Just some funny drabble! Brings out something from Mike's past, and contains some favourite villains that we just love to hate. Enjoy!:-)
Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order and its characters. I do not own Law and Order: SVU and its characters. Sandra and Ingrid are mine.
Rating: T, for language and adult themes.
Category: Mike/Connie, Mike/other
Note: Slight Law and Order/Law and Order SVU crossover. (I just briefly used a character from SVU in a part of this story, nothing major.)
Calender Boy
By LTP-girl
Connie looked up to see her friend, Sandra from traffic division, standing in the doorway of her and Mike's office, her hands behind her back.
"Oh, hi Sandra," she said with a friendly smile. "What brings you here?"
Sandra briskly entered the room, and Connie couldn't help but notice the grin that suddenly spread across her face. It also appeared as though she was hiding something behind her back.
"I've got something to show you," she replied, with a sense of eagerness in her tone.
"Okay," Connie answered, arching an eyebrow, curious as to what Sandra was hiding from her.
Sandra pulled what appeared to be a calendar out from behind her back, and placed it on Connie's desk.
"It looks like a calendar," Connie remarked.
"Exactly," Sandra replied smugly.
"So, what's so significant about a calendar?"
"Look who's on the cover." Sandra pointed at it, prompting Connie to take a look.
Connie picked it up from her desk, and leaned back in her office chair. She nearly fell backwards onto the floor when she took a glimpse of the man on the front cover, draped in a towel.
"Oh my god," she exclaimed. "It's Mike!" Her mouth dropped in shock.
"Yep, that's right. Hotshot of 1994. Well, that's what it says on the cover anyway."
"And he looks so..."
"Hot," Sandra finished. She chuckled to herself. "You think that one's good, you should take a look at the other steamers inside."
Connie flipped through the months. January, February, March, April. They were all pictures of Mike, dressed in hardly anything, and in some quite frightful poses.
This must have made someone's 1994 a very happy year, Connie thought to herself, as her eyes continued to schime over the photos of the rather gorgeous model in question.
"Ooh, that's my favourite," Sandra cut in, pointing at December.
In the picture he was holding a Christmas present to conceal his privates, dressed in nothing but a Christmas had and a debauched expression.
"I guess Mike mustn't have been very cold that winter," Connie commented smartly.
Both women broke down in an outburst of laughter.
Suddenly, Mike entered the room, briefcase in one hand, and laden with a cardboard tray of coffee for him and Connie in the other.
"Hey, what's so funny," he asked interested.
Connie quickly swiped the calendar off her desk and, dropped it into the wastebasket beside her, so that Mike wouldn't see.
"Um, nothing," Connie replied. She stifled another laugh.
"Doesn't sound like nothing," he protested. "Oh, come on, I share my jokes with you all the time."
Connie exchanged a glance with Sandra.
"Well, Sandra was just telling me about this judge who got vomited on at the park," Connie lied.
"Yeah," Sandra agreed, conforming to Connie's plan. "Just some kid who had too much ice-cream."
"Oh." He placed the tray of coffee on his desk, and removed his coat. "That's disgusting."
"See, I knew you wouldn't think it funny," Connie answered.
"You know, I had better get back to work," Sandra said, leaving the room, finding Mike's presence unsettling, especially considering what she and Connie had just been discussing.
Mike glanced over at Connie, his hand on his hips. "Why's she leaving in such a hurry? Was it something I said?" he enquired, bewildered.
***
There was a knock at Mike's office door.
"Come in," he called out.
The door opened, and he was surprised to find Ingrid, a young intern, standing there.
Ingrid was a rather attractive young woman, tall and slim with strawberry-blonde hair that fell to her shoulders. But Mike never let that get in the way of his work, especially with his own personal ideas against office romances.
"Hey Ingrid, what can I do for you?" he asked, his expression welcoming.
She entered his office and closed the door behind her.
She approached his desk.
"Mr Cutter, there's something I need to talk to you about," she said, seeming frantic.
He couldn't help but notice the urgency in her voice, and was now quite concerned.
"Okay," Mike said, a little dumbfounded.
She took a seat in front of his desk.
"I'm just going to get straight into it and tell you what's been bothering me," she began.
He cleared his throat. "Alright, how can I help you?" He closed the cover of the case-file he had been reading over, and dropped the pen he had been using onto the desk.
She hesitated for a moment, Mike's steady gaze heightening her nervousness, as he waited for an answer. "There's a member of staff who has been annoying me."
A look of surprise spread across his face. "Annoying you?"
"Yes."
"What do you mean annoying you?"
"Well, he's been trying to crack onto me," she answered shamefully, staring down at her feet.
Mike paused for a moment. "Oh, I see," he answered softly. "When you say 'cracking onto you,' do you mean making advances towards you?"
"Yes, that's exactly what I mean." She looked into his stormy-blue eyes, their glance piercing through her. "Maybe I'm over reacting, but I thought it would be best to report him," she explained, with slight panic in her tone.
"Oh yes, you did the right thing," Mike replied quickly. "And you're not over reacting. It's always best to sort these problems out at the beginning, especially when harassment is involved."
"Good, I'm glad," she answered, sighing with relief.
Mike leaned over his desk. "If you don't mind me asking, what did this guy do exactly?" he asked curiously.
Ingrid paused for moment before she spoke. "He, um, he...groped me," she answered quietly, clearly very embarrassed.
Mike leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows arching. "He groped you?"
"Ah ha."
A look of troubled frustration spread across his face, the lines on his face deepening.
"Well that's not on," he answered disgusted, crossing his legs. "Who is this dirty groper then?"
"Marcus Whol."
Mike's eyes widened in shock.
***
Sonya Paxton made her way down the hallway of the DA's office. Two months had passed since she had appeared in court drunk as a sailor on that fateful day, and had her licence to practice law suspended. Now that she had finished her course of rehabilitation, and office gossip about the incident had died-down, she was ready for work again.
She couldn't help but feel as though everyone in the office had their eyes on her.
Oh well, they're probably admiring my new Chanel suit, she thought to herself, her nose in the air.
She stood in front of the elevator, waiting for its decent. She glanced over at a table full of papers. There was something very intriguing that had caught her eye.
She leaned over the table and picked it up. It was a calendar, with a debauched and very striking man dressed in a towel on the front, and the words Hotshot 1994 spread across the front cover.
Yes, very intriguing, she thought to herself.
Her jaw dropped, now realizing who the ruggedly handsome man was. EADA Michael Cutter.
She picked the calendar up and flicked through its pages, a grin spreading across her face, very satisfied with the images.
My, my! Mikey, where the hell are your pants? She thought to herself mischievously. I wander what the DA's office will make of this.
She looked around to make sure that nobody was watching, and slid the calendar into her briefcase.
She then heard the ding of the elevator, and its sliding doors opened.
Hmm, I wish I could remember where the nearest photocopy machine is.
She made her way into the elevator, and smiled at the man who exited. "Hey, the fourth floor has a copy machine, doesn't it?" She called out to him.
"Sure does," he replied with a smile.
"Thank you." She pressed the button for the fourth floor.
She was not going to let her colleague's reticule get to her any longer, and it was time she did something about it. Sonya Paxton figured that one way to devoid office gossip away from oneself was to direct it onto someone else. And she had just the equipment to do that, to make Mike Cutter the latest laughing stock!
She smirked wickedly to herself.
She wasn't the only employee at the DA's office who could be looked upon as a fool.
"Oh, poor, dear Mikey," she chuckled to herself.
The end.
(Sonya Paxton reminds me of this conniving and manipulative woman my grandmother knows at golf, so I just had to put her into this story!)
What do you think? Feel free to review!