When he wakes his head throbs. In fact his head doesn't just throb, it feels like there's a woodpecker doing a pretty fine job, hammering away mercilessly.

Tock-tock-tock-tock-tock-tock-tock. TOCK-TOCK-TOCK-TOCK-TOCK.

„The hell," he groans, throwing his left arm across the upper half of his face to shield his eyes from the morning light that feels way too intrusive. The pieces fall into place within seconds although his brain feels too slow to catch up entirely. All he knows is that he has a hangover from hell.

„Morning." The voice is too shipper for Tom's liking and a few memories attack him at once. Party. Beer. Running Charades.

Running Charades. Instantly his brain sends signals of pain and his toe hurts. Well, everything hurts.

„What've I done?" His own voice is deep and rough, nothing like Olivia's seemingly amused sing-song.

„Told you to stick to beer and not start with the wine," she chuckles softly, rubbing his chest lovingly. „I've made you breakfast. Toast and eggs with an aspirin for a side. How's that sound?"

Aspirin sounds pretty damned good to him. Tom wonders if it will do if he opens his mouth so Olivia can put the pill on his tongue and pour some water on top. Instead he slowly moves his arm and opens his eyes briefly, then blinks away until he gets used to the brightness of day.

„Hey there," Olivia greets and watches his eyelids flutter. „You look like hell." She is torn between feeling sorry and complacent, she had warned him time and time again after all. After his switch from Budweiser to Riesling she had seen the hangover coming from miles away.

„I feel like it," he mumbles.

„You smell even worse."

„Hmph."

„You're half brewery and half catamount." She wishes she could say she is kidding but the room has a terrible stench that makes her want to tear open the window. When Olivia had woken a couple of hours ago she had taken her heels, closed the door and not gone in since. Well, at least until she had heard a string of almost inaudible moans and groans filter through the door and decided to go in and be chipper and pushy.

„That's offensive," Tom manages as he tries to make his body comply, sitting up on the futon that Olivia hates.

„The smell in this room is offensive. Come on, get up. Shower, eat. You'll feel better." If he didn't have a headache strong enough to make his head feel like it is going to explode he'd laugh and tease her that she sounded exactly like his mother. He remembers his and Rebecca's first major hangover at age seventeen after a night of underage drinking and cheap liquor that they and their friends had stolen from their parents liquor cabinets hoping the adults would never be any wiser. Although pissed, his mother had still been talking to him firmly but also compassionately. He figures the comparison won't appeal to Olivia much. He keeps his mouth shut.

„I'll be up. Just… give me a minute."

„I'll open the window."

„A minute." It's a plea because she's already walking towards the window.

„I won't make it through another minute, Tom." She's already over and opens the bedroom window, sucking in a long breath of fresh, cool morning air as it hits her face like a brick wall of what might as well be heaven. Finally.

The temperature of the room cools down considerably within seconds, leaving Tom to shiver. His chest is bare and the pair of tight boxers isn't offering any warmth. Instinctively he reaches for the blanket but realizes he must have slept without as he is lying on top of it.

A few more memories come back to him. How his state of drunk has gotten worse as they got off the subway. How they somehow stumbled upstairs - or well, he did. Olivia had been perfectly fine on her own. How he had kissed her and clothes had fallen.

„We had drunk sex-," he states tiredly but the cold January air that now spreads in the entire room makes his reactions much quicker as he dives for a sweatshirt. He hears his girlfriend chuckle and isn't sure what's so funny.

You tried to have drunk sex." It has been nothing but a disaster. For one he had lost his ability to kiss properly that plastered. Tom's tongue had been all over the place and there had been too much saliva in all the wrong places. Olivia is pretty sure it had been pooling and dripping off her chin - no exaggeration. He had fumbled and she had lovingly tried to convince him it probably wasn't a good idea, although generally she hadn't been reluctant. She had been buzzed enough to be in the mood. Tom on the other hand had been completely wasted to the point he no longer knew what the hell he was doing and it had been a blessing when his dick hadn't complied with his mind and Olivia had been spared to be the one to turn him down because terrible sex with her otherwise great boyfriend was not on her agenda. Neither was letting him get that drunk again anytime soon.

„Ugh. Okay then… that sounds… did I fall asleep?" He honestly can't remember, too much is a blur in this jigsaw puzzle that is last night.

„Fall asleep, yeah… something like that," Olivia offers and grabs a pair of sweatpants from the dresser, holding it out to him with a smile.

„I feel like shit."

„You should," she laughs and sees him flinch at the noise she makes. „Do these nights always end like this?"

„Hell no," he says. „I don't know… just had a really good time I guess. I didn't think I'd be this hungover." Tom slips into the dark blue sweats and makes his way towards the living room. He spots a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast as well as aspirin and a glass of water on his coffee table. It looks and smells like the best thing ever. „You're a Godsend, Olivia."

„Shower first. Please. Otherwise I have to change my mind about staying."

„That bad, huh?"

„As I said - half brewery, half catamount. And I'm not even kidding." Her face is dead serious and he looks back at her sheepishly.

„Sorry," he offers candidly before he chugs the pain killer with plenty of water and darts off towards the bedroom.

The shower is nothing short of reviving, making Tom spend a good fifteen minutes under the spray of hot water before he even attempts to wash his hair. The easy drum of water hitting the shower stall drones like a calming song. More and more memories resurface and set a scene for Tom. Somehow he has a feeling that he has fully embarrassed himself in front of Olivia last night. About his friends he doesn't care, most of the people that had been there last night had seen him drunk at some point in the past. But Olivia? There had been no need for her to see that side of him anytime soon. At least he hadn't been a complete ass, otherwise she surely would have gone home by now. But his drunk ass hadn't painted a pretty picture. For one he had teased her mercilessly for not picking him for her team, had held it over her head pretty much the rest of the night that he had won and had told her so from the start, too. Arrogance didn't look good on anybody. The whole thing could only be topped by his lame attempt to seduce her. The operating words being lame and attempt. Yes, alcohol had always made Tom somewhat horny but Jesus, he had barely made it up his staircase on his own, what on earth had given him the idea he'd be able to get it up and the job done? Not that sleeping with Olivia is anything like a job. Hell, no. It would only serve him right if Olivia teased him about all that today, point out how much of an idiot he had been last night.

What bothers him most however is that he is not that kind of guy. The one who gets drunk - maybe because he's having a little too much fun, maybe because deep down he's nervous because his girlfriend of six months finally meets a few close friends of his. He is not that guy and he does not want Olivia to think he is. He enjoys a drink or two as much as the regular person, as much as Olivia even who usually has a glass of something when they go out or even spend an evening on the couch. Usually wine, sometimes something stronger. But he does not usually get wasted for no good reason.

The water starts to cool off. The remnants of alcohol still burn in Tom's stomach. He hates being hungover. Seriously hates it. Like… he'd rather have a root canal. Five root canals if need be - if that would make him feel better. But the last thing he gets to do is complain in front of Olivia now. He will simply have to suck it up and deal with what he deserves as a consequence.

A two-minute treatment with the toothbrush, a tee and sweats later he's back in his living room where Olivia sits on the couch Indian style, cradling a mug of steaming coffee in both hands. The food is still untouched and thank God, because his stomach is growling at the sight of bacon and eggs. The smell of grease is in the air, making Tom's mouth water.

„Thanks for this." He plops down on the couch next to the brunette who slowly blows on her coffee.

„No problem, I figured you might be hungry. Aspirin kick in yet?"

„Hardly," he grunts and picks up his fork, digging into the soft concoction made off eggs, onion, bell peppers and mushrooms. He shoves a forkful into his mouth and leans back, picking up the plate as he chews. The eggs are taste like a piece of heaven. Cold, but his empty stomach doesn't give a damn as long as it gets filled.

Thirty minutes later the heavy hammering has turned into dull pounding - uncomfortable but doable - considering. Olivia had wanted to do the dishes but Tom hadn't let her so now they are in his too small kitchen. He still hasn't started and she tries not to be too bothered with it.

„I'm sorry about last night," he says, leaning against the counter.

„About what exactly?"

„Drinking. Well, drinking too much. Behaving like an idiot. Take your pick."

Olivia shakes her head and chuckles. He has certainly had too much to drink and there has been idiotic behavior on display. But. Olivia has seen much worse. So she got a glance at drunk Tom. It wasn't that big of a deal. In part it had even been adorable to watch it all unfold. „Don't worry about it. We've all been there."

„Yeah?"

„Hm," she nods and crosses her arms. She herself has been drunk countless times. Granted, she drinks responsibly by now but in her first years at SVU there had been cases that made her run to the next best bar and she did not stop drinking before she was perfectly numb. She isn't proud of those binges but she also knows that she wouldn't have survived the unit without them. „Been a while tho."

One should think that growing up with an alcoholic as a mother has turned Olivia Benson into a person that detests alcohol. But she never did. She loves a good drink like the next person. She has partied in the past and partied hard. She has drowned herself in liquor when relationships had ended. She has fallen deep into a bottle after particularly rough cases and her ex-partner had picked her drunk ass up at some bar in the middle of the night more times than Olivia would like to admit to anyone - even herself. In the past decade she even had her moments. Moments when she knew she should not reach for the bottle of wine in the evening or pour a second, third, even a fourth glass. Times when that inner voice had whispered about a disposition towards addiction, towards alcoholism and she had drowned the words out with one more drink. Times when even Tucker had told her to take it easy because Lord knew she used alcohol to de-stress or to reward herself. She may not be anything like her mother. She may not be an alcoholic. But Olivia's relationship with alcohol had never been the healthiest and once or twice in her life Olivia's come closer to becoming something like her mother than she should have.

„Well, I'm not going to drink again anytime soon. Not like this anyway." And certainly not when she's around to clean up after him and cater to his hungover needs. While he had been in the shower Olivia had picked up last night's clothes off of the bedroom floor, aired all rooms, put clean sheets on the bed. „You didn't have to clean up here, you know?"

„I know I didn't have to but I couldn't just sit around either," she explains. It hasn't been a big deal. She had picked up the clothes, cleaned up a little - not that it was ever particularly messy.

„Yeah, still." It makes him feel oddly embarrassed and again the comparison to his Mom is obvious to him and Olivia is not anything like his mother. Hell, he sleeps with Olivia.

With Sarah this sort of connection has never been made. Sarah usually got pissed if he had too much to drink, unless they both had gotten wasted - somehow that seemed to make all the difference for his ex. It shouldn't surprise him. Sarah and Olivia couldn't be any more different. They aren't even on the same spectrum.

„As I said - don't worry about it. It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't even much," she smiles and peels her phone out of her pocket.

„Gotta go?"

„Erm… soonish, yeah," she agrees. It is 10:30 AM when usually she leaves around nine. Lucy had offered to stay longer.

„Okay. Do I see you soon? Lunch at the diner on Monday?"

She smiles and already nods her head yes by default when her mind runs in a different direction entirely. „Think you'll be fit by tomorrow?" She is tired of playing pretend and tired of pushing him meeting Noah away into the future. They are solid. For the first time she is actually positive that a relationship has the potential to last so Tom should meet her son, they should start to do things together.

„Sure, you thinking dinner?"

„I believe you wanted to go ice-skating," she offers with a casual shrug. Olivia no longer wants it to be a big deal but something natural, something that was going to happen all along. „Think you've sobered up by then?"

The headache pounds in synch with his heartbeat this time around.

Tock-tock. Tock-tock. Tock-tock.

For all the time they have been mulling over this, even semi-fighting over it, this now comes out of the blue. Sure, they have clearly decided on New Year's that Tom would meet Olivia's son soon. That they'd only have to think of when and how and where it should happen. Between all of the baby steps this relationship has suddenly become a freaking rollercoaster. Not that Tom is bothered by it. Hell no.

He is bothered by many things. By his pounding headache that refuses to go away. By the fact that he has gotten drunk to start with. It bothers him that from time to time he still thinks of Sarah, that he compares Olivia to Sarah - to the woman who in hindsight had so many shortcomings that have made their relationship more complicated. He sees now that it wasn't just the not fucking they had done and the fucking she had done with that other guy that had been the biggest issue. Maybe they had been too alike, maybe they had been too different.

It bothers him that because of what he shares with Olivia, everything he sees in Olivia and finds within himself since he's been with Olivia, everything he ever had with Sarah looks tainted. Feels wrong. Even what he considered the good times. The crazy feeling of a first real love. Being attached by hip and the heart. Too much sex in too many places. When it had been good it had been great. But it had cooled off much quicker than he had ever realized until now. And maybe - maybe if he hadn't fought that hard, they would have fallen apart after a short whirlwind romance. Instead he had held on for dear life and Sarah had eventually screwed him over and screwed him out of what he once believed was cloud nine.

Tock-tock.

„Yeah. Yeah, I'll be sobered up by then for sure. You sure?"

„Do I look unsure?" Granted, she would feel a little insecure about it until the moment Noah and Tom finally meet and then some but all in all she feels good about it. Noah likes his teacher and Tom likes Noah. What could possibly go wrong?

„So tomorrow?"

„Tomorrow. After lunch?"

„Or we could do lunch together? Go for pizza or spaghetti?"

„Make it McDonald's and Noah'll be a fan," she teases. She herself hates McDonald's but what was she to do? Her child loves himself a Happy Meal from time to time. And from time to time Olivia allows herself to be an over-worked parent who stops by the closest fast-food restaurant for crappy food and a milkshake to go.

„McDonald's it is. Do I pick you up?" Olivia considers this but the truth is, she has no idea yet how to bring meeting Tom up with her son. The idea of simply meeting him at the restaurant and taking it from there is more appealing.

„We could meet there. Make it seem like an unplanned meeting, see how it all goes in an extracurricular setting." There is little confidence in her suggestion and Tom smiles and steps closers, rubbing his thumb over her hipbone.

„You're scared shitless of telling him about us, aren't you?" His voice is still more gruff than usual from his alcohol binge but he is clearly teasing her.

„It's a first," she shrugs, disarmed. Yes, it is scary to think Noah might not be fond of her relationship with his teacher. He's only four - almost five - years old but her son sure is opinionated and stubborn. He could give the Stabler clan a run for their money at times. With Tucker things have been so easy. Noah had hardly been three years old at the time and one day she had simply brought Ed home and the two of them had hit it off. This time it feels all the power is in Noah's hands.

„Anything I can do to make you feel better about it? I mean, McDonald's is a mean weapon, you gotta admit."

„Yeah, but I also have a smart and observant kid."

„There's always ToysRus," he jokes.

„I wouldn't even put that past you," she laughs and lightly pushes him but then lets her fingers curl around the thin material of his sweatshirt, the fabric smooth against her skin as she pulls him closer by his shirt and attaches herself to him. Olivia places a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth and the remnants of mint toothpaste get soaked up as she inhales and tastes him.

„I wouldn't either. The end justifies the means," he chuckles against her cheek and whatever the hell leaves that beautiful scent on her is addictive as ever. Its downright overpowering in the morning and still lingers in the dead of night.

„I gotta go. You should maybe sleep that hangover off." She rubs her finger over his chin and moves in for another kiss. „You got some more aspirin or tylenol somewhere?" There might be some in the mirror cabinet in the bathroom where he kept his razor, band-aid, condoms and whatnot.

„I think so but I shall be alright. Waking up was the hardest part. I'm good now."

„Then you're a lucky bastard," she grins.

He can't argue with that. He is in fact a very lucky bastard for various reasons and they have nothing to do with his hangover.