Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters except the Mary Sues :) Dick Wolf is the master of the L&O universe.

AN: This is my Christmas story... it's short, lighthearted, and romantic. It takes place during Season 20. I hope you all enjoy!

Monday

Wrapped in her charcoal gray Pea coat and matching scarf, Connie stepped out of the elevator. She tugged off her knit cap and paused for a moment to admire the decorations that framed the 10th floor entryway. They had popped up over the weekend, most likely the doing of the Office Manager, Ida. It was a pleasant change from the year before, an incident that many in the office referred to as the Great Glittercide and Tinsel Massacre. She inhaled the crisp scent of pine wafting from the Christmas tree and smiled. It was her favorite time of year, and nothing could put a damper on her spirit, not even criminals or scrooges.

Speaking of... Jack could be heard barking grievances from deep inside the labyrinth of demi-walls, ringing phones, filing cabinets, and cluttered desks. "Christ, that better not be a Nativity set. Somebody find Ida! Apparently I have to explain to her, yet again, that unless she wants to trigger a lawsuit, the decorations must be non-denominational."

Connie chuckled and exchanged an amused expression with the receptionist, Eve. "Merry Christmas!"

"Bah, Humbug!" Eve replied sarcastically, beckoning Connie over to the window. She handed her a petite box wrapped in green iridescent paper. "This is for you. A very handsome suitor, who asked to remain anonymous, dropped it off for you about 20 minutes ago."

Connie smirked, knowing that she didn't have to wait long for his identity to be revealed. Eve leaned closer to the partition, causing her antler headband to jingle. "Leo Sterner, the geek chic ADA from Cybercrimes."

"Oh, him." Leo was a tall and extremely good-looking thirty-something prosecutor with a penchant for pinstriped suits and Arthur-Milleresque eyeglasses. What little interaction she'd had with him had been pleasant, but as far as she was concerned, they were no where near the gift exchanging level. Truthfully, she felt disappointed. A small, exceptionally defiant part of her had hoped that the Secret Santa might be Mike, but only because he still owed her big time for a few choice remarks that were made in open court the month before…. At least that's that what she was telling herself.

Flush with the embarrassment of her assumption, she fumbled to open the gift. Inside was an ordinary, unremarkable black thumb drive on a bed of crinkled red and green tissue paper. Connie frowned, holding the item up for further scrutiny. "Hmm… it's a bit anticlimactic."

Eve shrugged. "Well, look on the bright side: he's concerned about the security and portability of your files."

"Be still my foolish heart," Connie quipped, rounding the corner and heading toward her desk. She set the gift box atop a stack of files and hung her coat over her chair. Following a hunch, she turned on her computer and slipped the flash drive into the USB port. After a few moments of searching, she found a file titled Open Me. She chewed her lip and suppressed an unsolicited grin. "Clever…"

"What's that?" a familiar voice queried from behind. She turned slightly to find Mike looming over her, sipping his mug of coffee appreciatively. She noted that he was wearing his black shirt, a rare occurrence. Blue was a much more complimentary color. Wait…when had she started keeping track of his outfits, let alone which ones looked best?

"Nothing…" she fibbed as she double-clicked the icon. Her lips parted with shock and mortification. A large animated card appeared on her screen, asking her to be an escort to the Manhattan District Attorney Christmas Party, with an obnoxious rendition of Holly Jolly Christmas playing in the background. She couldn't turn away. It could be likened to witnessing a terrible train wreck. Connie was so entranced by the gaudiness that she didn't notice that Mike had leaned in more closely.

"That is clever: throw caution to the wind and hope that the creativity outshines the humiliation. How can a woman resist?" His ice-blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

Okay, that was strike three. Since when did his eye-color matter? She made a mental postscript to stop watching Lifetime before bed. She quickly minimized the window and redirected the conversation. "Will you be in attendance at this Holly Jolly soirée?"

"Food, booze, hangovers, and walks of shame on the company dime? I wouldn't miss it. So, who is this Lothario?" Mike set his mug on the desktop and reached over Connie, reopening the file despite her vociferous objection. His elbow narrowly missed her chest, and she rolled the chair slightly to avoid the awkward contact. "Leo Sterner… Wait, wait, wait a minute. The hipster with the ridiculous glasses from Cybercrimes? I should have known; this has giant tool written all over it."

"Be nice," she scolded. She quickly recaptured her mouse, ignoring the current of unfamiliar electricity that stemmed from a brief touch of their fingertips. "He obviously put in a considerable amount of time and effort."

"Don't tell me you're actually thinking of accepting his invitation. Listen, Connie, I get that it's the holidays and you want to be charitable… but this is a little extreme, don't you think?" Mike stood and casually tucked one hand into his pocket, retrieving his coffee with the other. "I mean, talk about a downgrade. The guy prosecutes hackers and identity thieves."

"'Said the jealous lawyer'…"

"I'm not jealous," he declared firmly, heedlessly backing toward his office. He proclaimed innocence, but his lips threatened to betray his deception with a smile. "I'm just saying: stick with your own kind, and you can sit at the cool kids' table."

Connie rolled her eyes, though deep down, she thoroughly enjoyed their fleeting moments of friendly and informal interplay. Everyone had the idea that Mike Cutter was a dull, lonely, unstoppable, and fanatical machine. Connie knew, however, that he had an irresistible charm, and, on occasion, she found herself almost craving long cab rides, walks to the Courthouse, lunchtime chats, and the proximity provided by his office.

She watched the digital clock on her monitor turn to 9:00, resigning to the fact that ornaments, blinking lights, and fruitless thoughts about inappropriate crushes couldn't stop crime.