Clotheshorse
By
Disclaimer:
They’re not mine. Dick
Wolf, etc etc etc have the right to remain owners of them… anything I
do with them is purely for fangeeking and only for fangeeking purposes.
Razz
me: shaych3@yahoo.com
***
"Honey,
where's your blue shirt?"
"Which
one, love?"
"You
know the one... you wear it under the black pin stripe all the time."
"Oh,
yeah, it's over there, why?"
"I want
to wear it today."
"But I
was going to wear it for court tomorrow."
"So
we'll do laundry," Olivia said, as she slid her arms around Casey from
behind and nibbled on her neck. "Wearing your stuff is like
having an all day hug."
Casey
melted.
"Here,"
she said, handing over the garment in question.
Liv
took it and slipped it over her head. "How's it
look?" She primped and preened, modeling the top for her
lover.
Casey
laughed. "It looks fine, but if you don't want it to look
fine on the floor, you'd better cut that out."
Olivia
sauntered into her lover's arms. "Oh?" She tipped
her head up and nipped Casey's chin. "Wouldn't want to be
late for work."
"Again,"
Casey whispered as her eyes closed in hedonistic delight.
The
detective groaned. "You would remind me." She
smacked Casey's bottom and scooted away before the taller ADA could
retaliate.
Mock-glaring,
Casey said, "I'll remember that."
"I hope
you do," Liv replied in a teasing tone.
Chuckling,
Casey turned away and began to pin her hair up in a loose
chignon. When she was done, she reached down and picked up a
long, reddish scarf and wound it about her throat.
"Hey,
isn't that-"
"Yours?
Yeah, but you never wear it anymore so..."
Olivia
grinned. Wrapping her arms around Casey, she said, "I wonder
if they'll ever figure it out."
"What's
that?" Casey replied as she turned and cuddled her lover.
"That
we're wearing each other's clothes."
Casey
snorted. "They're guys, Liv. They probably think we
shop at the same stores."
Laughing,
they exited Casey's apartment and headed for work.
***
"Don't
look now, but I think there must have been a sale at Macy's recently -
our clothes doubles are at it again," said Detective John Munch sotto
voce to his partner, Fin Tutuola.
Fin
just gave him a look like he was nuts.
Elliot,
overhearing, turned to glance at his erstwhile partner and shook his
head.
"Women,"
he said with the air of one who has no clue. "I thought there
was some law against wearing the same thing as your best friend."
Fin's
outraged glare turned to Stabler. "You're both blind as
bats." Shaking his head, he said, "Ain't you two done never
seen nothin'?" As if completely unable to fathom the two
other detective's idiocy, Fin shook his head and strode off toward the
coffee bar.
"What?
What'd we do?" Stabler said, his face an innocent mask of confusion.
"Elliot,
my friend, I believe we are, in the parlance, 'in the dark' with regard
to some esoteric shade of our social structure. Perhaps it is
time for us to engage in that skill for which we are gainfully
employed. Namely, we should detect - ferret out the meaning
of this strange phenomenon of our lovely ladies wearing garments of
similar fashion and style whilst appearing to avoid any of the
cattishness common to such faux pas," said Munch.
Elliot
blinked and then shrugged. "Or we can just forget
it. I mean, what do we care? We're men.
To us, clothes are for one purpose - to sop of the stains from all the
shit we spill on ourselves."
At that
moment, Captain Cragen came storming out of his office, the front of
his shirt a ruined wreck of blue - obviously a pen had exploded,
leaving the older man covered in ink.
With
one eyebrow raised, Munch watched their commanding officer head for the
bathroom and said, "You may be right, my friend. You may be
right."
fin
Pairology: A Dyad of Love's Ramble