Peanut Bar
[3]
It felt incredibly odd, the way these people went from bickering like seagulls over clamshells to as chummy and tight-knit as brotherly soldiers.
Casey nursed her glass of White Russian as though she was fondly attached to it. It gave her something to do with her hands, whether it be letting the drink dangle from her clawed hand or setting it down to trace the rim with her index. She’d had this order for far longer than the others- the detectives were throwing back beers as though they had been waiting the entire week for it. They probably had, actually.
She wasn't quite sure how she had ended up here. Friday evening had entailed the end of a very effortful trial, and after it had closed- she was satisfied by the guilty verdict- Elliot had told her he was going with the squad to their most frequented cop bar, and she was coming with him. It hadn't been a question, not in a rude way, but more so he had known she wouldn't have felt comfortable accepting a politely worded invitation. He wanted her to bond with them, and for some reason in the spur of the moment she hadn't thought to argue- so she was here, now.
Surprisingly, she didn't hate it. She wasn't uncomfortable the way she had assumed she’d be- it was enjoyable, watching the squad tease each other, slip jokes into statements about the week’s events and banter as though they had all grown up together like siblings. Cop loyalty was certainly something- she had assumed it would feel like sixth wheeling, but Fin and Elliot would throw her prideful grins when they managed to make her scoff at a wry joke, as though they were proud they had managed to get her to loosen up slightly. She wasn't sure why they were putting in the effort, but it felt good.
Mary's advice from the uncomfortable but entirely necessary dinner last weekend had helped her quite a bit. Despite her initial reservation, she had begun journaling- and begrudgingly, she had to admit it was helping. She had made it a habit of writing while eating dinner, which ensured she ate at least one full proper meal a day, and took a little time to sit down. It took more effort than she’d admit, though. It still took an amount of effort she was ashamed of to pull herself out of bed in the morning.
But here, in the warm, thick atmosphere of a cop bar, feeling as though she was a guest of moderate honor, Casey was okay.
Stabler guffawed loudly at something sly Munch had quipped, and even though Casey had zoned out slightly she smiled at the sound of his reaction anyway.
“Well you punch everyone Cragen will let you get away with, but be honest: which perp had the best hook?” Fin raised a hand to point at Elliot, who leaned back with her thumbs in his pockets and a broad, easy smile.
“None of ‘em. But really? The only one whose swing I’m afraid of is Casey’s.”
He showed all his teeth in the confident smile he showed her, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, and Casey snorted softly but couldn't stop a smile from growing on her lips. His grin broadened even further at her reaction. She thought the expression on his face reminded her a lot of her younger brother’s.
“Oh, that's true! You play softball don'tcha?” Fin said with an air of interest, leaning forward on his elbows, and Casey nodded twice with a raise of her eyebrows.
“Just another reason the opposing counsel should think twice before pissing me off,” Casey said with a bit of snark in her voice, to the delight of the boys as they laughed heartily at that response.
“You’re lucky I’m past my prime,” Munch declared, “Or you’d be taken down a peg, Ms. Novak.”
The group laughed again, and Casey joined them this time with a small but genuine chuckle. She still shot him a teasing raised eyebrow, obviously not wanting to pass the opportunity to tease, but it felt like she was being accepted.
“What are you talking about, John? You’re as fresh as they come.” She kid, and when everyone chuckled, it felt as though she was really one of them. She was, in a way. She’d never be as close as they were to each other, but it was like an aunt to a family- they loved you, you weren't as close as their own, but they were still yours in some form.
“For that, your next drink's on me, counselor.” John declared, and Casey grinned. She wasn't planning on ordering another one, but he had no way of knowing that, so the gesture was kind.
“Fellas, wanna play a round ‘a darts?” Odafin asked, gesturing to the dartboard on the wall a couple feet from the shared table, and some of the others agreed, so he went to request the projectiles.
With that break in the conversation, there was a momentary lapse of silence. It wasn't bad or awkward silence, but Casey’s immediate reaction was to try to fill it with something- but that brought her back to her issue, here, the only one in the group she wasn't yet entirely comfortable around.
Olivia Benson was drunk, but she was still Olivia Benson, and Olivia Benson was intimidating. It was weird, having such a reaction to a woman who was leaning back in her chair with a small dopey smirk on her face as she observed the surrounding friends with such kind eyes. Perhaps they had simply gotten off on a horrible foot, but Casey’s body still went awkwardly and uncomfortably stiff when Olivia’s brown eyes landed on her figure.
She liked having her glass in front of her- she could swirl the liquid and pretend to be thoughtful while sipping. It gave her something to do. When Olivia took a moment to study her, it would appear as though Casey was occupied- not with anything important, but it was better than just sitting there quietly. Drinking was what one did in a bar, after all, so she hoped it would appear nonchalant.
There were five people other than her at the bar- Elliot, Munch, Fin, Olivia, and Huang, although George had earlier ended up chatting with an attractive woman and had subsequently dispersed from the shared table to continue the conversation away from the teasing lips of his coworkers. Casey had been unfamiliar with his game, but apparently it was going well for him- from time to time, she’d glance over to check on him, and his partner always seemed to be enthusiastic.
The social circle narrowed dramatically when Tutuola returned with the darts, and everyone except for herself and the only other woman at the table stood up. Benson admitted she was probably a bit too tipsy to be throwing anything to Stabler the second he attempted to coax her into participating, and Casey simply didn't like playing darts. She was used to softball and court stances and not much else. Throwing a dart was very different from swinging a softball bat, and standing statuesque was probably not the right procedure for dart hurling either.
So then there they were, two stoic women sitting at a bar table too big for two people, and although the men were only a couple steps away to focus on the dartboard it still felt awkward not making conversation.
She couldn't think of anything to say, though, so she took a large swallow of her poison of choice and then angled her neck to face Olivia, dangling her head slightly so it may come off as drunken glance turned study if Olivia didn't take kindly to it.
Olivia didn't notice, though- so she must really be tipsy, because the Benson Casey was very often beyond frustrated with was insanely perceptive.
Feeling like her guard could be safely lowered, Casey relaxed into the observation of her coworker.
Olivia was quite pretty- Casey had taken the time to notice that before, but only in the way that it was infuriating that the brunette could be pretty and also cause so much chaos and reckless grievance for their cases. Here, if the dim lighting of a cop bar, the way her dark eyes seemed to sparkle illuminated a new perspective on her.
The dark eyes Casey had just been examining were doing something odd, though. They'd glance at the dartboard, then flick to the side towards the bar counter, then back at the dartboard, before sliding back over to the counter as though the momentary lapse had only been an unsuccessful cover to distract from her real object of focus.
Casey’s brow furrowed slightly. What could be so distracting?
She followed Olivia’s gaze the next time it flickered, trying her best to trace the direction. There were bottles arranged neatly on tap, so Casey’s first thought was Olivia was simply pondering what next she could order without coming off as an alcoholic, but Olivia’s gaze was lower than that, and it wasn't like she had to see the alcohol to wonder about ordering it.
The next logical conclusion was that Olivia had zeroed in on a target for affection, which struck Casey as odd. Casey considered herself sometimes blind to love and things of such nature, but Olivia and Stabler were very far from slick when it came to the depth of their partnership, and more than that Olivia didn't really seem like the type to pick someone up.
Casey waited until Olivia looked back at the dartboard, and then tried to pinpoint exactly where she was looking. Brown eyes darted to the side but also downward, so maybe she was checking out someone’s ass, but that also seemed not like her to do. Besides, no one was really sitting there, unless Benson’s type was two men who appeared to be finance bros who kept pumping fists at a basketball game on one of the screens in the corner.
Olivia sighed forlornly, tilting her head slightly, and then suddenly Casey was amused- she realized what Olivia kept looking at.
A bowl of peanuts was set out on the counter. Olivia was very desperately wishing for peanuts, but for some reason did not want to stand up and get them.
With a quiet snort and a jerk of her eyebrows, Casey stood, standing at the counter for a moment to wave the bartender and order another drink- so John was in fact being taken up on his joking offer- and so that she could fetch the bowl Olivia had so dolefully been admiring.
The brunette could not hinder her enthusiasm when Casey set the mesh bowl on the table, eagerly springing forward in her chair to snatch multiple peanuts from the bowl.
She set them on the table and then slammed a balled fist down, making Casey jump as the peanut shells were shattered and Olivia was given the opportunity to pop the now freed peanuts into her mouth happily.
“...There’s a more dignified way to get those open,” Casey said slowly, finding her seat again, and Olivia shrugged with a small smirk before simply repeating the procedure again.
Casey grimaced at the slamming sound of the brunette’s fist against the table, and then looked at her with a mild degree of bewildered quizzicality when Olivia hastily brushed small debris of peanut shells off of the edge of her palm.
“... ‘m impatient,” Olivia clarified, and Casey shrugged, taking it upon herself to begin cracking open peanuts herself.
She picked one up, holding on the second joint of her index and middle fingers, pushing down in the space between the two nuts so it would crack open properly without making the mess Olivia was creating. She freed the peanuts and then slid them across the table to Olivia, placing the shells in a small pile in front of herself before picking up another and repeating the process. Strangely, it was soothing- a repeating sequence. Pick one up, crack it open, fumble to pull the peanuts out, give them to Olivia, repeat. By the time she gave the next two, the previous ones had already been long devoured.
The process was interrupted only when Olivia took a handful, placed them bunched up together, making a fist and drawing her arm back before slamming down with force. Whenever she did so, Casey could quickly cover the small pile she had begun collecting of her own peanut shells so the remnants would not scatter and make a mess, and then when Olivia took to finding each individual peanut as they jumped apart, Casey could use the side of her hand to brush the broken pieces Olivia left behind together and conjoin it with her own pile.
After doing that four or five times, though, Olivia seemed to realize it was not only easier but also more efficient to simply wait until Casey provided her with more peanuts. Doing it her way left a mess that caused Casey to stop her own mechanical precision to organize the mess of broken pieces, and it took more time to root out the peanuts hidden in the wreckage then just sitting there and being served.
… But after a couple more repetitions of the process, Olivia grumbled something under her breath- whether it was admitting defeat or complaining about Casey’s persistence she wasn't sure, and then she picked up peanuts and started breaking them in a way that made it clear her drunken self was trying to mirror Casey’s motions.
“Alex would scold me for eating peanuts for dinner,” Olivia muttered. Casey froze, her green eyes flashing up to Olivia’s face. She instinctively assumed Olivia must be bringing up her predecessor as a taunt- but no, Olivia’s face was furrowed only in concentration on peanut destruction. She wasn't trying to remind Casey she wasn't Alex.
She had given Olivia the benefit of the doubt until that night in her office when Olivia had heart fully rejected every single one of her attempts to bridge some kind of understanding, and then she had subsequently never offered any benefit whatsoever. Perhaps that response had been harsh.
“I’d also scold you,” Casey murmured, before leaning forward conspiratorially, “but between the two of us? I don't fare much better.”
Olivia flashed her a broad grin that reminded her slightly of Stabler’s, and Casey wondered if cops had a certain way of smiling. She was very used to frown lines etched onto their cheeks, but when they did finally drop their armour, the smiles they provided were as sincere as their glares in the courtroom. Cops, unlike lawyers, did not smile for the purpose of the other’s perception. When Olivia smiled, she did so only because she felt like doing so. Casey could appreciate that about her.
“I can appreciate a lawyer who can get off her high horse,” Olivia quipped in response, glancing back up at her over her peanuts and snatching up the few Casey had pushed towards her. Casey smiled and gave a half-shrug.
“Wasn't in the best situation growing up,” Olivia said with an air of nonchalance that caught Casey mildly off guard, “so never really got into the habit of planning dinners properly.”
She was drunk. Did she mean to be opening up like this? To her, of all people? Sure, they had begun to be a lot more civil since Olivia had seen Alex again, but they were still far from friends- or, at least, Casey had thought they were. But with the way Olivia was glancing up at her every few seconds, albeit she was probably also simply checking to see Casey’s peanut procurement process, Olivia did not seem at all adversarial.
A step would be matched, Casey decided.
“Waited tables through law school,” she offered, “With the workload, never had the time too. And I certainly don't have it now with you people.”
Olivia huffed, jerking her eyebrows slightly. “All in a day’s work, right? But it's never just the day.”
“If only your team’s perpetrators worked nine-to-fives like my old cases’ did,” Casey pressed her lips together, “I’m sure we would find time to become Michelin star chefs.”
When Casey looked up at Liv, extending a bunched hand knuckle-up, the brunette was already smiling. Olivia provided her palm for Casey to drop the peanuts she had gathered into, but unlike the morsels Olivia’s smile did not fall from her face.
She popped the peanuts into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, already cracking open more as she did so. Casey huffed again, lightly, still finding amusement in her enthusiasm, even though by now she was acquainted with it.
Olivia was still too impatient for more peanuts to continue with Casey’s method- but she didn't want to revert back to her own either. She started using her stronger hands to hold three and strangle them all simultaneously. One rocketed to the side and slid down the counter to Casey, who picked it up and offered it back over.
A small growl came with Olivia’s frustration that peanuts could not be procured at the rate she wanted them to be.
“When did you last eat?” Casey quirked a brow, partially because her fingers were becoming rather tired from the process. Olivia shrugged idly and shook her head.
“Small lunch, no dinner. Obviously. You?”
Casey hesitated. That was a natural progression of the conversation. This was not threatening. She shouldn't be reacting as though she was being threatened. But oh, Olivia was scary to her, and her heart thumped in her chest- it frustrated and saddened her simultaneously, and it stressed her out.
“Decent lunch,” she answered honestly, she had stuffed her mouth with Chinese takeout while writing last-minute notes for the court case she had just debated, “and you watched me argue through dinner, so.”
It would be pointless to lie about eating now the way she used to. Firstly, it wasn't in her best interest to keep lying about such things, and also the reason Olivia hadn't gotten the chance to eat dinner was because court had gone long today and they all had come here straight after. Olivia was observant. There was no way Casey could lie about eating.
“Then shouldn't I be serving you peanuts?” Olivia looked up, her brown eyes blinking in a way part of Casey’s brain wanted to register as kind- the other half wanted to believe it was dismissive.
Casey shrugged, biting at the inside of her cheek. “I don't like peanuts very much.”
Olivia looked up at her again, wordlessly. Casey felt like she was being scrutinized because she was. She kept her eyes on the peanut shells she was cracking open in her hand, letting Olivia’s gaze examine the details of her face and trying to settle into the feeling of it. It occurred to her that perhaps she should be worried Alex had told Olivia too much- but it only occurred because of how that wasn't a concern of her’s. She trusted Alex intrinsically. Alex wouldn't betray her vulnerability like that.
Olivia seemed to find, or maybe didn't find, whatever she had been seeking. Without a word she stood and left Casey alone at the table.
Had she assumed she was lying? Casey wasn't sure. She tried not to feel hurt that Liv had left so abruptly, without even a muttered excuse. Lithe fingers stopped breaking apart peanut shells, but green eyes tried their best not to follow Olivia’s retreating figure. She fixated on the table, then gritted her teeth and glanced towards the men playing darts- Stabler had shot well, Odafin was patting him on the back.
The bartender showed up to give her the next drink- she had forgotten to finish her last one, but she thanked him anyway and pawed over a couple bills. Calling Munch over for this seemed like a waste of courtesy. Lawyers exchanged favors with a sense of rigor cops did not entail when they threw around comments and offers. Everyone was deceitful in some way- attorneys smiled when they didn't mean to, cops bid favors they didn't particularly expect to be carried up on. The trick was knowing who meant to do what, and trusting that one’s intuition was right. Casey was tired of mental gymnastics.
Casey was tired of mental gymnastics with the way Olivia had just vanished. She wasn't sure why she had assumed the conversation had been going well- she felt like her heart was bottoming out in her chest.
It wasn't an outright rejection, but she didn't understand what it was supposed to be at all. Olivia had very firmly blocked her out of everything in the beginning, and she had thought maybe something was shifting- but, apparently not. Perhaps she was stupid for thinking it had. Maybe Olivia was reminding her of her place beside her, the utter lack of one.
It was time to call it a night, maybe. Huang was still chatting with the same woman, the men were playing darts, and Casey was firmly not looking for where Olivia had gone too. She was alone at the table now. It was a sign she should leave before she could be entirely left.
Just as she had decided to do so, shifting in her chair and trying to decide which excuse to provide Stabler, Olivia reappeared.
Two plastic mesh bowls landed on the table, the containments of which bounced amongst themselves when Olivia dropped them. The brunette sported a smirk, as though she were very proud of herself for her ability to gather.
“There,” she declared, “Now it's a real feast, ey?”
Snack pretzels, oyster crackers, a small porcelain bowl full of marinated olives was set more gently down to accompany them.
Olivia hadn't vanished as a means of rejecting Casey’s attempt at companionship, she had simply decided Casey must be hungry and her drunken self had forgotten to explain that in haste to go procure something for the attorney to eat. She must have been circling the bar for tables that had snacks laid out- the smaller two tops had baskets while the larger tables typically didn't. Olivia had been wandering around to find empty tables to steal the baskets from.
She looked rather cute, sitting down- this time stealing Munch’s original chair at Casey’s left, so right beside her instead of across from her- with that self-satisfied grin.
Casey raised both eyebrows, snorted lightly, and then without overthinking it popped three oyster crackers into her mouth, flashing Olivia a teasing look that didn't affect Olivia’s drunken beam at all.
“Can't let my ADA go hungry,” Olivia countered, and although Casey was caught off guard by the comradely she tried her best to settle into it.
It felt very odd. For weeks she had seen Olivia solely in opposition to her. Olivia was often reckless with cases, overzealous on behalf of victims, and had a penchant for tunnel vision. Her method of zeroing in on a target and attempting to destroy everything in its path to that kept putting her at odds with Casey- it was though her narrowed scope of perspective kept showing her that Casey was a figure in her way, when all Casey was trying to do was fight on the same side. She had tried to be understanding of that, but at some point her patience had run out and she had decided Olivia was just irritating to deal with, more than that, really- she had decided Olivia was mean.
In the dim lighting of the bar, though, with the background audio of their colleagues bantering and playfully slapping each other and laughing over darts, with Olivia sitting by her shoulder-to-shoulder - Olivia was not mean. She wasn't intimidating, either. She had her flaws, but Casey would be kidding herself completely if she tried to argue she had never come across as unlikeable either.
“Didn’t know you were all that fond of me,” she tried to jest lightly, but the second she said it she regretted letting the words slip out. If they were friends, it was only barely. They certainly weren't close enough to make such jokes. The revelation was entirely one-sided.
Olivia’s eyes rounded slightly in surprise, her smile dropping- although, it wasn't replaced with any discernible expression. She tilted her head, appearing mildly intrigued and simultaneously guilty.
“... I don't do very well with change.” She said after a small pause, “If I was harsh in the first couple days you started with us - that's…”
“I’m just fucking with you,” Casey blurted out quickly, shaking her head and flicking her hand dismissively as though entirely nonchalant. Olivia seemed to buy her act, shrugging and then turning her focus back to peanut demolition.
They sat in a vague silence for the next couple moments- Olivia’s face was scrunched with concentration on breaking apart a couple of more hardy peanut shells, and Casey was thinking about what Olivia had just admitted.
The revelation was probably one sided, because the dislike had been in the first place. Olivia hadn't seen her as adversarial the way Casey had her. Maybe Olivia had been rude and dismissive the first couple cases because she was simply adjusting to a new attorney- one who, admittedly, was very green for the job. Sure, she had Branch’s recommendation for the transfer, but Olivia had never had a reason to offer her immediate respect. Maybe she just … hadn't earned it as quickly as she had assumed it would happen. In white collar, detectives were constantly rotated, and thus everyone was civil because everyone knew they would probably not be seeing each other after the case files closed. SVU was different. Originally Casey hadn't understood that.
It was a bad combination of events- Alex vanishing so soon after taking that major step in their relationship, starting a new strenuous job, all happening so quickly and so soon after Charlie.
Maybe she had been self-absorbed, and Olivia- although often rabid in pursuit of justice, narrow-minded and blunt- wasn't the enemy she had assumed her to be.
Casey chewed thoughtfully on another handful of oyster crackers, washing the saltine-like taste down with the ends of her last White Russian so she could begin sipping at the next one.
“Can you open this?” Olivia said suddenly, defeatedly placing a stubborn peanut in front of Casey and glancing up at her with an air that could almost come off as a frustrated shyness.
She smirked smugly at the detective, picking up the nut and pressing down on it confidently, before encountering the same problem. It was a tough nut to crack. She paused, glaring at it for a second as though it was the peanut’s intentional doing, before sighing.
Wordlessly, Casey dropped the peanut onto the table, raised a fist, and slammed it down onto the surface. It shattered under the force, bouncing the grown pile of peanut shells around the table. She wiped the debris off the edge of her palm, freed the edible portion from the wreckage, and offered it over.
Olivia snorted with a shake of her head, grinned at her, and ate them.