For 25_Crimes 019. Chat room
Title: The Morning After
Author: The Archbishop of Canterberry
Theme/ Set: SVU: 019. Chat room
Rating: PG
Claim & Additional Pairing: Olivia Benson & Don Cragen
Warning: This is a sequel to Intoxication, now this is the morning after.
Word Count: 1581
The Ironic thing about telling yourself that you are never going to drink again, is that all you can think after making that decision, is drinking. Olivia Benson could think of nothing else except alcoholic drinks after she came to the conclusion that she should never, ever drink again. This decision came on the morning after she slept with her boss, a decision she didn’t know if she regretted or not. He hadn’t said anything to her about it at work, the only mention of the elicit act between them was a note she found the next morning on her night stand. It had ready simply I think we should keep this to ourselves. She couldn’t have agreed more, the last thing she needed was to get kicked out of the squad, or someone finding out.
There was, however some comfort in the fact that he knew that it was a one time thing. He knew that it had been a mistake, a mistake both of them had made - and even though Olivia had initiated contact, he knew that he was just as responsible as she was. After she could rest secure in the fact that he would keep their secret, she allowed herself to savor the forbidden nature of their act. It was wrong on so very many levels, and knowing that thrilled her - secretly, and even when she realized how she felt about what had happened - she denied it. The last thing she needed was to fixate on that feeling and crave it more.
She was already craving a drink, anything that would make her forget about that night, anything that would make her blissfully numb like before. If she could just have another drink, she could forget about how badly she had made a fool out of herself. A few shots of vodka and a couple rounds of beer would be sufficient enough to kill of that part of her brain that held the memories pertaining to that night. It was already a little hazy in her mind, another dose of vodka would kill any lingering memories, at least that’s how she rationalized it.
That’s all she thought about while she was sitting in a church basement and slowly stirring the tea in the cup in front of her. She poked at the tea bag with the spoon and then lifted the mug to take a slow sip and pretended she was having a hot tottie. It was completely inappropriate to think about such things while waiting for her first AA meeting to start. Looking around the room, she watched the other people slowly filter into the room, shuffling their feet - eyes down cast. A few stood around the coffee table, speaking to each other as they doctored their coffees and sipped at steaming Styrofoam cups. She could already spot the regulars, the ones who looked at ease, who greeted people who just walked in, introducing themselves, or saying hello to people they had met before.
Olivia had been greeted by a woman when she walked in, a blond soccer mom who shook her hand and then gave her a hug - telling her how happy she was that Olivia had shown up. People who were that friendly, who entered her personal space as soon as they knew her name made her uneasy, and made her hold back. At work, it was different, there she was cop Olivia, she had her mask on in place, and she could withstand the uncomfortable contact and the people she had to deal with. Outside of work she was left defenseless, and so she was on edge, nodding a greeting or two and clutching at her own cup of hot tea.
She had found this place on the internet, like all great things. After searching through message boards and google searches, she had found a chat room where she watched other people from the group interacting and giving messages of support to each other. It seemed like a nice group, and far enough away from work that she doubt she would run into any other cops there. Of course after being a cop for nearly two decades she should have remembered not to assume anything, ever. Five minutes before the group was suppose to start, she looked up to see a very familiar face watching her from across the room. Her stomach turned over and she paled, nails digging into the Styrofoam that threatened to give way under the pressure. He jerked his head to motion for her to follow him outside, obediently she got up and walked toward the door.
Don Creagan was not happy to see Olivia Benson sitting in his AA meeting, at first. Frustration gave way to surprise, and then a sort of sad understanding passed over the man. He looked at her now as if they were in his office, and not in some poorly lit hallway watching people wander in and out of the gym. When they were as alone as they were ever going to be, he spoke up. “What are you doing here?” His voice wasn’t angry, but soft and gentle - he figured this would be difficult for her. “I need help, I - I I know I do, after that night, I knew that I had a problem controlling myself.” Brown eyes locked on the floor as she stared intently at one of the cracks in the tile.
He sighed a little bit, she was obviously sorry, repentant for what had happened that night - a night he tried not to think about. It was a guilty pleasure thinking about that night, on one hand it was horribly inappropriate, he was her superior, her boss, and he should have known better. On the other hand? He bagged Olivia Benson, Detective Benson - the untouchable, and it was good. But he wasn't thinking about that now, well, not much, he was thinking about the meeting he should attend, and the woman who needed that meeting. Another soft sigh and he lightly put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing a little bit before dropping his hand to the side. "Go in, listen to what they say, but we should talk later, okay?" Olivia chewed on her bottom lip and glanced up at Cragen, she gave a brief nod and pulled away from him. She didn't know what would be harder, sitting through the meeting or talking to him afterward.
They grabbed coffee after the meeting, sitting in a harshly lit twenty-four hour dinner, in a booth with cracked vinyal upholstery - with windows fogged up with condensation that showed off the heat the kitchen generated inside. The tired looking waitress poured both of them a cup of coffee and asked if they wanted anything to eat, they both shook their head and she wandered away to take care of her other tables. Somewhere the radio played an old jazz tune that the fry chef was humming a long to, old Louie Armstrong, big horn, soft under belly. All the noise couldn't seem to penetrate the silence that surrounded the table and its two occupants.
After a number of minutes, Olivia spoke first - clearing her throat numerous times, her fingers clutching and unclutching the cup between her hands. She apologized at first, explaining her actions as best she could in halting words, her voice tight with frustration, and her cheeks pink with embarrassment. He listened in silence, allowing her to say her peace before putting in his own two cents. When she finally finished, promising that she would never make that mistake again, and that she would never tell a soul. He nodded and stirred his coffee, watching the caramel colored coffee swirl around the stem of the spoon, it clinking against the sides of the mug. He wanted to tell her that it would all be fine, that he would forget about it too, and that he would never bring it out again. He knew it wasn't the truth though, he wanted to see her again, he was tired of the same thing day after day. He had been a captain for more years then he could remember and he wasn't sure he would ever have anything more then just a C.O. position.
Maybe he was too old for her, but that didn't matter - it didn't have to be serious, just something to spice up his remaining days, something that he could look forward to at the end of the day. Maybe he was a sentimental fool but letting her pass out on his chest that night, watching her sleep and holding her - was something he had missed dearly. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but he knew they weren't appropriate, so he tightened his fingers on his coffee cup for a second and then released it. Reaching over, he squeezed her wrist and gave her a fatherly smile, doing her best not to come off as a needy, lecherous man.
"Consider it forgotten, Olivia. Water under the bridge, we all do things under the influence. I won't think of it again."
Author: The Archbishop of Canterberry
Theme/ Set: SVU: 019. Chat room
Rating: PG
Claim & Additional Pairing: Olivia Benson & Don Cragen
Warning: This is a sequel to Intoxication, now this is the morning after.
Word Count: 1581
The Ironic thing about telling yourself that you are never going to drink again, is that all you can think after making that decision, is drinking. Olivia Benson could think of nothing else except alcoholic drinks after she came to the conclusion that she should never, ever drink again. This decision came on the morning after she slept with her boss, a decision she didn’t know if she regretted or not. He hadn’t said anything to her about it at work, the only mention of the elicit act between them was a note she found the next morning on her night stand. It had ready simply I think we should keep this to ourselves. She couldn’t have agreed more, the last thing she needed was to get kicked out of the squad, or someone finding out.
There was, however some comfort in the fact that he knew that it was a one time thing. He knew that it had been a mistake, a mistake both of them had made - and even though Olivia had initiated contact, he knew that he was just as responsible as she was. After she could rest secure in the fact that he would keep their secret, she allowed herself to savor the forbidden nature of their act. It was wrong on so very many levels, and knowing that thrilled her - secretly, and even when she realized how she felt about what had happened - she denied it. The last thing she needed was to fixate on that feeling and crave it more.
She was already craving a drink, anything that would make her forget about that night, anything that would make her blissfully numb like before. If she could just have another drink, she could forget about how badly she had made a fool out of herself. A few shots of vodka and a couple rounds of beer would be sufficient enough to kill of that part of her brain that held the memories pertaining to that night. It was already a little hazy in her mind, another dose of vodka would kill any lingering memories, at least that’s how she rationalized it.
That’s all she thought about while she was sitting in a church basement and slowly stirring the tea in the cup in front of her. She poked at the tea bag with the spoon and then lifted the mug to take a slow sip and pretended she was having a hot tottie. It was completely inappropriate to think about such things while waiting for her first AA meeting to start. Looking around the room, she watched the other people slowly filter into the room, shuffling their feet - eyes down cast. A few stood around the coffee table, speaking to each other as they doctored their coffees and sipped at steaming Styrofoam cups. She could already spot the regulars, the ones who looked at ease, who greeted people who just walked in, introducing themselves, or saying hello to people they had met before.
Olivia had been greeted by a woman when she walked in, a blond soccer mom who shook her hand and then gave her a hug - telling her how happy she was that Olivia had shown up. People who were that friendly, who entered her personal space as soon as they knew her name made her uneasy, and made her hold back. At work, it was different, there she was cop Olivia, she had her mask on in place, and she could withstand the uncomfortable contact and the people she had to deal with. Outside of work she was left defenseless, and so she was on edge, nodding a greeting or two and clutching at her own cup of hot tea.
She had found this place on the internet, like all great things. After searching through message boards and google searches, she had found a chat room where she watched other people from the group interacting and giving messages of support to each other. It seemed like a nice group, and far enough away from work that she doubt she would run into any other cops there. Of course after being a cop for nearly two decades she should have remembered not to assume anything, ever. Five minutes before the group was suppose to start, she looked up to see a very familiar face watching her from across the room. Her stomach turned over and she paled, nails digging into the Styrofoam that threatened to give way under the pressure. He jerked his head to motion for her to follow him outside, obediently she got up and walked toward the door.
Don Creagan was not happy to see Olivia Benson sitting in his AA meeting, at first. Frustration gave way to surprise, and then a sort of sad understanding passed over the man. He looked at her now as if they were in his office, and not in some poorly lit hallway watching people wander in and out of the gym. When they were as alone as they were ever going to be, he spoke up. “What are you doing here?” His voice wasn’t angry, but soft and gentle - he figured this would be difficult for her. “I need help, I - I I know I do, after that night, I knew that I had a problem controlling myself.” Brown eyes locked on the floor as she stared intently at one of the cracks in the tile.
He sighed a little bit, she was obviously sorry, repentant for what had happened that night - a night he tried not to think about. It was a guilty pleasure thinking about that night, on one hand it was horribly inappropriate, he was her superior, her boss, and he should have known better. On the other hand? He bagged Olivia Benson, Detective Benson - the untouchable, and it was good. But he wasn't thinking about that now, well, not much, he was thinking about the meeting he should attend, and the woman who needed that meeting. Another soft sigh and he lightly put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing a little bit before dropping his hand to the side. "Go in, listen to what they say, but we should talk later, okay?" Olivia chewed on her bottom lip and glanced up at Cragen, she gave a brief nod and pulled away from him. She didn't know what would be harder, sitting through the meeting or talking to him afterward.
They grabbed coffee after the meeting, sitting in a harshly lit twenty-four hour dinner, in a booth with cracked vinyal upholstery - with windows fogged up with condensation that showed off the heat the kitchen generated inside. The tired looking waitress poured both of them a cup of coffee and asked if they wanted anything to eat, they both shook their head and she wandered away to take care of her other tables. Somewhere the radio played an old jazz tune that the fry chef was humming a long to, old Louie Armstrong, big horn, soft under belly. All the noise couldn't seem to penetrate the silence that surrounded the table and its two occupants.
After a number of minutes, Olivia spoke first - clearing her throat numerous times, her fingers clutching and unclutching the cup between her hands. She apologized at first, explaining her actions as best she could in halting words, her voice tight with frustration, and her cheeks pink with embarrassment. He listened in silence, allowing her to say her peace before putting in his own two cents. When she finally finished, promising that she would never make that mistake again, and that she would never tell a soul. He nodded and stirred his coffee, watching the caramel colored coffee swirl around the stem of the spoon, it clinking against the sides of the mug. He wanted to tell her that it would all be fine, that he would forget about it too, and that he would never bring it out again. He knew it wasn't the truth though, he wanted to see her again, he was tired of the same thing day after day. He had been a captain for more years then he could remember and he wasn't sure he would ever have anything more then just a C.O. position.
Maybe he was too old for her, but that didn't matter - it didn't have to be serious, just something to spice up his remaining days, something that he could look forward to at the end of the day. Maybe he was a sentimental fool but letting her pass out on his chest that night, watching her sleep and holding her - was something he had missed dearly. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but he knew they weren't appropriate, so he tightened his fingers on his coffee cup for a second and then released it. Reaching over, he squeezed her wrist and gave her a fatherly smile, doing her best not to come off as a needy, lecherous man.
"Consider it forgotten, Olivia. Water under the bridge, we all do things under the influence. I won't think of it again."