My Angel

Everyone back off, she’s my wife (on my knees for Casey with this song)

my life depends on calex

you tested my soul with yams and now you’re feeding me fluff - thank you

Benched | Alex Cabot x Casey Novak

Casey faints at the batting cage. Alex panics. There’s urgent care, tears, IVs, attempted soup arson, and cuddles. consider this my formal apology for yams. too tired to edit. fluff. lots of it. mention of needles and iv's 2.3k wc

“Come on, it’s not that hot,” Casey said, rolling her shoulders as she stepped up to the plate again. Her cheeks were flushed, hair frizzing beneath the helmet, and she looked determined, which, Alex knew, was Casey’s default setting, even on a Saturday.

Alex sat primly on the bench, legs crossed at the ankle, sunglasses fixed in place, and a book in one hand. She looked entirely unbothered, like someone who had not been dragged to a dusty batting cage on her only free afternoon. “You say that like you’re not about to pass out in front of suburban dads and ten-year-olds.”

Casey swung and missed. Then again. Then—thwack. A clean hit that cracked into the chain-link fence.

“There’s the overachiever I know and put up with,” Alex said, sipping her drink.

“I’m relaxing,” Casey shot back, panting slightly. “This is cathartic.”

“You prosecute creeps more gently than you treat that ball.”

But Casey didn’t answer. She stayed still after her next swing, bat slipping from her fingers. Her knees wobbled.

Alex was standing before she even realized she’d moved.

“Casey?”

Then Casey slumped to the ground.

Alex was through the gate in seconds, her stride purposeful despite the uneven turf and the useless wedge sandals she’d insisted on wearing. A teenage staffer reached out to help, but Alex brushed past him with a lawyer’s practiced authority.

“Move,” she said calmly. “I’ve got her.”

She knelt beside Casey, immediately checking her pulse, her voice steady despite the panic crawling up her spine. “Casey, hey. Talk to me.”

Casey groaned, eyes fluttering open. “M’fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Alex’s tone was firm but measured. “You just passed out mid-swing like a melodramatic heroine.”

“I didn’t faint.”

“You did. And we’re not arguing about it.” She adjusted Casey’s head onto her knee and glanced at the staffer. “Get water. Cold. Please.”

Casey squinted at her through bleary eyes. “Don’t yell.”

“I’m not yelling,” Alex said, already helping her sit up slowly. “You’re hearing the sound of barely restrained panic in an extremely competent tone.”

The kid brought a bottle of water. Alex held it to Casey’s lips with one hand and dialed her phone with the other.

Casey caught sight of the screen. “No ambulances. Alex, no.”

“Yes ambulances,” Alex said coolly.

“No! They’ll charge me six hundred dollars to sit in traffic and I’ll end up in the ER with some intern who thinks I’m hungover.”

Alex paused. Calculated. She weighed her options like she would a plea deal. “Urgent care,” she decided. “But I’m driving.”

“Against my will?”

“You fainted. You don’t get a vote.”

“You’re kidnapping me.”

“I’ll get off with probation,” Alex muttered, already looping Casey’s arm around her shoulder.

Alex helped Casey through the sliding doors of urgent care, her grip steady, her expression composed. The air conditioning hit them like a wall, and Casey immediately sagged against her.

“Try not to smack your face on the tile,” Alex murmured gently. “I don’t think your dignity could survive two concussions in one day.”

Casey managed a weak glare.

Alex sat her down in the waiting area before approaching the front desk.

“Hi, good afternoon,” she said warmly to the receptionist. “Novak, Casey. She fainted at the batting cages. She’s conscious, but dizzy, lightheaded, and pale.”

Casey made a strangled noise. “Don’t say pale.”

“You are,” Alex replied sweetly, “but in a very charming way.”

The receptionist glanced at Casey, who gave her a miserable little wave from where she was slumped against the chair.

“We’ll get her checked in right away,” the woman said, handing over a clipboard. “Just fill this out.”

“I can take care of that,” Alex offered smoothly. “She’s not in any condition to write her name right now.”

“Still standing right here,” Casey mumbled, eyes closed.

Within twenty minutes, they were in a small exam room. Casey sat on the edge of the bed, looking like she was trying to disappear into the wall. Alex sat in the visitor’s chair beside her, legs crossed neatly, reading a pamphlet titled Hydration and You like it was a Supreme Court brief. “It says here that coffee is not a hydrating beverage.”

“I’ll sue,” Casey muttered.

“You’ll lose. Science is against you.”

Casey groaned. “Don’t joke. I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying. You’re dehydrated.”

“Same thing.”

There was a soft knock, and the nurse entered. “Alright, Ms. Novak, your blood pressure’s a little low, and your heart rate’s up, which tells me you’re still pretty dehydrated. We’re going to start you on some IV fluids, okay?”

Casey stiffened. “IV?”

The nurse smiled kindly. “It’ll just be a little needle. We’ll put the line in your arm, and it’ll take about thirty minutes.”

“Wait. Wait, no.”

“Just a small IV in your arm. It won’t take long at all—”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Casey’s voice cracked. “Alex, I can’t—” She started shaking her head, eyes wide, panic flooding her face. “Needles—I can’t—no. No. Can’t you just give me, like, Gatorade?”

Alex stood and stepped in gently, putting herself between Casey and the nurse. “You sued the U.S. military. You can handle this.”

“Alex.”

Her voice was small now. Embarrassed. Her eyes were glassy.

Alex sat beside her on the table, slipping her arm around her waist. “Hey. Look at me.”

Casey did. Just barely.

“Breathe. You’re okay.”

“I hate this.”

“I know.” Alex kissed her temple, voice low and steady. “But you’re braver than you think.”

“I’m not just scared, I’m—I’m terrified.” Her hands trembled, and tears filled her eyes, slipping down her cheeks.

Alex’s heart cracked. She cupped Casey’s face and brushed her thumbs gently under her eyes. “I know. But you fainted, sweetheart. You need fluids.”

Casey sniffled. “Will you hold my hand?”

Alex stood and pressed the call button. “Always.”

The nurse returned moments later with practiced grace. “We’ll make this quick,” she promised.

Casey whimpered as the nurse prepped her arm. “Talk to me. Talk about anything.”

“Did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally set off the courthouse metal detector because I had a fork in my purse?”

Casey let out a wet, hiccuped laugh. “A fork?”

“Leftover cake. It was strategic.”

“Of course it was.”

The needle went in. Casey squeezed her eyes shut, gripping Alex’s hand like a lifeline, a tear sliding down her cheek, but it was done before she even noticed.

“All finished,” the nurse said, securing the line with tape. “You did great.”

Casey sagged against Alex, still sniffling. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did,” Alex murmured into her hair. “You were brilliant.”

“Did you really bring a fork to court?”

“With intent,” Alex said gravely.

Casey let out a soft, exhausted laugh.

Alex kissed her hair again and tightened her hold. “Next time, we’re going to the bookstore.”

By the time they got home, Casey was groggy but stable, her color returning and a blanket draped over her shoulders like a cape. Alex had insisted.

“Stop looking at me like I’m a ghost bride,” Casey grumbled as she flopped onto the couch.

“You passed out in public and cried over a needle. You’re getting pampered whether you like it or not,” Alex said, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “Blanket stays.”

“Fine. But I draw the line at hot water bottles. I’m not a reptile.”

“Noted,” Alex called from the kitchen, already rifling through the pantry. “Now. Sit back, relax, and let your competent, nurturing wife handle dinner.”

There was a long pause.

“You’ve never cooked a day in your life,” Casey said warily.

“I have. I just choose not to.”

“You tried to make toast once and set off the smoke alarm.”

Alex sounded very dignified. “It was an old toaster.”

“You tried to microwave pasta with the water already drained.”

“That was an experiment.”

“Alex.”

“I’m making soup,” Alex declared. “You can’t ruin soup.”

This, of course, was a lie.

Within minutes, chaos was quietly erupting in the kitchen. Alex had put a pot on the stove and dumped in a can of tomato soup without reading the part about adding water. Then she added garlic. And pepper. And half a bottle of basil because, as she whispered to herself, “that’s what chefs on TV do.”

Casey stayed curled on the couch, listening to the clinking of metal and muttered curses.

Then the inevitable:

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The smoke alarm screamed to life.

Casey didn’t even flinch. “So... what stage of the culinary process are we in now?”

“There is... a small issue,” Alex said as calmly as possible, waving a towel at the ceiling.

“You started a fire, didn’t you?”

“It’s contained.”

“You burned canned soup.”

“I enhanced it.”

Casey dragged herself off the couch and wandered into the kitchen, still wrapped in her blanket. She stared at the pot, which was bubbling with thick, violently red sludge.

“Alex.”

Alex looked at her, helpless. “I wanted to take care of you.”

Casey’s heart squeezed in her chest. “You’re a disaster.”

“I know.”

“But you’re my disaster.” She reached up and smudged some tomato off Alex’s cheek. “Let’s order takeout before you burn the building down.”

Alex sagged in relief. “Bless you. Chinese?”

“Obviously.”

They ended up curled on the couch twenty minutes later with lo mein and soup that didn’t require a fire extinguisher. Casey had her head on Alex’s lap, the blanket still wrapped around her. Alex carded gentle fingers through her hair as they watched some nature documentary narrated by someone very British.

“Hey,” Casey murmured. “Thank you. For today.”

Alex looked down at her. “For dragging you to urgent care?”

“For holding my hand. For kissing my forehead. For ordering me egg rolls instead of feeding me spicy tomato cement.”

Alex smirked. “It had potential.”

Casey yawned. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“And you're lucky you're dramatic enough to keep life interesting.”

“Mm. Let’s go to bed.”

“Will you faint on the way there?”

“Only if it gets me out of washing the dishes.”

By the time the dishes were ignored and the leftovers safely stashed, Casey was already half-asleep on the bathroom counter with a toothbrush dangling from her mouth. Alex leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with the fond exasperation of someone deeply in love with a woman who could argue down a judge but couldn't stay awake for a full hygiene routine.

“You’re foaming at the mouth like a rabid raccoon,” Alex said softly.

Casey pointed at her with her toothbrush.

“You love this raccoon.”

“Tragically, I do.”

Casey made a pitiful whining noise and swayed forward a little too dramatically, nearly bonking her head on the mirror. Alex caught her just in time, steadying her with a hand on her back.

“Okay, come here,” Alex murmured, easing her upright.

She plucked the toothbrush from Casey’s hand with practiced efficiency, dabbed a bit more toothpaste on it, and turned the water back on.

“You’re not brushing, you’re just… foaming and dozing. This is a liability.”

“I’m very tired,” Casey slurred, leaning heavily on her shoulder. “You have no idea.”

Alex smirked and gently tapped the toothbrush against her lips. “Open.”

“You’re brushing my teeth? What am I, five?”

“Yes. Five, dramatic, and currently a biohazard.”

Despite her protests, Casey parted her lips with a tiny huff, letting Alex guide the toothbrush across her teeth in slow, careful strokes.

“Wow,” Casey mumbled around the bristles, “You’re very gentle. Did you miss your calling as a hygienist?”

“I’m adding it to the list,” Alex said. “Right between ‘terrible cook’ and ‘expert wife.’ Spit.”

Casey did, then leaned her cheek against Alex’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut again.

“Okay,” Alex whispered, guiding her toward the door. “Bedtime.”

Eventually, after much blanket arranging and flopping and one brief moment of panic when Casey realized she left her phone charging in the kitchen, they settled under the covers. The lights were low, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the street outside and the occasional creak of the old building.

Alex lay on her back, one arm tucked behind her head, the other curled protectively around Casey, who had wasted no time sprawling half on top of her.

Casey rested her cheek against Alex’s chest, fingers lazily tracing little patterns on the fabric of her top. “I was really scared today,” she said quietly.

Alex kissed the top of her head. “I know.”

“Like, really scared. I hate that it got to me so much.”

“It’s not weakness,” Alex said gently. “Fear isn’t a flaw. It’s just… real.”

“I cried in front of a nurse.”

“You also made some good hits before fainting. It balances out.”

Casey laughed softly. “You really were going to call an ambulance, weren’t you?”

“You hit the ground like a sack of potatoes and then tried to argue with me about consciousness. Yes, I was going to call an ambulance.”

Casey looked up at her, eyes warm. “I love you.”

She reached down and brushed her thumb over Casey’s cheek. “I love you too.”

“Even when I’m dehydrated and sobbing?”

“Especially then.”

Casey leaned up and pressed a slow kiss to the corner of Alex’s mouth. “You’re the only person I’d faint in front of twice.”

Alex smiled against her lips. “If you do, I’m buying you a CamelBak and taping electrolyte packets to your blazer.”

They kissed again—soft and slow and sleepy.

Then Casey burrowed back into her side with a yawn. “If I die in my sleep, tell the nurse she was very nice.”

“She was.”

“And that I want to be buried with egg rolls.”

Alex ran her fingers through Casey’s hair, a quiet, rhythmic motion. “Noted.”

A few minutes passed in silence.

“You know,” Casey murmured, voice drifting, “you’re actually kind of good at this.”

“At what?”

“This. Comfort. Caretaking. Love stuff.”

Alex looked down, a little stunned. “You think?”

“I know. Even if your soup skills are a crime against humanity.”

Alex huffed. “Go to sleep.”

“Make me.”

So Alex did by holding her closer, tucking them together beneath the covers, and pressing one last kiss to her forehead.

woah there March

neon joe werewolf hunter: 1.01 - made ya look

now if you’ll excuse me, i have to go prepare a delicious dinner for my current lover.

yes mommy 🫡

Her in this angle (so gay)

that regina mills edit gave me gay panic she’s so fucking hot🧎‍♀️

“Alex loved how Casey’s hair looked when it was messy— in the mornings, right after her softball games, every practice on the batting cages— she loved how frizzy it could get. Above all, she loved its hue. It was one of Alex’s favourite things—autumn; Casey’s hair colour.”