sally the secretary.
Wasn’t that a fun reunion?
It was kind of funny, actually. Jack had even asked her to pose as his girlfriend. She…politely…had reclined. Honestly, she wouldn’t have minded doing it for Jack-he was a decent enough guy-if she hadn’t already slept with Sally the secretary, herself, once. She didn’t really think that Sally would believe her as a heterosexual.
She was too damn good to be straight.
She felt a self-satisfied smirk make its way across her face, forgetting her situation, remembering that particular one-night stand. To be honest, she wouldn’t have thought Sally would have been straight, either, the way she had screamed when she-
Just then, a taxi cab sped past her, screeching in the same puddle her paperwork was in, splashing her. Soaking her.
The smirk slid right off her face.
God. Fucking. Damn. It.
She hated New York. Why did she live her again? Seriously, she couldn’t remember why.
Heaving one last, pitiful, sigh-it was more like a whimper…maybe she’d come back and cry, later-she stared at her briefs in the ever-growing puddle of water before walking back into the building, remembering she always kept a clean set of clothes in her desk. She was soaked, both due to the rain and the rather horrendous driving of whomever the hell was in that taxi cab, and exhausted. Honestly, she just wanted to go home, open a bottle of whiskey, and down the whole thing. She knew she’d hear so much crap about the Johnson case tomorrow. Why not have a hangover while at it? Or maybe she could just come into work drunk.
Branch seemed to like to yell at her, anyways.
Why not make his day? Or at least give it a good head-start to becoming one of the best days of his life, by letting him yell at her some more? He seemed to get off on it….
Then again, hell, maybe Branch would be drunk, too. He acted like it, half of the time. Maybe coming into work drunk would finally be what made him realize that she was, in fact, not his personal punching bag, but, rather, his fellow alco-freaking-holic.
As she trenched through the halls to the elevators, her feet drenched in grimy soot-like water causing her shoes to make this awful squeaking sound, the horrid sound echoing off of the walls, attracting the attention of the security guard who just would not stop staring at her chest, Serena came upon a realization. Her blouse was white. That meant it was see-through. She growled and crossed her arms over her chest, shivering, glad that, really, no one was in the office at this hour of the night-it was 11 PM and, honestly, the guard didn’t count…he stared at her chest no matter what she did-and, if they were, they were still in their offices. Or asleep on their desks, drooling. She sneezed as she pressed the up button, hoping the elevator would get here quickly.
Her headache which had, ironically enough, started to form at exactly the same time as when she dropped her briefs into the puddle-a headache forming along with a growing feeling of nausea-was now growing into a migraine. And then, like all things happened today, Serena realized, suddenly, because, of course, it would happen now, that she had to pee.
She crossed her legs and tapped her foot, impatiently, waiting for the elevator to reach the base floor.
Ok. She was sure, now, that no amount of alcohol was going to cure her of this day. Although, thinking of the wonderful bottle-bottle(s), really, that she was sure to consume-of whiskey that would be awaiting her once she changed into a clean set of clothes-she was shivering fully, now-she figured that it could really, really, help. Maybe not cure it…but help. Like painkillers…or vikodin with old men…or whatever kind of drug her oblivious crackhead of a curtain-loving mother was taking….
She sneezed again.
Could this day get any worse? Seriously. Could it? She’d like to know…but she bet on it that it couldn’t. And she won bets all the time. Really, she did. She was excellent at betting. Ask that one guy that bet her he’d wear a dress to their senior prom, at her high school, if she couldn’t get his girlfriend to sleep with her. She had taken him up on it-the bastard was cheating on his girlfriend, anyways-and her senior prom had become a night to remember. Quarterback Jimmy showed up in a wonderful, tasteful, elegant pink dress to the prom. And she had shown up with his cheerleading girlfriend Jill.
She heard someone laugh, roughly, deeply, from behind her and she just closed her eyes, groaning. Ok. Last time she bet. Ever. This day was totally getting worse.
“Well, Serena. Looks like you’ve had the shittiest day ever.” Casey Novak’s voice met her ears and Serena just continued to hold her arms close, hoping to keep herself warm. It wasn’t working. She was freezing and as cold as hell. Well…as cold as hell…froze over, technically speaking.
“Novak.” She growled, warningly, hoping that the redhead would get that she was not in the mood and drop it. She could see, out of the corner of her eyes, Casey raise her arms in surrender before, thankfully, the elevator doors opened up. Unthankfully, however, Casey followed her into the elevator, dressed casually in a sports tee, jeans, and tennis shoes. Serena tightened the embrace of her arms around herself, painfully aware of her white shirt’s rather…soaked state…but even more aware of where specific things were…well…seeing-through her now-see-through shirt…that she didn’t want Casey to…see. Under these circumstances, anyways.
The door closed and the elevator, painfully slowly, started its path up the floors as the prosecutors fell into a very, very, silent silence. Casey cleared her throat uncomfortably. Serena shifted, really wishing she had that bottle of whiskey right about now.
“I, uh, found these outside.” Casey said apologetically, almost nervously, presenting soaked and soiled briefs. Serena groaned and leaned back against the wall. She proceeded to bang her head against the back of the elevator. “Don’t want them, then?” Serena opened her eyes and glared at the white collar crime ADA. Casey raised her hands, once more, in surrender. “Alrighty. Just asking. Sheesh.” She sighed, resigned, and leaned back against the elevator, next to Serena. She dropped the briefs on the floor, letting the sound fill the empty space around them.
More silence.
Unfortunately for the blonde, she could practically feel the gears in Casey’s head churning, trying to find conversation in her brain.
“Well, at least if you’re going to have a shitty day and you’re set on taking it out on me, you can stop dripping all over the god damn floor and on my favorite tennis shoes.” Casey drawled, staring straight ahead. Serena finally turned around, gaping, shocked. The redhead’s smirk caught her off guard and, oddly enough, Serena felt her arms slack a little. She felt her headache ease just the slightest. She felt a laugh rumble deep in her chest and exit out into the small confines of the DA office’s elevator as a smirk, perfectly matching Casey’s, slipped onto her face. “Good, I was counting on your odd sense of humor to catch my snide remark as a joke.” Casey turned fully to the blonde, arms crossed over her own chest, still smirking, green eyes dancing.
“Only you, Casey.” Serena shook her head, still chuckling slightly. “Oh god.” She groaned, leaning her head back against the elevator, once more, bringing her hands up to her eyes, trying to willfully push away the growing headache by force. She really needed that drink. Casey cleared her throat once more. “What?” Serena asked, blinking. Casey pointed down at her chest, raising an eyebrow. “Oh. Right. Well… at least I have a bra on, this time.” Serena crossed her arms back over her chest, trying to make the best out of such a horrible situation, feeling slightly more at ease with the redhead in the elevator. But feeling slightly more at ease didn’t stop the faintest pink from tinting her cheeks.
“I’m guessing the other time you’re referring to was last years’ Christmas party? Had a bit too much to drink, there, Southerlyn?” Casey joked, memories of last year swimming in her head…specific memories of the blonde starting to strip at the after party at the bar while dancing. Well, it looked like she had started to strip, anyways. She had actually only been trying to take off her sweater…and her shirt had apparently decided to go along for the ride. Casey knew this and, of course, Serena knew this, but it was, still, a common joke around the office.
Serena rolled her eyes-hah hah, Serena the stripper-but decided to play along, anyways.
“Oh, come on, you guys just don’t know how to fun.” Serena smirked shaking her head.
“Serena. It was a sports bar. A family sports bar.” Casey tried to sound stern, but only sounded amused.
“Yup. And I was the entertainment. Consider it…educational.” Serena quipped. Casey laughed.
“Quite the entertainment.” She winked before looking up at the elevator’s floor signal. “Think this thing could go any slower?”
“Don’t jinx it.” Serena warned, glaring at her elevator companion.
“Hey. It’s not like I said it would get stuck or any-” Casey was quickly muffled by Serena’s hand over her mouth, silencing her, her eyes wide. With her free hand, she knocked on the wooden wall of the elevator.
“Knock on wood. Really, Casey. Don’t jinx it.” Serena’s voice was stern, her glare firm. Casey laughed against the blonde’s palm, her voice still muffled by her hand when she tried to speak. Serena could tell what she was saying, however, by the devious twinkle in those green eyes. “Novak. I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
Casey just smirked against Serena’s hand before pulling it off, wiping her mouth with her free hand. “Then kill me.” Casey held out Serena’s hand, examining the limb as if a piece of evidence needing scrutinizing for the prosecution. “Your hand’s wet. And it tastes funky.” The look on Casey’s face was a mix of curiosity and amusement and Serena couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head.
The elevator dinged open and Casey dropped the older woman’s hand to head in front of her, shaking her hand as she walked, excess water droplets left from the blonde’s hand scattering the hallway as she did so. A still-soaked Serena Southerlyn followed behind her, still shaking her head, causing even more water to drip onto the marble floor. The elevator doors closed, the soiled briefs forgotten inside.
And then Serena stopped, her eyes wide. “What?” Casey questioned.
Oh son of a bitch.
“First off…I think I just heard someone over there, in those offices.” Serena crossed her arms over her chest, once more, suddenly self-conscious. “Second off…I just remembered that…well…remember the change of clothes I was going to get from my office…?” Serena trailed off, a weary look gracing her beautiful features. Casey nodded, a pitying smile on her face, immediately seeing where this was heading. “I’m wearing them.” The blonde motioned down at her now-soaked clothes, shaking her head, once more. “I forgot I stayed late last night…working on those useless briefs.”
“Well, come on. I have an extra pair in my office. I think we’re around the same size.” Casey chuckled, ‘tsk’ed good-naturedly and shook her head before motioning the drenched blonde to follow her down the hall. Casey turned her head and gave Serena an amused smile, quirking a dark eyebrow upwards, as her embarrassed co-worked squeaked behind her down the halls.
“Shut up.” Serena grumbled almost petulantly, practically pouting-while scowling, at the same time, which was an interesting combo-as she pulled her arms tighter around herself. Casey merely, once more, held her hands up in silent surrender. It was quiet, save the squeaking of Serena’s shoes, as they trekked down the hall for a couple of moments before they both heard a thud.
They both froze and Serena arched an eyebrow at the redhead, who shrugged, muttering a, “Some idiot probably just dropped something.” Before they continued down the hall. Serena shrugged with her. She could care less. All she cared about, right now, was getting a change of clothes, picking up her soaked briefs in the elevator, going to her apartment, drowning herself in a tubful of whiskey, and then, perhaps, setting each and every single one of her legal briefs on the Johnson case on fire…oooh, wouldn’t that be nice.
Maybe she’d go steal her mother’s curtains and set those on fire, too.
Oh, yes. A nice, toasty fire that she could curl up to with her dearest friend whiskey. She eyed the redhead strolling casually next to her-hey, maybe she’d even invite Casey along.
She was actually about to offer when she heard yet another noise. She closed her mouth and thought it over for a minute, then shook her head, watching as Casey unlocked her office and waved her inside. The redhead closed and locked her door before striding over to her desk, throwing open one of the larger drawers, and tossing the blonde a pair of jeans and a sweater. “It might be a little tight, but it’s all I’ve got to offer.” The white collar attorney smiled at her a little-Serena had the manners to smile back thankfully-before she started to rifle through a pile of cases on her desk, leaving the blonde to turn around and pull up her soaking shirt.
Serena didn’t miss the trailing burn of Casey’s eyes on her back, almost like a sixth sense, for a moment, for she heard her friend start sifting through folders, once more. She was torn between seductively pulling off/on her clothes-since it had been a while since she had…well, y’know-and getting out of her freezing clothes fast enough to ensure that she didn’t get pneumonia.
After she sneezed and realized that maybe seducing one of her few friends in the office-well, close as she had ever gotten to having a true friend in the office, anyways-that she hadn’t either pissed off or slept with, already, wasn’t such a great idea, anyways, Serena pulled on the jeans and rolled her dirty clothes into one jumbled pile in her arms, turning around to see a smirking and triumphant Casey holding up a case file and a catcher’s mitt.
Serena’s shoes still squeaked as she walked a couple of feet over to Casey’s desk.
“Please don’t tell me you came all the way back here for a mitt.” Serena drawled, causing Casey to pout-scowl. It seemed that that was a specific talent both Serena and Casey were able to have. They could both pout and scowl at the same time. “Because I know you left after court early, today after your case in court got let out.” Casey rolled her eyes.
“It’s not just a mitt. It’s my lucky mitt for the game tomorrow!” Yup. Casey was full-on pouting, now. If there was one thing that you didn’t make fun of, near Casey, it was baseball…or softball…but balls, Serena found out, in general, were safe game with the redhead.
Not that that mattered and anything.
Although Casey did know some good jokes pertaining to the male reproductive system.
Anyways-you didn’t insult softball near Casey, because it made her pout. And, oddly enough, Serena actually sort of felt kind of bad when she made Casey pout…so she shook her head, this time, raising her own hands in a silent admission of defeat. Casey smirked.
“And, besides, I needed my notes on that insurance case.” Casey clarified. Right, because that was specific. Because half of the cases Casey did didn’t involve insurance, or anything. Because, apparently, people in insurance companies didn’t randomly like to steal millions of dollars from people who entrusted them to protect them. Serena decided her day was long enough without having to listen to another day-long summary of another case-no offense to Casey, or anything, but no lawyer, not even the redhead, could entertain her when it came to the details of insurance fraud-so she just motioned back towards the door, raising her eyebrow in silent question.
Casey nodded and turned out the lamp on her desk, closing and locking the door on their way out, smiling softly at her blonde haired friend.
They walked for a couple of seconds, Serena’s shoes still squeaking, until they heard it, freezing them both in place and the blonde just looked towards Casey, her eyes wide as a devilish smirk crossed her features.
A moan.
Not a groan, not a yelp, not a thud or a stern, tired voice talking on the phone at 11 PM at night…but a moan.
A very loud, very guttural, very sultry and deep, very female moan.
Casey, once again, arched an eyebrow, her smirk matching Serena’s, and, in silent excitement and consent, nodded. Quietly, save the soft squeaking of Serena’s shoes, they both crept towards the sound, bending cautiously around a hallway towards where a light shone through open blinds into a dark hallway, onto cold marble. The door was locked and, from this angle, they couldn’t see through the blinds, but it was undeniable whose office it was that the moan came from.
Alexandra Cabot’s office.
Alexandra-fucking-Cabot’s office.
Serena blinked. And that, most definitely, was not the same feminine moan that they had heard five seconds ago. Both Serena and Casey gaped at the door, then each other, then the door again. No. Way. No. Way. “Holy shit.” Casey’s voice was shocked…but laughing, and her eyebrows were crinkled in unbelief, but her eyes were full of mirth. And Serena, not quite sure what else to do, laughed.
And almost like passing a train wreck that you simply couldn’t turn away from, she found herself creeping towards the office door, a full-out smirk on her face, her curiosity far outweighing her common sense. “Serena!” Casey squeaked as the blonde tugged her down the hall with her. “Serena, no, you’re insane. You’re insane! No-I don’t even want to-” Serena’s hand absentmindedly covered Casey’s mouth with her free hand as they crept closer to the office, painfully slowly, as to calm the squeaking of Serena’s obnoxious shoes.
“Oh, shut up, I know you want to know who it is warming up Ice-Queen-Cabot just as much as I do.” Serena whispered, bringing her hands to her hips and regarding her friend with her critical courtroom glare. But, considering the fact that Casey was already giving Serena her critical courtroom glare, it didn’t do much.
“Doesn’t give me a right to invade their personal privacy,” Casey started, her own hands on her hips.
“Public building.” Serena’s eyes twinkled. Oh, yes, bring it on. Southerlyn 1, Novak 0.
“A public building that no one’s ever in save us 3. Jack leaves as soon as he pulls his head out of his ass and I’m surprised Branch ever shows up to work.” Casey retorted, and Serena nodded her head. She thought of adding ‘when he’s sober’ to the Branch comment, but decided against it. Ok, so the redhead did have a little bit of a point. Tie game. “And besides, do you have no morals?” Serena paused for a second and just gave her friend the look.
“We’re lawyers.” Southerlyn-2, Novak-1. Game point, match.
“You’ve got me there.” Casey admitted and just when she was about to add more to the conversation, another, more frantic, higher-pitched moan reached their ears. The next second, they were both scurrying over towards the office, any sort of moral compass or hesitation long forgotten. The next thing Serena knew, she was pressing her face up against the glass, ducking down slightly, like a kid looking into a candy store.
What a way to find out.
A flash of the image was all she needed to know. A blonde, normally composed ADA pushed up on her desk, papers strewn all about, forgotten, fingers raking through brown, two extremely familiar, amazingly synchronized bodies pushing, pulling, against each other.
“Ho-lee-shit.” The blonde gasped, her jaw loosely hanging somewhere near her feet as she peered through the tiny slivers visible between dimly lit blinds. Casey scrambled behind her, pushing her over to be able to see into, unfortunately, rather small window. When she did manage to push the shell-shocked ADA out of the way, however, she, herself, soon found her jaw hitting the floor.
White, creamy legs, skirt hiked up over muscular thighs, a tanned, slender hand dipping behind the material. One graceful hand pushed up under a red blouse, already mostly unbuttoned, pulling it slightly apart, another graceful hand dipping under unbuttoned black slacks.
“Ohmyfuckinggod!” She half-gasped half-squeaked, her eyes the size of saucers as she jumped back from the window, her heart hammering in her chest a mile per minute. She looked over at Serena, as if to silently question if she was seriously seeing what she was seeing. They both blinked. Another massive scurry ensued while they both tried to fit between the small space of the window, gaping at the sight before them.
Blonde hair cascaded down on the desk as two bodies-turned-one tumbled on top of the mahogany wood, both hands now clawing at a tanned muscular back under a still-open red blouse, elegant neck and gorgeously pale back arching into obviously precise hands, lips passionately meeting lips before trailing down to bare skin, the only thing now clothing the blonde an oddly tasteful white bra and her hiked up black pencil skirt, her black rimmed glasses barely perched on the end of her nose, her eyes closed, her eyebrows crinkled in what Casey and Serena were pretty damn sure was nothing but pure, delicious, blissful ecstasy, her lips barely parted, a name-barely a whisper that they couldn’t hear-on wet lips.
“We shouldn’t be watching this.” Casey mumbled, but Serena didn’t think her friend’s resolve was saying much, since her face was pressed up against the glass, her eyes seemingly glued open like a cat watching a canary. Serena knew she was doing the same thing.
“No.” Serena absently agreed. “We shouldn’t.” She gulped dryly as the blonde behind the glass’s once whispered moans got louder as a brown mop of hair disappeared over and down a rapidly breathing chest and toned stomach. Even through the dim light, the smirk on the brunette’s face was visible. “Oh, God.” Serena groaned right when Alex did, resulting in a sharp look from Casey and blushes on both of their faces. Serena gulped, tried to speak-the first time, her sentence was interrupted by a series of scattered moans from the increasingly-frantic blonde in her office, so Serena coughed, cleared her throat, then tried again-“We really, really shouldn’t.” She reaffirmed before the blonde and the redhead locked eyes.
“I mean,” Casey gulped, finding it hard to get a sentence out when Alex was moaning like that. It was awkward, to say the least. And her cheeks no doubt matched the color of her hair. “What if they look over here and see us, Serena?” She forcefully whispered, but the situation made it sound more like a yelp of realization.
They blinked at each other once more.
As if realizing that it would be the only thing that would save any ounce of sanity, dignity, and ounce of credible morals they had left, they both practically ran across the hall, back the way they came, Serena’s shoes squeaking in their wake. They somehow made it back to the closed elevator doors, both of their chests rapidly rising and falling from frantic, stunned, shocked, and, admittedly, slightly excited, breaths.
After a couple of moments, the sound of silence clearing the distraction of Alexandra Cabot’s moaning from both of their heads, they both looked at each other and grinned, only slightly embarrassed, shaking their heads.
And then it clicked. Serena held out her palm expectantly to the White Collar Crimes ADA, smirking. “What?” Casey’s sarcastic voice replaced her oddly transfixed tone from before. “Want a high five from your moral-less lawyer partner in crime?” She drawled and Serena shook her head, still smirking.
“You so owe me twenty bucks.” Serena joyfully pointed out, her blue eyes dancing with a triumphant glee. Casey frowned, quickly remembering their bet from when the over-confident blonde ADA had first been assigned to sex crimes. “Pay up, Novak.” However, like a true lawyer, rather than admitting defeat, Casey fought it.
“We don’t know for certain who that was with Cabot. For all I know, that was Sally.” Casey pointed out, pointedly ignoring the fact that Sally the secretary had hair that reached her shoulders…and was currently a blonde. Serena just gave her the look, once more.
“Seriously, Casey?” There was still the look and the redhead sighed. “Sally?”
“Well, hey, you’re the one that told me she wasn’t a natural blonde. For all I know, she went back to her natural hair color…and…a really butchy haircut-” She tried but sighed once more when Serena just crossed her arms over her still-soaked chest, causing Casey to smirk a little. “Ok, ok, fine, so not Sally. But it could be someone else. Seriously, I didn’t see much.” Of her. Serena, again, almost added, thinking that Casey had a point…but they sure did see a lot of Alex.
“Did you see the smirk?” Serena questioned, knowing they both knew the trademark smirk, regardless of how dim it was in the room. Casey opened her mouth to answer when a broken voice echoed off of the building’s walls and hit them both clearly head-on, causing Serena to full-out smirk.
“Olivia!”
Serena’s eyebrow stayed raised, as if daring the redhead to challenge her, to refute that she, obviously, won the bet. Alexandra Cabot and Olivia Benson were, quite obviously, doing it. And Serena earned either a) a dinner or b) twenty bucks. Casey rolled her eyes and sighed, a tint of pink still gracing her cheeks. “Pay it up, Novak.” Serena repeated, a shit-eating grin on her face.
“Ok. Ok.” Casey looked down at her watch and blinked. 12:30? When did that happen? “Well, what about now?” She mused out loud, shrugging her shoulders. “I haven’t eaten, yet. And you haven’t eaten yet, I know for a fact.” She smiled at her friend. “And, besides, I think this would be a bet better off paid with a few good beers and good company…especially after what we just saw.” Serena nodded, watching with amusement as the elevator doors opened. She looked behind herself and saw that she had hit the button with her back, earlier. The blonde shrugged.
“Sounds good to me.” They both shared a silent, smiling look before Casey bent down and shoved a jumbled pile of soggy, dirty, forgotten briefs into the blonde’s arms. Serena blinked. Oh yeah. Work.
Shit.
Serena sighed and pressed the down button on the elevator, shaking her head. “And, besides, no one will notice, tomorrow, when you show up borrowing another pair of my clothes.” Casey chuckled, the laughter contagious. “Fortunately for me, though. I have the day off, tomorrow.” Suddenly, the redhead’s tone wasn’t so happy.
Serena, once more, raised an elegant eyebrow towards her elevator companion and partner in crime. “Don’t sound too happy about that.”
“Yeah…I have to go shopping with my mother tomorrow.” Casey sighed. “For curtains.” She pulled a face and Serena tried not to laugh. The redhead rolled her eyes. “Apparently, she wants them to match the whole entire goddamn house.”
This time, Serena really did laugh. And Casey laughed with her, for a good while, until the elevator doors opened. And then-“Oh shit.” Casey slapped her face with her palm. Ouch.
“What?” Serena questioned as she gently pushed the redhead out of the elevator.
“I left my lucky mitt outside the office, on the floor.” Casey was pouting again. Serena bit her lip, oddly, for her, nervous and cautious of what she was about to not-so-subtly imply.
“Well, you don’t need a mitt to get lucky.” There was a moment’s silence where they both just looked at each other outside of the elevator before Casey gave Serena one of the quirkiest, goofiest, oddly sexy-yet-adorable smiles the blonde had ever seen. It was contagious and, before Serena knew it, the blonde was being pulled by the hand into a taxi, the Johnson case’s briefs forgotten, scattered, on the floor of the building’s lobby where Casey had kissed her.
Ok, so, maybe today had started out as a really, really shitty day…but for some reason, with Casey’s hand clasped, cautiously, over hers in the cab, nervous smiles on both of their faces, Serena, for the life of her, couldn’t remember why.
And, as they both urgently speed-walked up the stairs to Casey’s apartment-her elevator was broken-and the redhead all but threw open the door, Serena was sure that, either way…it was sure as hell starting to look up.
First thing was first, though.
Serena blinked, remembering an all-together different twinge between her legs that she hadn’t managed to attend to, in the building.
“Hey, Casey…where’s your bathroom?”
-LE FIN-