Pretty Good, Law & Order: SVU, Casey/Olivia, PG
Title: Pretty Good
Author: ellenm, aka quasiradiant
For: vicki595
Rating: PG
Fandom, pairing: Law & Order: SVU, Casey/Olivia
Words: ~1400
Summary: Casey never knows what’s about to come out of her mouth.
Note: With a small apology to my recipient, who isn’t getting anything related to the actual prompt she gave me. I tried, but I got this as a late pinch hit, and I just couldn’t do it. Tell me how I can make it up to you, and I will!
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Casey Novak is pondering homicide.
Her whole career, Casey’s wondered what exactly might drive someone to kill. What might push someone over the edge from simple anger or frustration into a murderous rage. She’s interviewed dozens of murderers, hot-blooded and cold-blooded, who’ve explained to her their breaking point: finding out their girlfriend was cheating on them, being pushed in the street, hearing that someone had spread a vicious rumor about them, that it was May and killing someone just seemed to be the right thing to do.
She never really got it before now. But now-oh, now she understands.
They’ve been stuck on the BQE for forty-five minutes, and if one more person honks their fucking horn, Casey’s pretty sure she’s going to get out of the car, walk to the offending honker, and shoot them in the head with Olivia’s Glock.
“Casey,” Olivia says, a smidge too brightly for Casey’s taste. “It’d never work.” Casey hasn’t said a word, but Olivia seems to know exactly what she’s thinking. “How would we make our getaway? We’re stuck in traffic.”
Oh, the irony.
“Fine,” Casey says. “What are my other options? Because now it’s between killing one of them and killing myself. And I have court in the morning.”
Olivia’s hands tighten on the wheel, and her jaw clenches in suppressed laughter. Casey wants to be annoyed - and okay, she is, a little - but it may sort of be Casey’s fault that they’re stuck in this jam in the first place. But Casey really did need to get a look at the place before they released the scene, and if they didn’t get there soon, the uniforms were going to start getting antsy. And she really had been busy all day.
No use being angry, she thinks.
“So? Options? I’m feeling more homicidal by the minute,” Casey says, but she’s smiling. Olivia flashes a grin, brighter and shinier than any badge, and it’s little things like that - Olivia’s white teeth, her smudged eyeliner, the way her shirt is still crisp at five in the afternoon - that remind Casey why she’d do something so stupid as date a cop. “Oh,” Casey says, “and if you say Truth or Dare, I’ll kill you.”
Olivia laughs aloud, a little bark of a laugh, and says, “Then I wasn’t going to say Truth or Dare.”
“And anyway, what kind of satisfying dare could you do stuck in a car like this? Not like I could convince you to moon someone.” Casey thinks for a second. “Unless I could--”
“You couldn’t.”
“Okay, fine. Deny me the only shred of entertainment you can offer. And if you turn Rush Limbaugh back on, I’ll-”
Olivia rolls her eyes. “Kill me. I get it. Pretty sure threatening a police officer is a felony, by the way.”
“Who’s going to prosecute?” Casey asks. “And who listens to Rush Limbaugh? You should look more embarrassed about that.”
Olivia shrugs. “Once, I got stuck in an elevator at One PP for two hours with the Chief of Ds. He’s more conservative than you’d expect.” Since Casey’s estimation put the man somewhere to the right of Attila the Hun, this is actually kind of surprising. “I think of Rush Limbaugh as one more brick in the wall that stands between me and losing my pension.”
“Is that like how I switched from the Times to the Daily News so Elliott would stop calling me ‘Ivy League’?”
Olivia grimaces, but Casey’s not sure whether it’s because Casey used to read the Times or because she let herself be bothered by Elliott’s wheedling. Either way, Casey knows, Olivia’s got no room to talk: she’s the one, after all, listening to Rush and the one that’s growing her hair out because she was tired of the whispered comments about being a lesbian that followed her around like a portable white noise machine.
Casey turns towards the window. It’s high summer, and the sun’s nowhere near the horizon, still huge and hot in the sky. Bright sunlight, only slightly more orange than at noon, glints off the windshields and rearview mirrors of the cars around them as they inch forward.
Olivia’s phone chirps, some kind of non-offensive cop ring. “Benson,” she says, and Casey turns to watch her face.
Olivia frowns. “I understand, but-” She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I-” Then, “Look. You’re going to keep the tape up and you’re going to keep your damn feet planted right where you are until we get there. Which may, with your luck, take forever.” Casey hears a grumble through the phone. “Patience is a virtue, Milligan. Bye.”
She snaps the phone shut and drops it back into her pocket.
“Let me guess,” Casey says. “Uniforms at the scene are really excited to see me, and they just wanted to call ahead and let me know.”
Olivia laughs, full-throated and beautiful. There’s something about it, maybe the heat of the sun turning Olivia’s cheeks red or the way her fingers wrap around the steering wheel, something that makes Casey’s stomach flip.
Makes her want to say something she might regret, particularly while locked in a very small vehicle with Olivia, the queen of non-commitment. Casey opens her mouth, starts, “I-” but doesn’t follow it with love you the way she’s afraid she might.
“Yeah?” Olivia apparently missed Casey’s near-admission, the kind that’s coming all too often lately. Olivia’s a see-ya-later, kiss-on-the-cheek-after-breakfast, that-was-great-thanks-after-sex kind of girl, and so is Casey, usually, but Olivia makes her want to commit those grand gestures, flowers and diamonds and horse-drawn carriage rides through the park.
Casey recovers her senses. “I wanted to know,” she starts, and Olivia groans.
“Oh God, what?” Olivia’s the kind of private where she’d rather kill you than tell you her middle name, and Casey knows that in Olivia’s mind, no good question has ever started with, ‘I wanted to know.’
She forges ahead anyway. “If you wanted to, um, go to a barbeque. On the Fourth.” There, it’s out, Casey thinks. She’s been meaning to ask for weeks but never found the right time.
“At Elliott’s? I’m already going,” Olivia says, distracted by another driver who thinks there’s an ice cube’s chance in hell he’s merging into Olivia’s lane.
“No,” Casey says, drawing it out. “In Connecticut.”
“Connecti-your parents’?” Olivia looks over in alarm, almost tapping the bumper of the car in front of them in the process.
“Sure,” Casey says, choosing to remain mum on the fact that while the house is her parents’, it’s sort of a regular Novak family gathering, with aunts and uncles and cousins. No reason to make this more difficult than it already is.
“I, uh,” Olivia starts, and Casey is suddenly about a thousand percent sure Olivia’s going to turn her down. She’d been worried about asking, of course, but she didn’t really think Olivia would say no. She feels momentarily trapped, like the car is twenty degrees too hot and the cars are all too close. She looks out the window and concentrates on a distant rooftop and thinks, Way to go, Novak.
There’s a long, tense moment of silence, stretched out like gum stuck to somebody’s shoe. Casey holds her breath and keeps her eyes focused outside.
Finally, Olivia sighs and says, “Okay.”
“But-okay?” Casey had been ready to argue her case, but-okay?
“Yeah, sounds like fun,” Olivia says, though it doesn’t sound like she thinks it sounds very fun at all.
“Yeah, fun,” Casey says, like it’s nothing. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Olivia says, and even though they’ve been reduced to sentences of two words or less, Casey’s beaming. It’s a coup, and it’s terrifying to imagine Olivia trying to make conversation with Aunt Bertha, but it’s okay. More than okay.
In a couple hundred feet, the traffic starts to loosen up and then Olivia’s up to a breakneck twenty miles an hour. “About time,” Olivia grumbles. After a moment, she glances over at Casey. “One thing, though?”
Oh, God, Casey thinks, don’t ruin it, Benson. “Yeah?”
“Will there be potato salad?” she asks, absolutely deadpan, like it’s the most serious question she’s ever asked.
Casey laughs. “I do believe there will be.”
“Good,” Olivia says, then smiles and turns on her blinker as they near their exit.
“Good,” Casey says, and sometimes, you know what? It is.
Author: ellenm, aka quasiradiant
For: vicki595
Rating: PG
Fandom, pairing: Law & Order: SVU, Casey/Olivia
Words: ~1400
Summary: Casey never knows what’s about to come out of her mouth.
Note: With a small apology to my recipient, who isn’t getting anything related to the actual prompt she gave me. I tried, but I got this as a late pinch hit, and I just couldn’t do it. Tell me how I can make it up to you, and I will!
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Casey Novak is pondering homicide.
Her whole career, Casey’s wondered what exactly might drive someone to kill. What might push someone over the edge from simple anger or frustration into a murderous rage. She’s interviewed dozens of murderers, hot-blooded and cold-blooded, who’ve explained to her their breaking point: finding out their girlfriend was cheating on them, being pushed in the street, hearing that someone had spread a vicious rumor about them, that it was May and killing someone just seemed to be the right thing to do.
She never really got it before now. But now-oh, now she understands.
They’ve been stuck on the BQE for forty-five minutes, and if one more person honks their fucking horn, Casey’s pretty sure she’s going to get out of the car, walk to the offending honker, and shoot them in the head with Olivia’s Glock.
“Casey,” Olivia says, a smidge too brightly for Casey’s taste. “It’d never work.” Casey hasn’t said a word, but Olivia seems to know exactly what she’s thinking. “How would we make our getaway? We’re stuck in traffic.”
Oh, the irony.
“Fine,” Casey says. “What are my other options? Because now it’s between killing one of them and killing myself. And I have court in the morning.”
Olivia’s hands tighten on the wheel, and her jaw clenches in suppressed laughter. Casey wants to be annoyed - and okay, she is, a little - but it may sort of be Casey’s fault that they’re stuck in this jam in the first place. But Casey really did need to get a look at the place before they released the scene, and if they didn’t get there soon, the uniforms were going to start getting antsy. And she really had been busy all day.
No use being angry, she thinks.
“So? Options? I’m feeling more homicidal by the minute,” Casey says, but she’s smiling. Olivia flashes a grin, brighter and shinier than any badge, and it’s little things like that - Olivia’s white teeth, her smudged eyeliner, the way her shirt is still crisp at five in the afternoon - that remind Casey why she’d do something so stupid as date a cop. “Oh,” Casey says, “and if you say Truth or Dare, I’ll kill you.”
Olivia laughs aloud, a little bark of a laugh, and says, “Then I wasn’t going to say Truth or Dare.”
“And anyway, what kind of satisfying dare could you do stuck in a car like this? Not like I could convince you to moon someone.” Casey thinks for a second. “Unless I could--”
“You couldn’t.”
“Okay, fine. Deny me the only shred of entertainment you can offer. And if you turn Rush Limbaugh back on, I’ll-”
Olivia rolls her eyes. “Kill me. I get it. Pretty sure threatening a police officer is a felony, by the way.”
“Who’s going to prosecute?” Casey asks. “And who listens to Rush Limbaugh? You should look more embarrassed about that.”
Olivia shrugs. “Once, I got stuck in an elevator at One PP for two hours with the Chief of Ds. He’s more conservative than you’d expect.” Since Casey’s estimation put the man somewhere to the right of Attila the Hun, this is actually kind of surprising. “I think of Rush Limbaugh as one more brick in the wall that stands between me and losing my pension.”
“Is that like how I switched from the Times to the Daily News so Elliott would stop calling me ‘Ivy League’?”
Olivia grimaces, but Casey’s not sure whether it’s because Casey used to read the Times or because she let herself be bothered by Elliott’s wheedling. Either way, Casey knows, Olivia’s got no room to talk: she’s the one, after all, listening to Rush and the one that’s growing her hair out because she was tired of the whispered comments about being a lesbian that followed her around like a portable white noise machine.
Casey turns towards the window. It’s high summer, and the sun’s nowhere near the horizon, still huge and hot in the sky. Bright sunlight, only slightly more orange than at noon, glints off the windshields and rearview mirrors of the cars around them as they inch forward.
Olivia’s phone chirps, some kind of non-offensive cop ring. “Benson,” she says, and Casey turns to watch her face.
Olivia frowns. “I understand, but-” She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I-” Then, “Look. You’re going to keep the tape up and you’re going to keep your damn feet planted right where you are until we get there. Which may, with your luck, take forever.” Casey hears a grumble through the phone. “Patience is a virtue, Milligan. Bye.”
She snaps the phone shut and drops it back into her pocket.
“Let me guess,” Casey says. “Uniforms at the scene are really excited to see me, and they just wanted to call ahead and let me know.”
Olivia laughs, full-throated and beautiful. There’s something about it, maybe the heat of the sun turning Olivia’s cheeks red or the way her fingers wrap around the steering wheel, something that makes Casey’s stomach flip.
Makes her want to say something she might regret, particularly while locked in a very small vehicle with Olivia, the queen of non-commitment. Casey opens her mouth, starts, “I-” but doesn’t follow it with love you the way she’s afraid she might.
“Yeah?” Olivia apparently missed Casey’s near-admission, the kind that’s coming all too often lately. Olivia’s a see-ya-later, kiss-on-the-cheek-after-breakfast, that-was-great-thanks-after-sex kind of girl, and so is Casey, usually, but Olivia makes her want to commit those grand gestures, flowers and diamonds and horse-drawn carriage rides through the park.
Casey recovers her senses. “I wanted to know,” she starts, and Olivia groans.
“Oh God, what?” Olivia’s the kind of private where she’d rather kill you than tell you her middle name, and Casey knows that in Olivia’s mind, no good question has ever started with, ‘I wanted to know.’
She forges ahead anyway. “If you wanted to, um, go to a barbeque. On the Fourth.” There, it’s out, Casey thinks. She’s been meaning to ask for weeks but never found the right time.
“At Elliott’s? I’m already going,” Olivia says, distracted by another driver who thinks there’s an ice cube’s chance in hell he’s merging into Olivia’s lane.
“No,” Casey says, drawing it out. “In Connecticut.”
“Connecti-your parents’?” Olivia looks over in alarm, almost tapping the bumper of the car in front of them in the process.
“Sure,” Casey says, choosing to remain mum on the fact that while the house is her parents’, it’s sort of a regular Novak family gathering, with aunts and uncles and cousins. No reason to make this more difficult than it already is.
“I, uh,” Olivia starts, and Casey is suddenly about a thousand percent sure Olivia’s going to turn her down. She’d been worried about asking, of course, but she didn’t really think Olivia would say no. She feels momentarily trapped, like the car is twenty degrees too hot and the cars are all too close. She looks out the window and concentrates on a distant rooftop and thinks, Way to go, Novak.
There’s a long, tense moment of silence, stretched out like gum stuck to somebody’s shoe. Casey holds her breath and keeps her eyes focused outside.
Finally, Olivia sighs and says, “Okay.”
“But-okay?” Casey had been ready to argue her case, but-okay?
“Yeah, sounds like fun,” Olivia says, though it doesn’t sound like she thinks it sounds very fun at all.
“Yeah, fun,” Casey says, like it’s nothing. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Olivia says, and even though they’ve been reduced to sentences of two words or less, Casey’s beaming. It’s a coup, and it’s terrifying to imagine Olivia trying to make conversation with Aunt Bertha, but it’s okay. More than okay.
In a couple hundred feet, the traffic starts to loosen up and then Olivia’s up to a breakneck twenty miles an hour. “About time,” Olivia grumbles. After a moment, she glances over at Casey. “One thing, though?”
Oh, God, Casey thinks, don’t ruin it, Benson. “Yeah?”
“Will there be potato salad?” she asks, absolutely deadpan, like it’s the most serious question she’s ever asked.
Casey laughs. “I do believe there will be.”
“Good,” Olivia says, then smiles and turns on her blinker as they near their exit.
“Good,” Casey says, and sometimes, you know what? It is.