When he blearily opens his eyes, the morning light stabs into his brain like a sword. Lifting a hand to his forehead in a futile effort to drive off the pain in his head, he is unsure where he is for a moment, until his gaze falls on the young, very naked woman underneath the blanket next to him.

Realizing that he is in a similar state of undress, Simon Blackquill groans. Damn it all to hell.

He cannot believe that this happened. He should have never accepted Athena's invitation to move on to a bar "for a few drinks" after the Wright Agency's customary victory celebration at Eldoon's Noodles, even though she insisted. After everything that's happened to us today, we deserve it, my treat, she said. Shortly thereafter, his memory started to blur. And now…

Cykes-sensei would murder me for touching her daughter is the first thing that comes to Simon's sluggish mind. Drunkenness is hardly a sufficient excuse; in fact, thinking of it only makes things worse. She isn't even legal to drink yet. That realization drives home their difference in age, making him cringe.

He should have been the responsible one; instead, he spent his first night out of jail getting blotto, and presumably having sex, with a girl he first met when she was eleven. Eleven, for fuck's sake! Granted, she is now old enough to where his massive error in judgment at least does not amount to statutory rape in the legal sense, but his memories still insist on painting her as the child he vowed to protect, leaving him with a queasy feeling in his stomach that does not only result from his hangover.

How am I going to look at myself in the mirror after this?

This already disquieting thought is quickly followed by another.

How many of her acquaintances saw me being untoward with her before we left the bar?

He does not recall leaving the establishment, but vaguely remembers that Justice and her employer were there in the beginning, and that others joined before his memory suffered from a brown-out. Already imagining the rumor mill spreading stories about him having taken the fall for her for nefarious motives, he would almost prefer facing the executioner today to the current situation.

When Athena finds her way to something resembling wakefulness, she immediately wishes she had not. Her tongue feels dry and heavy in her mouth, and her head seems to be caught in a too-tight band of heated metal. She clenches her eyes shut as the tiniest movement unsettles her stomach, only to slowly realize that she is hearing another heartbeat, another breathing pattern next to her in bed.

Forcing herself to open her eyes again, she immediately sees that she is not wearing her pajamas, and when her gaze falls on the person whose presence she sensed, she is mortified.

Oh. Oh god. We didn't…?

Unfortunately, there is no way she can convince herself of the opposite; not only is he in her bed, her habit of hogging the blanket has exposed his side (though thankfully not his groin), showing her that he is not wearing anything, either.

Athena has always prided herself on never losing control when drinking alcohol, but in light of everything that happened yesterday, it was apparently too much to ask for last night.

Back during her childhood, Simon was a much-needed friend, something like an older brother to her. When she finally came face to face with him again in court eight months ago, they had been almost complete strangers to each other, drifted apart after seven years of secrets, lies, and trauma. And now, she has probably ruined every chance at bridging this gap and restoring their prior friendship by getting them both falling-down drunk and doing that with him. Not remembering anything only makes the situation more embarrassing.

Heck, we didn't even talk all that much last night, and our meetings at court were not exactly filled with friendly conversations…he must think the worst of me for jumping him the moment he got out of his shackles.

Athena wishes she could just pull the blanket over her head and wish this morning into oblivion. However, even in her current state, she knows that that is not an option.

Instead, she decides to face up to her mistake, hoping beyond hope that he does at least not hate her now.

"Um… hi."

Athena's voice is hoarse and hesitant when it reaches Simon's ears. When he turns toward her, he does so a little too fast, the renewed pain pounding away behind his forehead making him wince.

She looks to be as devastated by hangover as he feels, complexion sallow, eyes reddened. Her expression can only be described as apprehensive.

Carefully holding the blanket against her chest to avoid exposing herself, she quietly says, "I… I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Simon closes his eyes for a moment. "That makes two of us."

Suddenly, he remembers something rather vital, and he once again directs his gaze at her, now more than a little concerned. "Tell me we at least used some sort of protection."

Athena's eyes widen "I… I don't know, I don't remember…"

She quickly turns toward the small waste basket next to the bed.

Noticing a used condom among the tissues and crumpled-up sheets of paper, she attempts to nod, only for her stomach to suddenly heave painfully.

As she contorts once more, trying to keep from vomiting, she feels Simon's hand pulling her hair out of the way, and gratefully takes hold of the lined plastic container to let go of what little her stomach contains.

When Athena is finished, she wipes her mouth with a Kleenex and once more turns to face him. "Yeah, there's a rubber in the trash. God, I'm sorry..."

Simon sighs as he closes his eyes, one hand running across his face in obvious anguish. "Not as sorry as I am for taking advantage of you."

Her lower lip begins to tremble. "I ruined everything, didn't I?"

His expression is puzzled as he looks at her once more. "If anyone managed to ruin things, it would be me. I should have known better than to drink this much."

Athena's eyes fill with tears. "I suggested drinking in the first place, and now we went and did this, and neither one of us even remembers, and who knows what Apollo and Klavier and the boss and everyone saw us doing last night before we left… argh!"

She knows in her heart of hearts that she is responsible for every bit of embarrassing behavior they might have indulged in last night, and the thought of Simon distancing himself from her over it when only just freed from the need to pretend to be a cold-blooded killer for her sake is too much to bear.

Her anxiety and her crushing headache cause her to sob quietly as warm, salty moisture begins rolling down her cheeks. Dimly, she hears Simon shift on the bed, is certain that he is about to leave, when she suddenly feels his hand once more coming to rest in her hair.

"Athena, please… calm yourself."

She looks at him, tears veiling her vision, and yet is surprised at the concern on his face, as well as the soothing tone of his voice. He has not spoken to her like that since before his conviction, and Athena immediately stills. In spite of what happened between them last night, in spite of the seven long years during which they were kept apart, in spite of his long, unkempt hair and the dark streaks under his eyes, she suddenly sees the young man she used to know looking back at her, and dares to hope that they will weather this somehow.

Carefully making sure to keep the blanket between them, she scoots a little closer and embraces him wordlessly, her cheek resting against his chest. Simon holds her without reservation, and when she has calmed down enough, Athena asks slowly, "You're not mad at me, right?"

An incredulous noise escapes his throat. "Of course not."

His heart tells her that rather, he fully blames himself.

Her voice is even smaller when she pleads, "Promise me we won't become strangers again over this."

He is quiet for a moment, and Athena pulls back to look up at him. Even though his physical misery is evident on his face, there is also the tiniest of smiles pulling at the corners of his lips as he finally answers.

"I promise."

They end up sharing some of the over-the-counter pain medication Athena keeps in her night stand, and decide to rest a little more before facing the day and whatever aftermath might await them.