It's All About Timing

By. Rainbow Life

Summary: You can go your whole life without meeting the love of your life, but when she arrives, she arrives with a bit of irony. Casey/Olivia – AU of their first meeting

Author's Note: If any of you watch Grey's Anatomy (I'm a recent fan), this plot idea might sound familiar lol But it's be stuck in my head for C/O and I had to write it. Hope you enjoy it :) Please review!

Shout Out: Shout out to the Softball and Sex Crimes: ADA Casey Novak forum – You all are amazing, thanks for keeping me entertained and sharing a love of Casey and Olivia :)

It had been thirty-two minutes and he just kept talking. Within the first five minutes, I told him I wasn't interested. Ten minutes in and I was desperately refusing his offer to buy me a drink – by minute eleven, the bartender moved onto someone else, leaving me alone with this freak. Okay, so the crowded bar didn't actually leave us alone, but no one was paying any attention to us. By the sixteenth minuet, also known as the top of the one a.m. hour, he was just rambling, talking about himself in between compliments toward my hair or eyes or whatever else he said while I zoned out. I contemplated getting up and leaving, but my glass was still half-full and I was pretty much freaked out about my first day on the new assignment in the morning, so I stayed to finish my Jack Daniels. Five minutes later (twenty-one minutes into the conversation – I'm a fan of numbers and a bigger fan of the watch my best friend bought me when I passed the New York Bar), he got a little closer and I shifted away telling him he was barking up the wrong tree. He didn't get it.

It has been thirty-three minutes now and my suitor is trying to flag down the bartender for, easily, the tenth time that evening. Sighing in defeat, he turned to me and smiled a smile I'm sure is charming when it isn't laced with alcohol. "I have some Beam back at my apartment if you would like to join me."

Before I could respond, he put his hand right above my bare knee. A split second before I was going to shove his hand away and abandon my drink to go home, someone stepped up next to me saying, "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Her voice was soft, but deep enough to exude sexiness.

The man trying to get into my pants (or, more accurately, my skirt) removed his hand and gave our new guest a dirty look. "You are actually, so if you could just leave…"

Ignoring his response, she turned to me, her deep blue eyes burning into my brown ones. "Am I interrupting?"

I smiled, thrilled by her intervention. "No, actually, I was just leaving."

"I'll walk you out," she said with a sarcastic smile thrown at the man sitting next to me at the bar. I agreed and without saying a word to the drunkard I'd been subjected to for thirty-three minutes, followed this stranger through the crowd of bar-hoppers. We made it to an open area close to the door, but out of eye-sight of the bar when she stopped and turned to me. "You're not really leaving are you?"

I shrugged. "I have to work in the morning, I probably should."

"I have to work, too. Come on, another hour? If you don't find me particularly interesting, you can cut out early and never see me again." I was entranced by her eyes and wanted to know her in more ways than one. She was positively gorgeous. She watched me as I thought through her offer and suddenly I felt very self-conscious.

"Okay," I said and was shocked to see her face light up.

"Great. Let me buy you another drink."

"Really, that's alright."

She put her hand on my bicep reassuringly, "It'll make up for the one you had to leave at the bar, I insist." A waiter came by and she ordered two bottles of beer. "I hope you don't hate beer," she said in a moment of realizing she hadn't asked me what I wanted. I thought it was cute.

"Beer's fine." There was a brief pause and then I took a deep breath and broke the silence. "You helped me get away from that dipshit and convinced me to stay past my curfew. Now I get to know your name."

She laughed, a sound which stood out against the noises of the bar and I instantly vowed to hear more of that laughter, convincing myself I can't live without it. "Olivia," she responded. "What's your name?"

"Casey."

"It's nice to meet you, Casey. What brings you to this bar on a work night?" The waiter returned with our drinks and she handed me one of the amber-colored bottles. She paid with a healthy tip for the waiter and he promised to be "around" and left to attend to the next group.

"I'm starting a new job tomorrow," I said with an uneasy smile. "I figure I can get a decent night's sleep with a slight buzz. Maybe a hangover would make things more interesting."

She laughed, nodding her head. "I'm sure it'll be fine. What do you do?"

I panicked. Not wanting to answer a barrage of questions about the legal system or questions of fascination about my upcoming work in the Special Victim's Unit, I lied. "It's boring, nothing special. What do you do?"

I saw a flash of something cross her eyes. "Receptionist. Equally boring." I knew she was lying, but the hypocrisy of calling her out on it kept my mouth closed. As long as I got to hear her laugh again, I didn't care what she claimed to do for a living.

I nodded in fake acceptance and took another swig of my beer, fearing the conversation was going to become awkward. I resorted to asking the same question she posed earlier, ignoring the part of my brain accusing me of being lame and uncreative. "What are you doing out tonight?"

She took another sip of her alcohol and a sad smile appeared on her face. I immediately regretted the question. "My girlfriend died a few days ago – I've become an insomniac and find myself in bars or 24-hour diners at all hours." My heart broke for her and I dug through my inebriated mind for something to say. She beat me to it, her infectious smile growing. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I just told you that. It probably sounded like a line – a sick line, but a line none-the-less."

"No, I just – I don't know what to say. I'm really sorry, I can't imagine." I've never been good at comforting people.

"It's alright. I'm sorry I brought it up. Tell me a little about yourself."

I tilted my head to the side for a moment, trying to put my thoughts in order. "There's not much to tell. Pretty normal childhood, boring work life. My favorite color is green, my least favorite is pink, but mostly because it clashes with my hair when I wear it. I'm a vegetarian, but only because I don't like the taste – I eat salmon from time to time because it's the only meat I enjoy. My favorite place to go is to the batting cage, but I have an unhealthy addition to coffee, so any coffee shop is a close second."

She raised her glass up, "Here-here to coffee additions." I laughed and tapped the neck of my bottle to hers and we both took a quick drink. She looked at her watch and back up at me. "It's been just under an hour – you leavin' me with my tail between my legs?"

I smirked, looking up toward the ceiling as though I were weighing my options. "I think I can stick around a little while longer." Before she could respond, a small group of loud, drunk college students pushed their way through the crowd to the door, knocking me into Olivia, who caught me without dropping her bottle of beer. Impressive.

The arm wrapped around my waist is flexed with the reaction of catching me. My hands, instinctively outstretched to break my fall, were flat against her shoulders. Feeling her arm and shoulders and being pressed against the front side of her body makes me believe that under the clothing, she has a flawless body to die for. Attempting to cover up my renewed infatuation with this woman I'd just met, I flashed her an embarrassed smile and pushed myself off of her not wanting to invade her space.

As my arms returned to my side, one hand still holding an almost-empty bottle of beer, she set her empty beer bottle on an abandoned table-top and reached out to link our fingers together. I froze, unsure of what to do next. She looked deep into my eyes, probably trying to figure out if I was freaked out by her movement. I wasn't and I hoped my outward appearance portrayed that. Without warning, she took a step forward and slid a hand behind my head.

Before her hand had completely settled on the back of my head, I slightly bent my body to press my lips against hers. I put my beer bottle next to hers, nearly knocking them both over in the process, and slid my arms around her neck. Her lips were the most amazing things I had ever experienced in my life. My heart did summersaults, the nervousness and excitement expelled by the kiss.

In less than a minute later, although it could have been twenty minutes – I was less than paying attention to time – the kiss heat up. This was not a "nice to meet you, I'm interested" kiss, this was an "I want you now" kiss. And I couldn't be more turned on. Hands traveled up and down our backs, her hands burying themselves in my hair, begging my lips to remain attached to hers. Our tongues became well-acquainted fighting for space in the other's mouth.

Putting slight pressure on my lower back with her hand, the lower part of my body molded with hers. Breaking the kiss, she trailed butterfly kisses down my neck, curving up to my ear. "Follow me," she whispered.

Going against "normal Casey actions," I let my desires take over and allowed her to take my hand and lead me through the thinning crowd. We reached the bathroom area and the door to the stall Olivia pulled me into had barely locked before she was on me again, kissing me with more passion than I thought possible. She pushed me against the wall of the bathroom and I slipped my hand under her shirt, feeling the tight muscles of her abdomen, then resting on her breast. The lace of her bra felt rough against my hand, but I ignored it, teasing the nipple under the garment.

I heard her moan as she kissed down my neck and onto my exposed cleavage. Her hands rested on my waist, a few of her fingers playing with the waistband of my skirt. I felt like a teenager again, desperate to feel skin against skin and ignoring the possible consequences. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pushed away from the wall and turned, turning her with me, to put her in the spot I just left.

Being more forward then ever, I began to unbutton the jeans clinging to her body. I paused making sure she was okay with it and smiled against her lips when she put my hand back onto the front of her jeans. After unzipping her pants and lowering them just slightly, I snaked my hand in, groaning with pleasure the moment I felt the heat emanating from her center.

Her facial expressions would be the source of my pleasure for the rest of eternity. The ecstasy clouding her eyes fueled my desire and I worked to bring unadulterated bliss to her. The sounds of pleasure echo in my mind and with a muffled scream mixed with a kiss to my lips, I know she's climaxed.

The bathroom door slamming open makes us both jump and stand starring at each other. From inside our stall, we know the new bathroom occupant can't see our actions, but it's still uncommon to see two sets of legs under the stall door. Why couldn't this be taking place at a gay bar? No one would think twice about two women in the same stall. Her eyes meet mine and she struggles to keep the slightly embarrassed smile from her face as I try to hide my wish of throwing her on the ground and going at it again.

Two more people walked into the bathroom and I rolled my eyes in frustration. There were only three stalls in the bathroom and I was certain they would get cranky and maybe even complain about us taking up the stall for so long. Olivia seemed to have the same thoughts, because she kissed me soundlessly on the mouth and zipped and buttoned her pants. Leaning close to my ear she whispered, "We should move this elsewhere." I nodded and we composed ourselves to exit the stall.

The woman standing and waiting raised her eyebrows at our exit. I avoided eye contact, but Olivia just looked at her and shrugged. "Damn zippers," she said without hesitation. "Takes two people to zip them up these days." Without responding, the woman walked past us into the stall we had been in.

Once outside the bathroom, Olivia took my hand and led me back through the crowd and out the main doors. The sounds of the bar disappeared and the sounds of the city took over. She was still holding my hand when she turned to me and kissed me softly. "Do you want to come back to my place?"

There was nothing I wanted more in this world. "Actually, I should head home." Why did I just say that? Damn commonsense.

"We should get together again sometime soon. I'll buy you another drink."

"Absolutely," I responded. I watched her pull a receipt and pen out of her pocket and write something down. She handed the paper to me and placed another kiss on my lips.

"Call me. I'd love to finish what we started." I blushed and kissed her again then she turned and walked down the street where a couple of taxis were waiting for drunken bar hoppers.

The next morning I arrived at the same job at the same place, but starting my new assignment left me with butterflies in my stomach. My memories from the bar sat at the forefront of my mind with Olivia's phone number folded up in my wallet. I craved her. No one had ever had that effect on me before and I wanted more. I just needed to get through my first day with this new assignment and then I would call her and hope she was free for dinner.

The taxi pulled up alongside the sidewalk across from a crime scene. I keep reminding myself I wanted this. I wanted something that would make more of a difference in the lives of individuals. I wanted to be involved with crime scenes and lab reports and not handed everything to me by the detectives. I can handle blood and dead bodies, but I think everyone has a limit. Hopefully my first day doesn't push those limits.

I paid the cabbie and got out, watching him drive away before crossing the street and flashing my ADA credentials to get into the crime scenes. I walked in and heard two people talking who sounded like they might be in charge. I assumed they were the detectives I would be meeting, so I made my way over to them to involve myself in the conversation.

After announcing my presence, the detectives turned around and I froze. The female detective staring back at me was none other than Olivia from the bar. Suddenly wanting to call her and get together was replaced by embarrassment and confusion. Didn't she say she was a receptionist? I could see the shock on her face as well, but she instead reacted with anger, "Who the hell are you?" Yeah, she was as confused and mad as I was.

Her partner cut in before I could say anything. "That's our new ADA. Casey Novak, Olivia Benson. Olivia, this is Casey Novak."

Before I could say something witty about how we'd already met, he was leading me away from Olivia. I looked up at him, irritated by his action. "Do I know you?"

"Yeah, shortstop, cop's team."

I still only recognized him slightly since the game was months ago. "Oh yeah, I didn't recognize you when you weren't covered in my dust." A warranted statement since we kicked the cops' asses. I tried not to look back at Olivia, desperate to talk to her alone. It was difficult to keep from laughing at the irony of Olivia working for the Special Victims Unit and my assignment being their new ADA.

Once we finished at the crime scene, the detectives headed toward their car leaving me to catch a cab. I caught Olivia's gaze as she opened her door and I saw something in her look. Was that intrigue? Couldn't be. My suspicion was solidified when the brunette winked right before getting into the car, her partner driving them away.

This could be the greatest job ever.

Continued Author's Note: Should I make a sequel? I have some ideas and they have to finish what they started, right? Let me know what you think.