She Only Smokes When She Drinks

Summary: Stella only smokes when she drinks, she only drinks now and then, now and then when she's tired of being let down by men. Post All Access.

A/N: Jenna has been harassing me for some Smacked. This was inspired by She Only Smokes When Drinks by Joe Nichols.

Dedication: To mah Jennaboo. I lurb her.

Disclaimer: I own them not.

The phone had woke him up at a quarter til three in the morning. Drunk was an understatement and his number was the only one she remembered when she got that wasted. The bartender told him that she'd drunk a few guys under the table and made her way through a partial pack of Lucky Strikes.

The bar isn't one of their usuals. It's smoke filled and seedy. His eyes burn when he enters and he sees her. She's sitting at the bar, nursing a once whiskey on the rocks, but now it's mainly whiskey and water. The ashtray in front of her is full of used butts and her eyes are puffy and swollen.

"Maaaac!" She slurs.

"Stella." He chuckles and sits on the stool next to hers, "What are you doing?"

"Drinking." Stella chuckles.

"Well, anymore of that and Jack Daniels better be buying you a wedding ring." Mac moved the tumbler away from her.

"Mac!" Stella whined and her lower lip snuck out.

"Stella, what's going on?" Mac asked, even though he knew. It'd been three weeks; the cuts and bruises were healed and fading, but the wounds on her heart were still wide open.

Stella didn't answer, she pulled another Lucky Strike out of the crumpled pack and lit it. She sniffled and her hands were shaking when she finally found her words, "I killed him. I had to." She shook her head, "What is it about me? Do I emit a beacon that only dogs and severely emotionally messed up men can hear?"

"C'mon, let's get you home." Mac pulled out his wallet and paid her tab.

Hooking his arm around Stella's waist and wrapping her left arm around his shoulder, he helped her out of the bar. The cool night air appeared to have a sobering affect. She dropped her cigarette and stamped it out with the toe of her boot.

"Mac?"

"Yeah, Stell?" Mac held on tighter, afraid she'd fall over.

"I don't want to go home." Stella whispered and rested her mess of curls against his shoulder.

"Okay." Mac nodded.

He hailed a cab and helped her in. Mac slid in beside her and rattled off his address. Stella leaned against his side, sliding her hand into his. Mac traced his thumb slowly over her wrist. He knew it was her need for connection; after bad cases or crappy days it happened.

He doesn't know when it happened; the day he started wanting more from Stella Bonasera, more from his partner, more from his best friend. Maybe there wasn't a specific day, it just slowly progressed over the nearly twenty years they've known one another.

"Mac." Stella leaned against his shoulder.

"Yeah?" Mac wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her back.

"Thanks for coming to get me."

"You know I always will." Mac reassured her.

"I've messed up a lot." Stella sniffled.

"It's okay. We all do sometimes."

"Yeah... I guess. Why do you always clean up my messes?" She wondered.

"Because you always clean up mine." Mac replied simply.

"I love you." Stella murmured.

Mac smiled.

She only smokes when she drinks, she only drinks now and then, now and then when she's tired of being let down by men. Then she calls her best friend and he comes to pick her up and put the pieces back together, subsequently restoring her faith in men. They'd pretend not to be falling for each other and the loop would continue. But without a shadow of a doubt, they'd always put each other back together.

A/N: Short? Yes. Favorite thing I've written in awhile? also yes.