Disclaimer: All rights belong to Wolf Films.

Author's Note: A belated birthday pressie for Trinity. Here's my first stab at SVU Munch and my jab at the SVU writing staff. Hope you all enjoy it.

Timeline: Post "Avatar."


A lanky gent in black marched into a private office, toting two mugs. "Ah, my favorite time of day: drinking piss-poor coffee with you and awaiting for the caffeine to drive me to an early grave."

The seated occupant, a stocky, mature man, was endorsing documents. "You don't look like the tea-and-crumpet type, John."

The visitor plopped onto a nearby chair, the two opposite each other. "Captain, I respect the British culture, but a man can't sustain himself on tea and crumpets alone."

"It's past 5:00 and it's time for my official break, so can we dispense with the usual formalities?"

John sited a cup onto the captain's wooden desk. "Sorry…, Don. I'm still getting used to being part of the ruling class."

"You know, Sergeant, if you have a problem with that, you could always become a detective again."

He fidgeted, imbibing his drink. "I would, except I'm starting to get attached to my fabulously upgraded salary."

"Had to give it a shot." Don sipped the refreshment. "And you're right — this is piss-poor coffee."

"I blame particles from the asbestos testing we had done a few years ago."

"You're evading my question."

John veered away. "Okay, fine, I do miss the big action, but it's not like I can tell the new pretty boy to step off."

"Lack of outspokenness has never been your problem before."

"From what I can tell, Fin seems happy with the arraignment, so why break that up for him?" He peered at his diluted coffee. "God, I sound like a woman, don't I?"

"It doesn't mean your feelings are wrong — you just need to count your blessings."

He elevated an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

"How many partners have we lost combined, due to murder, premature death or otherwise?"

John's pupils widened within his dark sunglasses. "You ought to be a shyster with that unassailable logic of yours."

Don rubbed the back of his bald head. "Legalese pisses me off too much."

"My side hobby was journalism, so you could have one, too. Hard to believe that was a long time ago."

"A lot has changed since then." His brow was knitted.

"Maybe a little too much. One year, we were a tightly knit group, and, in the next, Elliot and Olivia become cowboys, Fin gets a new partner and New York City will forever see me as the man whom accidentally released the homicidal version of Sybil."

"Considering what happened with you, I'm impressed you got away with your hide in tact."

"Oh, you get a woman a tissue, and she ends up threatening Elliot's wife. I swear Murphy's Law had its origins around here." John motioned his hand about.

"You worry too much on the possible negatives." Don plucked at his red suspenders. "What are the chances that my suspenders will snap and gouge out your eyes?"

"Statistically? It would be the same as my spilling hot coffee on my crotch, which could mean the end of the Munch lineage as we know it." The sergeant splayed his legs.

He scrunched his nose. "John, with all the imagery you've put in my head over the years, my brain is going to need a bucket full of bleach for that one."

"This coffee makes a good substitute."

"Then, you better get the industrial strength."

John consumed his remaining beverage, his upper lip curled. "Maybe we all could use it — everyone's been copping an attitude, lately."

His superior followed suit, eyebrow ridge lowered. "If you want to be a tattletale, I'll get you a suggestion box."

"Don, I'm not disparaging anyone behind their backs, but let's face it — everyone is changing before us. Can you say they are the same lovable cops from yesterday?"

He sharply inhaled. "No, I can't."

"Maybe it's the water, a bizarre new form of plant life and/or some other force at work."

He sighed. "Not another conspiracy of yours."

"Fine, it's an amazing string of coincidences, and we're being shut out, either way. After noting all the recent twists and turns, I'm starting to think it's a sign from the powers that be."

"Yeah, the police commissioner and the D.A. decided to break us up."

"Have you got a better explanation?"

Don clenched his jaw. "The theory can't be all that valid if I'm still here."

"I didn't say the theory was perfect, as your gremlin-like fortitude speaks for itself."

"Nice save."

"Thanks. I think it's the change in culture — 'respecting your elders' hasn't been more defenestrated these days."

He stroked his chin. "You might be right."

"If there is any benefit of being old, please, inform me, because I'm just not seeing it." John flicked at his short, graying locks.

"Yeah, you learn not to be a wiseass or make stupid mistakes."

"Then, I better make use of my natural gifts while I still have them." He arose. "Thanks, Don, for our daily coffee chat."

"No problem. And, John?"


"I'll see what I can do with Fin."

John straightened his posture, smiling. "Don't worry about it. As always, time with you is time well spent."

Don inclined forward, returning the expression. "I'll, uh, try to requisite a new coffee maker for you."

He strolled backward, his free palm extended. "Then, what would we have to talk about?"

"Good night, Sergeant."

"Good night, Captain."

Once alone, Don interlaced his fingers on top of his cranium. "He forgot to blame the coffee; you're slipping in your old age, John."


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