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The sibling dynamic with these two- They are chaos twins, whenever they are together shit breaks loose-

Like that one time Liz had to save them from getting sued-

The conversation after that must have been the equivalent of a mother lecturing her unruly kids:

Liz: first the banter- then contempt, yes Elliot I still remember that- now this-?

Casey: in my defense the contempt was Elliot’s fault! He mouthed off Taft to save his ego-

Elliot, whispering to Casey: I thought you said you were over it!

Casey, whispering back: after you tried to talk me out of throwing Taft of the bench? No way! I’m holding your ass on that forever-

Elliot: Casey how is that fair-?! That’s just you being stubborn!

Casey: your one to talk!

Liz, dumbfounded, to branch: did they hear nothing I just said-

Branch: Hey! You two, batting cages- swing until you get your lives together-

Branch, to Liz,: these kids-

Liz: your telling me-

Casey, grabbing her bat,: your ass is mine, stabler-

Elliot: keep dreaming, Novak-

#casey novak #elliot stabler #elizabeth donnelly #Arthur Branch #they are so twin coded-#they definitely play soft ball together on the weekends #And the banter just never stops-

Chicken soup-extended Ao3 version

A Law and Order story which continues after Happy New Year, Ben Stone. From the POV of the reader (female, no name/description).

A chance meeting with Arthur Branch on an icy cold January morning, gives Ben Stone pause to reflect on his marriage breakdown and his fledgling relationship with you. It also gives him the flu. But should he expect you to nurse him better?

Meanwhile, detectives Logan and Profaci come close to blows after arguing over ties, donuts, and women …

WC-about 3473

************************************

On a very cold January morning, it is probably not a good idea for Ben Stone to decide to walk part of the way to the courthouse, but he is feeling happier than he has been in a long time. He hasn’t been in a ‘steady’ relationship since his divorce and other than a couple of dalliances, for the past few years, he has really just been concentrating on his work. Since the New Year, he has spent as much time as possible with you, mostly at your place, as he’s never considered his apartment as any kind of love nest. With its many bookshelves, heaving with law books, autobiographies on jazz legends, general history and even gardening, it’s almost like an extension of his office. Your own home, on the other hand, feels warm, inviting, and ideal for romantic trysts. And Ben has certainly made sure there have been as many romantic trysts as possible.

The cab driver drops him off a couple of blocks from the courthouse. It’s well below freezing and any fallen snow has already frozen solid on the pavements, making walking with any decent pace tricky. But the sky is bright and sunny, and it compliments Ben’s mood. He strides confidently on the icy sidewalks, whistling softly under his breath.

He is due to present a case to a grand jury and it’s a tricky one, as the defence attorney Danielle Melnick is not making it easy for him. But when he arrives, he finds everyone is standing outside on the sidewalk. His colleague, Paul Robinette is also there, looking pristine as always in a dark grey coat and burgundy patterned scarf knotted neatly around his neck. To Ben, Paul always looks as if he’s been pressed and dry-cleaned.

“Hey Ben,” Paul raises a leather gloved hand in greeting.

“What’s going on?” Ben looks at the unhappy looking court staff who are huddling together, trying to keep warm.

“The fire alarm went off in the building about 10 minutes ago. No sign yet of when we’re allowed back in.” Paul notices Ben is wearing the same clothes as yesterday. It’s not his place to comment, but he has noted that it’s happened a couple of times this month. “If we don’t get in soon, we may have to reschedule.”

“Well, well. What do we have here?” A strong southern drawl booms into the chatter of the crowd. Ben and Paul turn to see Arthur Branch marching confidently towards them. No fear of slipping here, figures Ben.

“Morning Arthur,” Ben pulls up the collar of his trench-coat. “Private practice keeping you busy?”

“Morning Ben, morning Paul.” Arthur Branch greets them, genially shaking each man’s hand with an almighty strong grip. “Just on my way to a breakfast meeting with a client.” Arthur is a year younger than Ben but due to his height (he’s an inch or two taller) and his burly build, he looks older. Despite this, and the fact his face is flushed red with the cold air, Ben has to admit he looks in the rudest of health.

“How’s Lillian?” asks Ben, re-adjusting his scarf, not feeling quite so upbeat as he did earlier.

“She’s fine.” It’s well known Arthur completely adores his wife. “Still likes me getting out from under her feet every day.”

Ben smiles at the reply and ponders yet again where things went wrong in his own marriage. He worked long hours just like his own boss Adam and Arthur Branch. Why did his fall apart but theirs were still going strong? Were he and Laura wrong for each other, even from the very start? Neither of them would say the marriage was a mistake because after all, it gave them Pamela and Peter. But he did take Laura for granted. He was going to have to knuckle down and make sure this time, he didn’t make the same mistakes again.

Conversation continues to be good-humoured but after another 20 minutes in the icy wind, everyone is getting restless and very cold. The sun disappears behind a large grey cloud and it’s not helping that they’re blocking other commuters trying to get to work. Though the hot-dog and coffee vendors don’t seem to mind, they’re doing even more of a roaring trade than usual. Ben feels his good mood evaporating. And his throat doesn’t feel great either …

“You know what we need?” announces Arthur suddenly. “Chicken soup. Lillian makes it every weekend this time of the year. Don’t know how she does it but it’s the best you’ll taste this side of Georgia.”

Ben remembers he has left his thermos at your place and looks over to the food stands. Bit early in the morning but maybe soup would be perfect round about now, though he doesn’t think the vendors sell that. Much longer here and he will have to buy something. The biting cold is starting to seep into his bones.

Arthur continues to beam at Ben. “You know, a little bird tells me a young lady has finally nailed you down .. put a little spring in your step.” From the corner of his eye, Ben can see Paul grinning at him.

Ben raises an eyebrow. “This ‘little bird’ wouldn’t be Adam Schiff, would it?”

Arthur chuckles. “Now, Ben … I’m not one for telling tales out of class.”

“Something’s happening,” says Paul, noticing a very flustered clerk attempting to rush down the courthouse steps towards them. Slipping on a patch of ice, she somehow regains her balance. She looks very apologetic and just a little terrified.

“Everyone,” she pants. “Sorry, but the building will have to remain closed for at least another couple of hours.” There is a collective groan from the crowd, but Ben is relieved. It means he can travel on to his warm office. Paul has read his mind and is already hailing a cab for them.

“Arthur, aren’t you going to miss that meeting?” Ben really just wants to be indoors now.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll just mosey on,” drawls Arthur, still not making any immediate move. “I arrived earlier than planned so I’ve got plenty of time.” He looks with concern at Ben. “You know you’re looking a tad peaky. Maybe get that young lady of yours to rustle up some soup. Put a little substance on those skinny bones of yours.”

All three men say affectionate goodbyes to each other, Arthur Branch giving such a hearty slap on Ben’s back, it nearly sends him careering into another bystander. When a cab eventually arrives, Arthur gallantly holds the rear passenger door open for them and Ben sighs with relief when he realises the driver has got the heating on.

************************************

When they arrive at their office building, Ben feels worse than when he arrived at the courthouse and going up in the elevator is an eye opening experience. On a typical morning, everyone stands in silence, hardly making eye contact. This time, it’s full of sniffing, coughing, and blowing of noses. Ben closes his eyes, a feeling of dread coming over him. “‘I do not need this,” he tells himself, acutely aware his throat is starting to feel dry and scratchy.

After removing their coats and scarves, Ben asks Paul to tell their boss Adam Schiff the latest news. He makes a beeline for the little kitchen area where there is usually fresh coffee on the go and returns to his office with two steaming mugs. Flopping into a chair, he sits back and lifts his long legs to rest on his desk. As he takes out his pocket watch, it dawns on him he is still wearing the same clothes as yesterday and hopes Paul didn’t notice. Will have to put a stop to that, he thinks, and wonders if he should keep some clothes at your place. You’ve spent a couple of nights at his apartment too. Maybe you should keep some of your own clothes there as well ..? Or is that too soon? The world of ‘steady’ dating … he feels very out of step with it.

Ben hears a noise and recognises it as rain hitting the windows. He smiles, knowing that you like to lie in bed at night and listen to the rain outside as you find it so comforting. After checking his watch, he notes that just a couple of hours ago, he was in your warm bed, nuzzling his head next to yours. Ben closes his eyes. He can still smell your skin, your hair, even hear the sound of your voice, moaning his name ... “Ben …” Still feel how slick, warm, and soapy your bodies were in the shower. And he can still …

“Am I interrupting, counsellor ..?”

Ben is jolted out of his enjoyable daydreaming by an amused looking Danielle Melnick, who is standing in front of him. He lowers his legs off his desk.

“Er …hello Danielle ..”

“You okay?”

Ben looks at her, unsure now if the warmth he is feeling is down to sickness or the memory of early morning lovemaking.

“Think I’m coming down with something.” He tells her about the delay to the grand jury.

Danielle is looking much as expected. Perfectly coiffed hair and make-up, violet-colored coat with dress to match and, despite the slippery sidewalks outside, black high heels. At below average height, she more than makes up for it with her punchy attitude. Ben likes her.

“Wouldn’t at all surprise me if you had arranged it,” she says wickedly, setting her briefcase on his desk and sitting opposite him. “You know I’ve got you on the ropes, Ben. You don’t have a cat in hell’s chance of getting anything past the grand jury!”

“Really?” Ben replies good-naturedly. “And how did I do that? I’d only just arrived!”

Paul comes back into his office, looking so healthy, Ben almost can’t stand it. “Adam wants us,” he says. “And he’s not happy.”

Ben puffs out his cheeks. In a perfect world, he would just leave the office and return to your warm bed. You would be at work now, but it wouldn’t matter. Your perfume would still be on the sheets …

“No problem, gentlemen!” Danielle helps herself to Paul’s mug of coffee on Ben’s desk. “I’ll just wait here, shall I …?”

On the way to Adam’s office, Ben nudges Paul’s elbow.

“Paul ..?”

“Yeah?”

“The way I feel now. If Adam says, ‘take a plea’ .. I won’t be responsible for my actions ..”

************************************

“Uh huh … okay … yeah ..” Don Cragen’s side of this phone call isn’t making sense to Detective Mike Logan but he’s sure the Captain will fill him in at some point. Standing beside the radiator in Cragen’s office, he reaches out to get some warmth to his hands. It’s stone cold. ‘Doesn’t anything work in this building?’ he thinks to himself.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Cragen is saying. “I’ll tell Max. He’s due in this afternoon. Are you sure you’re alright, Stone?”

Tony Profaci arrives at Cragen’s office door, but Cragen holds a hand up before Profaci can open his mouth. He’s not ready yet.

“You slob.” Mike Logan goes over to his colleague and points. “What is that?”

Tony looks down at the white dusting on his tank top. “Just had a donut ..”

“Another one?” Mike shakes his head. “You know, Profaci … when you die and they cut you open, there won’t be any blood. Just powdered sugar ..”

“Meh.” Tony isn’t bothered. “What about you, wise ass? If anyone cuts you open ..?”

Mike points to himself, affecting an angelic expression. “Me? Hey, I’m full of milk and honey ..”

“That’s not what Maggie says ..”

“Oh, really?” Mike’s eyes start to flash. Any remark about this previous girlfriend always riles him. He stands over Profaci, who holds his ground. Mike jabs a finger into Profaci’s ribs. “You make another wisecrack like that ..” Profaci swipes Mike’s hand away. “Yeah? What are you gonna do, Logan?”

“Okay, Stone. I’ll talk to you later,” says Cragen, looking at Logan and Profaci squaring up to each other. “Got a couple of problems to sort out ..”

Logan and Profaci look at Cragen, who has wrapped up his phone call and is looking at them with his hands on his hips. “You ladies need to get a room? You do remember whose office this is …?”

Both detectives mumble apologies and Cragen sighs. Sometimes, he feels like he’s running a kindergarten. Profaci hands over a fingerprint report and disappears. But not before blowing a sarcastic kiss in Logan’s direction.

“What’s up, Captain?” Logan is still pissed at Profaci’s comment.

“Stone just called. To tell you the truth, he doesn’t sound so good, but he was able to tell me how things went with the grand jury ..”

“And how did it go?”

“It didn’t.” Cragen tells him about the courthouse’s evacuation. “And he doesn’t know when the grand jury will be reconvened.”

Mike Logan returns to his desk. He glares over at Tony again. “Hey Profaci. What was that remark about Maggie ..?” Tony shrugs, refusing to answer him.

“Any more wisecracks, I’ll nail your tie to that desk ..”

“At least, I’ve got taste.” Profaci points at Logan’s red tartan tie. “If anyone’s ties need nailed to a desk ...”

There then proceeds a heated argument between the two detectives, which is basically full of empty threats and hot air. Cragen shuts his office door hoping to block out the noise but even after doing so, he can still hear them arguing. ‘I’m sure this happened last week too,’ he murmurs under his breath. He reaches for his fourth coffee of the morning, idly wondering what Marge will make for dinner.

He kicks the radiator and it makes a familiar gurgling sound. After a few moments, a welcoming warmth radiates from it.“Well, at least something works in this building,” he thinks to himself …

************************************

Luckily, the grand jury reconvenes later on that afternoon. Despite Ben’s voice faltering several times during his questioning of witnesses, the grand jury agrees with his recommendation of a charge of murder in the second degree or a possibility of manslaughter in the first degree, if (as he sees it), Danielle Melnick sees sense.

By the end of the day, he is not a well man at all. His always efficient secretary dashes to a nearby pharmacy and phones you to let you know what’s happened. Paul helps him into a cab and Ben’s briefcase is filled with various tablets and painkillers, with orders not to come in the next day. Once in the cab, Ben hesitates. Should he give the driver his own address or yours? He can’t just turn up at your place, expecting you to nurse him better. Can he? Ben’s forehead feels very hot, his body cold and shivery but he tells the cabbie to continue driving until he decides what he should do.

Ben gazes out of the window, watching the lights and the people of New York go by. His head feels like it’s full of cotton wool, but he does recall how content Arthur Branch was that morning. To be that happy after all these years, Arthur and Lillian must be … well, soulmates or something, Ben reckons. He rests his head back against the seat. Was that it? He and Laura just weren’t soulmates? The past few weeks run through Ben’s mind like a kind of movie-he is able to play, pause and rewind again everything that’s happened. Seeing you naked for the first time. Tender whispers, touches, and caresses under the bedclothes. A first breakfast together, a stroll in the park on a Sunday afternoon. And a tense moment when it felt like everything was over before it had begun. It hadn’t been any real argument. More of an edgy discussion about Ben working late and …

Ben pauses the movie and sits up. Oh, God. Not again. Not this time.

The cabbie looks at Ben in the rear view mirror. “Hey, you okay?” he calls back. “Made a decision yet?”

“Yeah, I’ve made a decision.” Ben leans forward and points a finger towards a turn up ahead. “Take the next right here ..”

************************************

A few days later and Ben Stone is sitting in a comfy armchair in the corner of your bedroom, watching you strip the bed. Thanks to the weather and that flu outbreak ripping its way through his office, he has been stuck in bed with something close to a fever and it’s time to refresh everything, pillowcases, sheets, the lot.

Holding the stripped sheets in your arms, you turn to look at him. Despite the thermometer in his mouth, he flashes a dimpled grin. You can’t help but smile back. His lean frame and outfit of striped pyjama bottoms and white vest, along with the tousled hair and boyish face make him look about 12.

He removes the thermometer. “Need a hand?” The usual soft voice is raspy, and he winces a little, his throat feeling like sandpaper. “No, I can manage,” you say. “Anyway, you’re not really offering, are you?”

“You’re right, I’m not.” He grins again.

You walk over to him, resting the back of your hand against his forehead. “Well, you’re cooler than you were yesterday.” Removing your hand, he kisses the back of it.

“Careful, Stone. You’re still a little germ factory. I don’t want you to give it to me!”

He chuckles and releases your hand, popping the thermometer back into his mouth again.

“Do you want a cardigan or a blanket?” He shakes his head. After another couple of minutes, you check the thermometer. “It’s okay.” Ben sees the relief on your face, knowing you were worried, especially as his temperature had shown no signs of coming down quickly. He grabs your just released hand again, squeezing it reassuringly. “And I’m okay.”

You kiss him on the forehead and continue to gather up the rest of the bed clothes ready to carry them downstairs to be washed.

Suddenly, Ben says, “What’s that smell?”

“Oh, lord!” You run out of the room with the bedding and almost fall down the stairs in a panic. He can just about make out faint noises from the kitchen, rattling of cutlery and pans. Possibly a couple of swear words. Then he hears you shout, “It’s okay!”

He looks around the room. A pair of his red and blue striped braces are hanging over the back of another chair across from him. A white bra has also been thrown there. He smiles, remembering the first time he had seen you get ready for work in this room. He had sat on the edge of the bed, watching you put on that bra and buttoning up your blouse. And then your half-hearted protests when he had come over to unbutton the blouse again. He had been nearly late for work that day …

For the past few days, you have been sleeping in the spare bedroom. He hopes that now his temperature is normal, you will sleep beside him tonight.

It’s only four in the afternoon but the room suddenly darkens. He looks out of the window beside him and sees ominous dark grey clouds gathering. The curtains billow gently back, a cool breeze welcoming on his still flushed face. He hears your footsteps on the stairs again and as you arrive a little breathless, a wonderful savoury aroma seems to enter the room with you.

“Think it’s ready,” you puff. “But if you don’t like it …”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” Ben hasn’t been able to manage much food but hopes a little may spark his appetite, especially when you have gone to so much trouble.

He guiltily watches you making the bed. He really wants to help but now feels quite sleepy again. You help him out of the armchair and walk him to the side of the bed, where he removes his pyjama bottoms. He sighs gratefully as he gets in and lies on his back, welcoming the coolness of the fresh sheets against his skin.

“Need anything, love?” you ask, gently touching his cheek. Ben Stone looks up at you through half closed baby blue eyes. “Just you,” he murmurs, patting the empty space on the bed beside him.

Relenting, you take off your trainers and jogging bottoms and get in beside him. Snuggling under the duvet, Ben rolls over onto his side to face you, resting an arm across your body and intertwining a long leg through one of your own. He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, and you wrap an arm around him, pulling him close. Eventually, you both fall asleep to the noise of the heavy sleet now hitting the bedroom window and the smell of chicken soup drifting its delicious way around the house.

Chicken soup-short version

Happy New Year Ben Stone

#law and order #eada ben stone #ben stone #ben stone x oc #ben stone x reader #fanfic #ben stone fanfic #mike logan #tony profaci #don cragen #paul robinette #arthur branch #danielle melnick #romance #fluff #norah jones #come away with me

Chicken soup-extended Ao3 version

A Law and Order story which continues after Happy New Year, Ben Stone. From the POV of the reader (female, no name/description).

Meanwhile, detectives Logan and Profaci come close to blows after arguing over ties, donuts, and women …

WC-about 3473

************************************

“Hey Ben,” Paul raises a leather gloved hand in greeting.

“What’s going on?” Ben looks at the unhappy looking court staff who are huddling together, trying to keep warm.

“Morning Arthur,” Ben pulls up the collar of his trench-coat. “Private practice keeping you busy?”

“How’s Lillian?” asks Ben, re-adjusting his scarf, not feeling quite so upbeat as he did earlier.

“She’s fine.” It’s well known Arthur completely adores his wife. “Still likes me getting out from under her feet every day.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. “This ‘little bird’ wouldn’t be Adam Schiff, would it?”

Arthur chuckles. “Now, Ben … I’m not one for telling tales out of class.”

“Arthur, aren’t you going to miss that meeting?” Ben really just wants to be indoors now.

************************************

“Am I interrupting, counsellor ..?”

Ben is jolted out of his enjoyable daydreaming by an amused looking Danielle Melnick, who is standing in front of him. He lowers his legs off his desk.

“Er …hello Danielle ..”

“You okay?”

Ben looks at her, unsure now if the warmth he is feeling is down to sickness or the memory of early morning lovemaking.

“Think I’m coming down with something.” He tells her about the delay to the grand jury.

“Really?” Ben replies good-naturedly. “And how did I do that? I’d only just arrived!”

Paul comes back into his office, looking so healthy, Ben almost can’t stand it. “Adam wants us,” he says. “And he’s not happy.”

“No problem, gentlemen!” Danielle helps herself to Paul’s mug of coffee on Ben’s desk. “I’ll just wait here, shall I …?”

On the way to Adam’s office, Ben nudges Paul’s elbow.

“Paul ..?”

“Yeah?”

“The way I feel now. If Adam says, ‘take a plea’ .. I won’t be responsible for my actions ..”

************************************

“Well, that’s a shame,” Cragen is saying. “I’ll tell Max. He’s due in this afternoon. Are you sure you’re alright, Stone?”

Tony Profaci arrives at Cragen’s office door, but Cragen holds a hand up before Profaci can open his mouth. He’s not ready yet.

“You slob.” Mike Logan goes over to his colleague and points. “What is that?”

Tony looks down at the white dusting on his tank top. “Just had a donut ..”

“Another one?” Mike shakes his head. “You know, Profaci … when you die and they cut you open, there won’t be any blood. Just powdered sugar ..”

“Meh.” Tony isn’t bothered. “What about you, wise ass? If anyone cuts you open ..?”

Mike points to himself, affecting an angelic expression. “Me? Hey, I’m full of milk and honey ..”

“That’s not what Maggie says ..”

“Okay, Stone. I’ll talk to you later,” says Cragen, looking at Logan and Profaci squaring up to each other. “Got a couple of problems to sort out ..”

Logan and Profaci look at Cragen, who has wrapped up his phone call and is looking at them with his hands on his hips. “You ladies need to get a room? You do remember whose office this is …?”

“What’s up, Captain?” Logan is still pissed at Profaci’s comment.

“Stone just called. To tell you the truth, he doesn’t sound so good, but he was able to tell me how things went with the grand jury ..”

“And how did it go?”

“It didn’t.” Cragen tells him about the courthouse’s evacuation. “And he doesn’t know when the grand jury will be reconvened.”

Mike Logan returns to his desk. He glares over at Tony again. “Hey Profaci. What was that remark about Maggie ..?” Tony shrugs, refusing to answer him.

“Any more wisecracks, I’ll nail your tie to that desk ..”

“At least, I’ve got taste.” Profaci points at Logan’s red tartan tie. “If anyone’s ties need nailed to a desk ...”

He kicks the radiator and it makes a familiar gurgling sound. After a few moments, a welcoming warmth radiates from it.“Well, at least something works in this building,” he thinks to himself …

************************************

Ben pauses the movie and sits up. Oh, God. Not again. Not this time.

The cabbie looks at Ben in the rear view mirror. “Hey, you okay?” he calls back. “Made a decision yet?”

“Yeah, I’ve made a decision.” Ben leans forward and points a finger towards a turn up ahead. “Take the next right here ..”

************************************

“You’re right, I’m not.” He grins again.

You walk over to him, resting the back of your hand against his forehead. “Well, you’re cooler than you were yesterday.” Removing your hand, he kisses the back of it.

“Careful, Stone. You’re still a little germ factory. I don’t want you to give it to me!”

He chuckles and releases your hand, popping the thermometer back into his mouth again.

You kiss him on the forehead and continue to gather up the rest of the bed clothes ready to carry them downstairs to be washed.

Suddenly, Ben says, “What’s that smell?”

For the past few days, you have been sleeping in the spare bedroom. He hopes that now his temperature is normal, you will sleep beside him tonight.

“Think it’s ready,” you puff. “But if you don’t like it …”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” Ben hasn’t been able to manage much food but hopes a little may spark his appetite, especially when you have gone to so much trouble.

“Need anything, love?” you ask, gently touching his cheek. Ben Stone looks up at you through half closed baby blue eyes. “Just you,” he murmurs, patting the empty space on the bed beside him.

Chicken soup-short version

Happy New Year Ben Stone

#arthur branch

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