This story is a bit late, but it's posted—unfortunately, I don't know who requested the prompts, so I can't give them co-author credit. Anyhow, I hope they like it. I couldn't, however use the song prompt because I already has a story with the title: "Baby, It's Cold Outside", so I changed it to Amy Grant's "Angels". I am sure that when you read the story, you will understand how it all fits together.
Prompts: Secret Santa, Snow Angels, Fruitcake, *Bonus – Mistletoe
Angels
Joss Carter looked at the brightly wrapped gift sitting on her desk at the 8th Precinct. It was a couple of days before Christmas and she wasn't exactly in the celebrating mood, but it was obvious whoever gave her the gift had put thought into it. Or at least that was impression from the wrapping paper and expensive bow topping it.
Picking it up, she shook it. Nothing. Now she was curious. She always prided herself on self-control, but the more she looked at the gift, the more intense the urge became to just rip it open. Biting her lip, she gave it one more glance then looked away.
"What's that?" Lionel Fusco asked as he walked into the bullpen carrying a folder.
"What's what?" Joss asked stupidly and pretended to read the arrest report she was getting ready to submit.
"That," Lionel nodded toward the gift.
"Oh, that," Joss shrugged. Picking it up, she moved it to the corner of the desk to avoid temptation. "It's nothing."
Lionel gave a snort. "Looks like a lot more than 'nothing'." He walked over to Joss. "Why don't you open it?"
Joss shook her head. "No." But her fingers itched to tear and peel away. The temptation was almost too much to resist.
"Aw, come on, Carter," Lionel egged on. "What do you have to lose? Open it."
"Nah." She tried to read the report, but the words began to blur together.
"It might be something important. I say you should go for it." He picked up the gift and held it out to his friend.
Joss reconsidered. She grabbed the box. "Oh, okay." Eagerly she teared at the paper and found a heavily decorated box underneath. "What is this?" She turned it around in her hands.
"I don't know. Open it."
A little wary and a bit curious, Joss lifted the lid. For a long moment she tried to comprehend what she was seeing. Elation was quickly replaced by disappointment and anger. With shaky hands she lifted the cellophane wrapped dessert out.
"A fruitcake?" she whispered. She blinked to clear her vision. No, she wasn't dreaming; there was a fruitcake in her hands.
Moderately impressed by the boldness of the giver, Lionel looked at the cake loaf. "Wow. That's uh..." he tried to find the right words to comfort but complimentary enough that he wouldn't get shot. "...different," he finished.
"A fruitcake?" Joss repeated. "Who would get me a fruitcake for Christmas?" Who had been so offended that they had to get the lousiest gift known to mankind, she wondered.
"Maybe someone who didn't know what to get you?"
"That isn't funny, Fusco."
"Perhaps they meant well."
"Or it means that they should never give gifts."
"Is there a card?" Lionel wondered.
"I don't..." Joss looked for any evidence that would point her in the direction of the Scrooge who drew her name. "Here it is!" She tore open the envelope.
"What does it say?"
"'May your Christmas be the merriest and brightest there is... And your New Year, too. With all the blessings from above, may the season surround you with love'," she read a loud.
"Great card, sucky gift," Lionel pointed out.
"Thanks for the late-breaking news flash." Joss shoved the card back in the envelope.
"Was it signed?"
"No."
"Wait. The card has your name on it." Lionel looked at the handwriting. "Uh oh."
"Uh oh good, or uh oh bad?"
Lionel pointed at the script. "That's Wonderboy's scribble."
"John?!" Joss tried to wrap her brain around the revelation. "John gave me this?!"
Lionel showed her the envelope. "Do you know anyone else with the handwriting of an ex-CIA hit man?"
Joss felt rage course thru her. Angrily she shoved the fruitcake back in the box and pulled on her coat.
"What are you doing?" Lionel wondered. He had seen his partner in a lot of moods, but this one was different. If he didn't know any better, Joss Carter was going to put something at the top of her tree, and he would bet dollars to donuts that it wasn't going to be an angel.
"I'm going to give this back to the person who gave it to me." She wrapped the scarf around her neck and secured it firmly.
Lionel looked around the room and lowered his voice, "Is that wise?"
"What will be wise is that you don't answer the 9-1-1 call when someone has been pummeled with...this," Joss retorted as she pulled on her gloves and then grabbed the box. At the last second she remembered the report and grabbed it too.
Lionel gave a short chuckle. "Let me know if you need help taking him out to Oyster Bay."
"Heh." Turning on her heel, Joss marched out of the bullpen.
"Go get him, Tiger," Lionel called out.
******
The soft strains of Amy Grant singing Christmas carols filled the spacious loft while John Reese sat in complete disbelief at the object sitting on his coffee table. Three straight up shots of scotch later, and it was still there. He closed his eyes, waited. Nope, it was still there.
"It's a fruitcake," he said a loud to no one in particular – not that it would have changed the circumstances.
Setting his glass down, he picked up the envelope and looked at the fancy script on the outside. He would know that handwriting anywhere: It was Joss Carter's. But that still didn't explain the crappy gift. Of course it didn't help that he had been misled by the fancy wrapping paper topped with a bow and mistletoe.
He had been expecting anything inside the fancy, expensive box – bullets, a new gun...hell, he would have taken socks or a scarf – but a fruitcake?! If he was ninety and in a nursing home eating slop, then yeah, it would have been welcomed. But every K-ration he had ever eaten was more appealing than the doorstop staring back. He wasn't sure, but he swore it was laughing at him.
Reese hung his head. Had he really been so cruel and unfeeling toward Joss that she would give him the worst of the worst for a Christmas present? Maybe if he gave her the Nano she expressed an intrest in... He sighed. He needed another drink.
He pushed himself off the couch and walked over to the bar. He looked at the bottle. Half full. He would need to go out and get more if there was a chance he made it thru the holidays.
A loud knock jolted him and caused the liquor to spill over the smooth wood surface. Setting the bottle down, Reese hurried over to the door. He unfastened the many locks before opening the heavy oak door.
"Joss," he breathed in surprise at the snow covered detective standing in the hallway. "I thought..." Not giving him a chance to finish, Joss hurried inside. "...you were working. Come on in," he offered as an after thought.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. The pair looked at one another as if waiting for someone to start the conversation.
"Drink?" Reese offered politely trying to diffuse the situation. After all, she was armed and just as good a shot as he.
"No, thanks." Joss pulled the gift box from inside her coat. She thrust it at Reese. "What is the meaning of this?"
Reese looked flummoxed by her statement. He glanced at Joss's hands. "What is that?"
"Don't pretend that you don't know. You gave it to me."
Reese smiled wryly. "What did I give you?"
"The gift. The present. This!" Joss pulled the fruitcake out of the box.
"Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing." Reese picked up his fruitcake from the coffee table.
Joss pulled back. "What is that?"
"Your gift to me."
Joss scoffed. "I didn't get you that."
"Well, I didn't get you that," Reese nodded toward Joss's fruitcake.
"Of course you did. Isn't this your handwriting?" She showed him the envelope with her name.
"I want to say yes, but I wouldn't have addressed it with your first name. In fact, I wouldn't have put your name on it," Reese replied confidently.
Joss looked at the envelope. "But this is your writing."
"And this is your writing, Joss," Reese said and showed her his envelope.
If the atmosphere in the loft was uncomfortable before, it was becoming more unpleasant as the seconds ticked by.
"I'm going to guess that you didn't lose your mind and get me a fruitcake," Joss apologized in a round about way.
"No more than you gave me one, I'm guessing."
Joss looked down at the dessert and shook her head. "But, how? Who...?"
Reese took the envelope and examined it closely. "Here. Look." He pointed to the script. "Whoever did this was good. Really good. But they messed up right here." Joss leaned in.
"Who? Who did this?" she demanded.
Reese chuckled. "I have two guesses. And one of them is your partner."
Eyes widened, Joss tried to digest the revelation. "Fusco?! Fusco did this?!" All of her anger was suddenly redirected toward the man she had once considered a friend and confidant.
"And I'm sure he had a little help from Shaw."
"How do you know?"
"One of her talents is the ability to flawlessly copy handwriting and make forgeries. She almost outdid herself this time."
"But why?" Joss wondered. "Why give us these...gifts and pretend we gave them to each other?"
Reese stepped forward. The music from the stereo filled the room and gave it an almost ethereal feel.
"Because they wanted to give us the gift we really wanted." He took the box from her hands and set it on the coffee table.
Joss felt her breath catch in her chest. "Wh-what is that?"
Reese cupped her cheek in his large hand. "Do you really have to ask, Joss?" he replied in a low tone that caused Joss to shiver. She licked her lips. "I have only wanted one thing the past couple of Christmases." He leaned in so that his lips hovered over hers. "You."
"Me?" she breathed in surprise.
"You." Reese covered her lips with his and kissed her. Gently, softly, he moved his mouth over hers and drank in her sweetness. He heard her moan and pulled her closer to him. His blood ran hot at the way she fit so perfectly against him.
Coming up for air, Joss and Reese stared at one another.
"Wow," she complimented. In her lifetime she had been kissed and gave kisses back, but nothing could have prepared her for John Reese's lips. She swallowed hard and tried to get her thoughts together. "Wow," she repeated.
"That's better than what I can come up with," Reese admitted. His thumb stroked her soft cheek. So soft. She was so beautiful standing in his loft, bathed in Christmas lights from the tree. His heart was in free-fall, but he didn't care. Not at all.
"I guess this gets Fusco off the hook...for now," she groused semi-reluctantly.
"Oh?" His curiosity was peaked by the remark.
"He offered to help me take you to Oyster Bay as payback. Little does he know that he got lucky. This time."
"I suppose I should get our guardian angels a Christmas present in return for all their hard work."
Joss looked shyly at the man she had lost her heart to so long ago. "Do I get to have mine, first?" she wondered.
"What do you want?" Reese's eyes smoldered with desire.
Joss leaned over and plucked the mistletoe from the wrapping paper. "You."
Reese wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "You do realize that I'm the gift that keeps on giving?"
"Are you sure?" she purred coyly.
"Unwrap me and find out," he invited.
Joss held the bit of mistletoe over her head. "First things first."
Amused, Reese looked up at the sprig in Joss's hand. "I love you, Joss."
Her eyes darkened with passion. "Funny you should say that," she said, "because I love you too. Now kiss me, John."
"Until I can't anymore," he promised and covered her lips with his.
*****
Outside on the sidewalk, just below the window of Reese's loft, two figures stood quietly, watching with interest. As the light went out, they looked down and at one another.
"Well, that was easy," Lionel chirped happily and rubbed his hands together. He blew on his fingertips as the wind picked up.
"Easy? You almost got a one way trip to Oyster Bay," Shaw pointed out matter-of-factly. "I would say that you lucked out. Again."
"Eh. What does it matter? We finally got those two knuckleheads together. That is the most important thing."
Shaw looked up at the darkened window and sighed. "I suppose. Despite the fact that you nearly got the both of us shot, it did better than I expected," she complimented in her backhand way. "What do you say we go over to Bryant Park and I buy you a hot chocolate?"
Lionel was taken aback by the invite. "You're buying me a drink?" He puffed out his chest.
"Don't flatter yourself, it's Christmas. Even I can do something nice." She started walking. Lionel hurried to catch up.
"What do you say that afterward we make snow angels?"
Shaw looked at him and gave a half-smile/half-sneer. "You do realize that sand doesn't freeze, right?"
Lionel paused. "Hot chocolate sounds great."
Side by side, the pair walked away as the snow gently fell to blanket the city and its lovers.
The End.