Disclaimer: I don't own anything

As always, many thanks to Lily_Moonlight for reading through, correcting mistakes and giving reassurance.

I've actually had that idea for quite a while. Got it last year while we were on vacation in South Beach and I just wondered... how many ended up with what I made Mac and Stella end up and not remembered. I held on to it for a bit but eventually decided to write it out and not save it for whatever.

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Groaning, Mac opened his eyes, his head pounding and he felt strangely sore as he tried to push himself up, a wave of nausea hitting him. He slumped back down onto his stomach, swallowing hard before attempting again. With his body protesting, he managed to get himself into an upright position, his feet finally slipping over the edge of the bed. They touched the ground almost carefully but he remained seated; needing to remain seated so the constant throbbing of his temples had a chance to subdue.

It did, slowly and eventually enough for him to pull himself together. He struggled to his feet, controlling dizziness and another wave of nausea before becoming aware of being completely naked. Confused, he stared down at his exposed body as if it had the answer to the why spelled out somewhere. Only gradually did he seem to realize that it wasn't and with his mind fully back to reality, he turned. He began to search for his t-shirt and boxers which usually served as pajamas but halted when he noticed the ocean-turquoise bed sheets. His were white. All of them. Plain and simple and once again he stared in puzzlement. They weren't his sheets; it wasn't his bed. Not his bed meant it wasn't his bedroom to begin with and even more perplexed, he stood back up.

He let his gaze wander around, not too fast, his look grazing several items that, contrary to the room, seemed familiar and he tried to place them until he located his underwear he had worn – yesterday?

Leaving the side and support of bed he strolled over to the door, picking his boxers off the floor and with his hand planted firmly on the dresser next to him, he slipped them on. The rest of his clothing was nowhere in sight yet there was a different sight which caught his attention as his gaze fell onto the mirror he stood in front of. He looked like he felt – like hell.

It didn't take long to locate the door he'd been searching for and an instant later he stepped into the bathroom. He halted behind the door, inspecting the clean space and this time it was the room which he thought he recognized; the tiles and wall color, the colorful shower curtain, the design of the room itself. The towels he was sure were the ones he had given her upon moving in and now certain who this bathroom and consequently the apartment belonged to, he let himself sink against the door, closing his eyes. To be here was and then wasn't a rather strange thought but he ignored the confusion which arose again and strode over to the sink he supported his weight on, staring into another mirror. The reflecting glass didn't show an image that differed from the one he had only recently gazed at and the cold water he splashed into his ragged face didn't change a lot. Yet at least he felt a little more awake and running a hand through his messy hair, he walked back into the bedroom. After another glance around, he continued into the hallway, a trail of clothing greeting him as soon as he did. A very distinguishable trail of clothing, leading through the entire length of the corridor, and all at once he grasped that the image of him stumbling through that door with her in his arms, pressing her up against the wall as his lips slid eagerly down her neck, hearing soft moans escaping the lips he had then devoured hadn't been a dream at all. It had been real, it had happened, here, the garments were indisputable proof.

Muffled noises brought his senses back to the present and he started towards them about to grab his undershirt off the floor when something else caught his attention. He picked it up, staring for what appeared to be an eternity before placing it back on the small sideboard he had taken it from and slowly closed the distance between him and the nearest doorway. Entering the kitchen, he found her standing sideways to him, rummaging through a cupboard. Her curls were pulled into a rather chaotic bun and a knee-length satin robe enveloped her body, the knot either having come lose or not having been tied in the first place. One way or the other, the delicate fabric had slipped off one of her shoulders, giving him a generous view of her cleavage as she continued to busy herself with what he knew were the preparations of tea. Her panties were the only other item of clothing covering her and he let his eyes feast on her delightful body, the exploration coming to an abrupt halt at her hip. He stared then blinked and stared again but it hadn't been his imagination; it was still there.

"You have a tattoo?"

His voice seemed to echo in the room, at least it did in his head and he felt she was spinning as she shifted, the bouncing of her curls making him lightheaded.

"So do you." Her words were factual and she turned fully around, her eyes locking with his. They were bloodshot as well and she, too, looked worn, however, not nearly as bad as him.

"Excuse me?" He lifted his brows or attempted to in any case, not entirely sure if he was successful.

Holding on to his eyes, she indicated to his left shoulder yet it took him a moment to understand. Slowly, with her gaze continuing to focus on him, he lifted his arm, his eyes shifting towards it with a slight delay and once again he discovered something to stare at in puzzlement. The skin was still red around the small depiction on his upper arm, the tiny remains of some sort of a band-aid that had obviously been torn off in haste visible. It was what his gaze was fixed at as he tried to remember how he had come in the possession of what it had covered up but he quickly acknowledged that he was unable to do so.

"God," he groaned, lowering his arm and closing his eyes. He let his body sink against the refrigerator, his shoulder and upper arm supporting the weight and she granted him the time he needed, waiting in silence until his eyes fluttered open again. Wordlessly, she reached behind her, producing a glass filled with what looked like water.

"Aspirin?"

His question was answered with a nod and he managed a thanks before downing the liquid almost eagerly.

"The last time I felt this… bad was…" He stopped, looking up at her, causing her to lower her mug of tea. "I can't even remember."

With a small moan, he glared into the glass then walked the couple of steps to the sink, placing it inside.

"I was still in the marines." He turned back around, his eyes meeting hers but soon were drawn to where the soft color decorated her skin. Most of it was hidden in the shadows of the robe yet there was enough for him to stare at.

"I'm sure Claire was amused," she remarked, obviously not the least bothered by his intense look. He lifted his gaze back up and for a moment simply held on to it.

"That was before Claire," he disclosed, not sure if he had really needed that instant to determine that.

"Figures." She smirked at him as he leaned against the counter behind him, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"How should I understand that?" he inquired, glad to find his headache starting to ease.

"The way you want it to." It was nothing short of a grin that she offered him now and he felt his lips curl into a smile, watching as she took a long sip from her tea. Her fingers were slung elegantly around the mug, her lips testing the liquid, tempting him and he forced his eyes a little higher, studying her tangled curls. She looked undeniably cute and his body had filled with a sensation of floating bubbles when her eyes finally met his again. There was no question in them but he knew there was in his. The strewn clothes in the hallway didn't leave much doubt as to what had happened, however, there was the possibility that he had crashed before anything could have come to a conclusion.

Either way, he would have loved to remember; would have loved to remember holding her, tasting her skin, touching her body that he now let his eyes wander over again. They came to a stop at the same spot at her hip and staring at it, he gave in to the nagging urge, taking a hesitant step towards her. His gaze flickered briefly back up to hers then dropped as he reached for the robe and slowly, with his fingers grazing her skin, he brushed it aside like an expensive curtain. She turned to give him a better view, the delicate and elegant antique ornament winding around her left hip to the lower back of the same side, fading into a small image.

"That's…" He quickly glanced at his arm in confirmation. "The same…" Lifting his eyes he met hers and she shifted back around. "We got the same… tattoo?" He couldn't exactly tell why but he had to swallow at the word, stating it seeming to make it more existent than he wanted it to be.

"Obviously," she replied, her own eyes moving over her hip. "Only I got mine with a little more decoration. So we know whose is whose." He let go of the robe again and her gaze met his as he ran a hand over his face, not really picking up on her joke.

"Why?" He wasn't bothered that they were identical, his analytical mind just needed to know the reason.

"Maybe we thought it was cute." There was a trace of a smile on her lips and she had clearly understood the question the way it had been meant.

"Maybe?" he repeated, frustration arising inside of him.

"You're not the only one who woke up with a hangover," she remarked, finishing her tea. "Do you think I would have ended up with – that," she gestured to her hip, "otherwise?" Her look was that of challenging skepticism and several thoughts jumped through his mind yet he wasn't entirely sure which of those was accurate.

"Right now, I don't really know what I would be thinking." His voice was apologetic. "Generally."

She offered him a sympathetic smile and silence settled between them but only for a short moment.

"I'm sorry, do you want some coffee?" She had set her own mug back down, apparently having realized that she hadn't offered him anything other than the aspirin.

"If you suggest tea, I'll take it."

The surprise showing on her features was that of sheer stun and had his mind been able to function normally he would have shot the proper response at her. Now though the astonishment was replaced by comprehension too quickly for him to react and he had to be satisfied with the understanding that the thought of the bitter taste of coffee seemed to have made her stomach as wobbly as it made his.

She turned and he leaned against the counter next to her, studying her bare legs while she grabbed a mug out of the cabinet, filling it with water before placing it in the microwave. Something about those numbers counting steadily backwards was oddly soothing and he stared at them, all of a sudden standing up straight.

"What time is it?" he wanted to know, searching for a clock.

"You're covered." She had retrieved the mug and turned around. "I'm on call. We're fine."

With the tea bag now dropped into the water, she handed him the mug.

"Who's covering me?" It didn't matter and it had been a simple statement but then, at the same time, it hadn't.

"Danny." The response caused his doubts to increase and testing the hot brew he studied her.

"Why do I get the feeling that he had something to do with – the state we're in?" He had asked the question before he was sure he even wanted to know.

"Because you're a smart detective?" A spark of mischief lit up her tired eyes as she glanced up from filling her own mug with water.

"Try again." At that, she flashed him an almost seductive grin and disposing of his tea bag, he took a long sip. "Do I want to know?"

She set the microwave prior to throwing him a look over her shoulder, her eyes lingering.

"No." There was no amusement, no teasing in her voice and leaving it at that she returned her attention to the microwave.

Drinking his tea he observed her repeating the same process of taking out the mug and placing a tea bag into the hot water, each of her movements emphasized by the soft fabric of the robe. It was still untied, flowing smoothly around her and as she once more turned face him, it dawned on him how comfortable they both were.

"Adam's birthday!" The thought shot forward and she met his eyes, asking wordlessly. "We went." It was a statement even though he wasn't entirely sure.

"We were invited," she reminded him.

"Which I thought was inappropriate," he recalled, looking at her intensely. "You talked me into it."

A quick grin spread across her face.

"That was the day before yesterday," she pointed out, blowing at her tea. "And it meant a lot to him."

"So you said," he nodded and she leaned around him to discard of her tea bag, her arm casually brushing his stomach. "When you tricked me into going."

Her eyes shot up.

"I didn't trick you," she defended herself, a sly smile crossing her features. "Maybe a little," she admitted. "Though, I would think, I simply convinced you that there was no harm in showing up."

"Because it meant a lot to him," he repeated.

"Exactly." She beamed like a child in a candy store and he felt the urge to laugh but didn't, a simple smile appearing on his face while they each took a sip from their tea.

"I still ended up going alone." The words were dragged out as he vaguely remembered entering Adam's apartment by himself.

"I had a meeting with the DA." She was unimpressed by the accusatory look he offered. "I told you I'd be late."

"Apparently though not before I got there or I would have waited for you," he stated. It was one thing he would always be sure of, no matter how many blackouts he had.

"You didn't mind when I got there." Her comment was accompanied by another sly smile.

"Those people were half my age." His voice was full of disbelief. "And friends of Adam." That alone probably qualified as a guarantee for discomfort.

"You were engaged in a lively conversation with a very attractive brunette," Stella revealed, his incredulity increasing before he felt the heat of embarrassment crawling through his body.

"I was drunk," he remembered, almost relieved.

"Obviously," she blurted out and he threw her a mocking glare. He wasn't sure if she was referring to the flirting or the state he was in now, figuring that she probably meant both.

Finishing his tea, he stared into the empty mug, declining Stella's inquiry of a refill but putting it on the counter behind him just in case.

"How does Danny tie into this?" he recalled.

"I thought you didn't want to know." Her eyes twinkled and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

"If you want to be that smart, Stella Bonasera, you were the one saying I didn't want to know." His words were full of challenge and setting her mug down next to his, she shot him a reproachful glance.

"I was acting in your best interest," she countered, throwing the challenge right back at him.

"I'd like to verify that."

"You're doubting me?" Her brows rose and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, the fabric floating around her before enveloping her body gracefully again.

"Would I ever?" His flirtatious yet serious response made her smile.

"You'd better not." Her arms relaxed and for an instant they both were silent.

"So," he cut through the stillness, "Danny…"

"… called me and apologized."

"Apologized for what?" he urged her to go on, certainly not surprised that he had called Stella instead of him.

"Take an educated guess," she shrugged, "I'm sure – with the state we both woke up in – you'll come to the same conclusion as me."

Yes, they had been drunk far beyond the legal – and surely healthy – limit, he had recognized that and since neither he nor Stella could have been forced to drink there weren't a lot of possibilities. They could have mixed their drinks or added to them…

"He apologized but didn't say for what?" It all seemed to confusing to further think about by himself. "And you didn't ask?"

"He spoke to my voicemail," she explained. "It's amazing enough that I even understood the message."

Her statement prompted a smile to cross his features yet at her warning glare he opted not to ask whether that was because of her or Danny.

"What did he say?" he therefore only inquired.

"That he and Flack already had "a few" and didn't mean any harm. They thought it would be fun but they didn't – and I quote – expect you to go "overboard" so quickly."

He couldn't tell whether she was amused or not; he didn't exactly know what he was either, but he was definite that it wasn't pleased.

"And they'd thought I would last longer, too," she grumbled and despite the new threat her eyes shot into his direction, he smirked. A second later a crumbled ball of the paper the tea bag had been wrapped in hit his chest.

"I'm sure it was meant as a compliment," he quickly assured, withstanding her thorough gaze with ease.

"I'm not," she stated matter-of-factly. "But either way, Danny's covering your double shift, as hung-over as he is – voluntarily."

"I'm sure he'll also gladly take over all the unpopular tasks for the next months," Mac determined, his voice as factual as hers. "Voluntarily, of course."

She grinned and reached for another tea bag paper, forming it into a little ball.

"At least he had the decency to call and apologize." The paper ball flew into his direction, bouncing off his hand that had shot up and hitting her cheek. "Hey!" she complained. As indifferent as he was able to pretend he was, he watched her pick it up, throwing the paper ball again before she fully stood, missing him by huge distance.

He didn't comment though and let the mood settle, his mind going over their conversation.

"Unfortunately, his apology isn't helping with the consequences," he frowned. "Or making this go away," he added, raising his arm to indicate the tattoo.

Her eyes dropped and after a moment, so did his, inspecting the ancient looking image. It was Greek, there was no doubt about it; he would have known even if Stella hadn't had the very characteristic decoration. However, he had no idea what the lettering meant and right now, he was too afraid to ask.

"You could always have it removed," her gentle voice suggested and he lifted his eyes, locking them with hers.

"I could…" he mumbled, lowering his gaze again. Sure, he could but it felt odd, wrong to simply consider it. "I suppose I can live with it though." He brought his back up, a flicker of surprise visible in hers. "It's small and easy to hide."

"Quite the contrary to mine," she murmured, rather to herself than to him yet his eyes were instantly drawn to her hip. It was elaborate, there was no doubt about it; expressive, all the while being subtle and so much like her. The desire to touch those delicate lines surged through him; to trace them with his fingertips, caress the irritated skin and for a moment he contemplated giving in but instead he let his eyes meet hers once more.

"It's still hidden from view," he pointed out.

"But it's not small," she countered, studying it herself now. "It might show if a shirt rides up." Her gaze went back to his, almost helpless. "You should have stopped me, you know." Her voice was reproachful, however, the spark in her eyes revealed that she wasn't serious.

"Would I have done that before or after I wasn't alert enough to stop myself?" he inquired amused.

"Depends on whoever got it first," she smirked and he found that to be infectious.

"Maybe we got it together," he suggested meaningfully, a strange but pleasant sensation spreading through him at the idea.

"Maybe," she repeated. The grin had faded from her face and her voice was rather pensive, silence falling between them while they both pursued their own thoughts.

"How come you didn't have one before?" her soft question cut through the stillness, their looks reconnecting. "Having been in the marines…" Sheer curiosity shone through the words that were as warm as the faint smile which was settled on her face.

"I didn't see the point," he shrugged, glancing at his arm. "I still don't," he added, looking back up, sure that a shadow of disappointment rushed through her eyes. "I always thought and think that it doesn't make me any tougher or braver…" He paused, studying her attentive gaze. "I considered being a marine an honor. A tattoo didn't quite fit with my beliefs – and it doesn't fit with me either."

"Apparently you were of a different opinion last night." A sheepish grin spread across her face but soon vanished as her eyes dropped to his arm.

She reached out, her fingertip gliding over the inked skin leaving a trail of warmth.

"It's not so bad," she assured him, withdrawing her hand then her eyes flickered coquettishly. "It adds to your mystery."

The expression he rewarded her with was full of doubt.

"Do you know something I don't?" he asked, causing a load of mischief to return to her gaze.

"I know what it means." She flashed him another grin, the teasing, however, had disappeared from her eyes. Instead they shimmered with affection, wrapping him in a tender embrace and the question he had been about to voice melted on his lips. He would inquire about the exact meaning later, maybe tonight or tomorrow when he felt more capable of actually absorbing anything of a deeper significance. For now, her eyes had told him everything of importance; everything he needed and wanted to know.

"What about you?" The focus returned to his eyes, lingering on her and despite his efforts, his heart began to beat faster as he waited for her to respond. While she had disclosed – mutely – that it was about them; their extraordinary relationship only seconds ago, she still could and had the right to be bothered by it. As much as something inside of him hoped she would keep it, he would understand if she didn't want to, yet she only offered him a look of puzzlement.

"Are you going to have it removed?" His voice was calm but his heart was hammering in his chest.

"I didn't go through all that trouble just to have it removed." Her response was determined and as if it should have been obvious in the first place.

"You don't remember going through any of the trouble," he reminded her, his body filling with a strange relief.

"That's just semantics," she grinned. "I still went through it and it still hurts," she added, drawing for sympathy and causing him to frown.

"Then that's part of the trouble you went through," he echoed her words, showing none of the compassion she had aimed for. Instead the teasing was already overshadowed by the thoughts his mind was drifting to and he barely noticed the third and last paper ball flying at him.

"The question is what other trouble you – we – went through last night." His heart remained oddly calm as he held her eyes, anxious for her to reply to something he was bizarrely sure of the answer.

"You woke up naked, right?" All amusement had faded from her face, her features though were still soft and he nodded. "So did I," she informed him, her gaze remaining on his. There was no sarcasm in her voice, no anger, just a slight hint of teasing. "There's a trail of clothing in the hallway – so… what does your brilliant mind tell you we went through?"

"The hallway," he blurted out, prompting her to stare at him completely bewildered and at an actual loss for words. "Sorry," he mumbled as her lips started to curl into a smile. "So, we… did sleep with each other?" he made sure before she had a chance to say something.

"Yes." It was a simple answer, the one he had expected yet that nevertheless now left him without a proper response. Apologizing seemed inappropriate and in those green eyes which were locked with his was no trace of regret. Just openness, trust and love.

"Do you… know or assume?" His question was almost careful.

"I know some of it and assume the rest." There was a hint of mystery glowing in her gaze and for a second he felt drawn to it like a moth to light before he nodded.

He still wasn't sure of what to say or do next though, so he simply kept his eyes connected with hers. An encouraging and easy smile formed on her lips and slowly he returned it.

"At least we remembered to buy condoms," he attempted to joke and she had the graciousness to be amused.

"I don't think we chose those for protection." Her words seemed meaningful and he wondered if his remark had indeed delighted her but for a motive he was about to learn. "You saw them, didn't you?" Her gaze was almost scrutinizing and he nodded, recalling the black package he had discovered on the sideboard with those letters which so colorfully promised a different taste each time…

"God, Stella," he groaned, an unfamiliar sensation of embarrassment rushing through his body. "We really must have been drunk."

"I thought we'd agreed on that," she commented, her brows raised and he grinned when something else crossed his mind.

"If we didn't use those condoms…" This time his heartbeat climbed again and even though she was quick to shake her head, it still took too long.

"I'm on birth control," she reassured him and he felt himself exhale in relief. "Otherwise someone would have been in more than just trouble," she growled.

"They could argue that it was due to our own actions," he mused and once more her arms were crossed in front of her.

"Actions we would have been a lot more considerate with without their help," she shot back.

"That we certainly proved over the last few years," he retorted and a quick grin appeared on her face but just as quickly forced it away.

"Whose side are you on?" she challenged and now it was him who offered her a grin.

"I don't remember," he replied playfully, his voice full of innocence. "But I would assume I wasn't on either but on top." He caught her off guard for the second time, however, she recovered a lot faster.

"What makes you think that?" She smirked and so did he, their eyes silently continuing their lighthearted banter.

"Did we at least make it to the bedroom?" The words were out of his mouth faster than he had intended and he had to fight a twinge of insecurity which threatened to overcome him. "The first time, I mean," he added with a hint of nervousness. "If you know…" He held her eyes, the uneasiness slowly being replaced by the hilarity of that absurd conversation they were having.

"The bedroom, yes," she nodded. "The bed, no."

The surprise her answer caused, he was unable to hide, the idea that he had had sex with her outside the bed somehow peculiarly yet intriguing. After all, he couldn't remember the last time he had had intercourse elsewhere than a bed – or the sofa on a rare occasion – and it was likely that that went even further back than the last time he had been as drunk.

"Not that I spent much thought on it – but I hadn't expected that either," she admitted, a spark of lust twinkling in her eyes. "Honestly, I hadn't expected a lot of what… happened." She smiled slyly.

"So, I assume, I… performed?"

"I'm not complaining." Her smile widened into a smirk and a sensation of boyish pride filled his body, her facial expression soon mirrored by him. They spent another moment grinning at each other, meaningfully, comfortably, a few random images flashing up in front of his eyes; sensations, smells, sounds. Of her hot skin pressed against his, of her excited body, of her erotic voice in his ear.

Halting his thoughts in realization, he looked at her.

"Why did you want to have memories?" he inquired softly and this time it was her whose gaze swam with confusion. "That's what you… purred… slurred… into my ear. That you wanted memories. Memories for what?" He searched her eyes almost piercingly, suddenly afraid of what could be her answer yet all it consisted of was a shrug.

"I don't remember that," she offered apologetically, letting his eyes search the depth of hers.

"I'm sure you have a pretty good idea though," he stated quietly, lifting his hand and brushing one of the many curls that had come lose, out of her face before resting his palm on her cheek.
She shrugged again, lighter this time, as she studied him in consideration, obviously looking for the words which would best describe what was on her mind.

"Just… memories, Mac," she finally confessed slowly. "Of you and me. Here. In case…" She paused, her hand finding his and covering it. "In case it doesn't happen again." Her words were spoken with a rare vulnerability but they were exactly what he had hoped to hear. At least the sense was exactly what he had hoped for; the verbal confirmation he had needed to erase any concerns that something between them could have – despite the impression – changed for the worse.

"So you want it to happen again?" His voice was caring and affectionate, his other arm slipping around her waist, pulling her in front of his body. Her warm skin on his sent a pleasant tingle through him and he let his hand slide from her cheek so he could wrap her in a firm embrace.

"Yes," she stated positively, both her hands settling on his chest.

"All of it?"

The ghost of a smile crept over her face as her hands snaked up to his shoulders and around his neck.

"Yes," she replied as confidently, trailing her fingernails over his back and leaving him with an anticipating shiver.

"Good," he smiled, his lips grazing hers. "Because I have an entire night to catch up on."

Her grin lasted only for an instant before his mouth devoured hers and she willingly returned his eager exploration, emotions of familiarity, exhilaration, desire, love, all surging through him. A sense of déjà-vu captured him as he felt her body press against his, her tender breasts a contrast to her toned muscles and he pulled her even closer. Just as last night, a soft moan escaped her lips at the fierce contact and she left him in control, melting into his arms like her mouth melted into his. He took advantage of that, of her, her lips, greedily, wanting everything, wanting her and determined he pulled away. Her breathing was as labored as his, thick with anticipation and in a swift motion he clasped her hand, sweeping her out of the kitchen. She followed willingly, her arms snaking around his waist as they reached the hallway, her lips leaving a trail of moist kisses on his back until he turned. His mouth was back on hers in an instant and with his arms securely wrapped around her, she pushed him backwards when something caught his eye. He reached out, snatching the black package from the sideboard and it took only a second for the surprise in her gaze to be replaced with pure pleasure and lust. Her robe was soon added to the existing trail of clothing and a moment later they pushed into the bedroom, the door swinging open as they tumbled onto the bed, sinking into an ocean of desire.