Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own none of these characters except Viviana (so far, that's the only character I've introduced that's new). JE is the master of all things Stephanie Plum.

Yeah, this is my first story for fanfiction. Please don't be too harsh on me, if you will. I've just had this idea bouncing around in my head involving one of my random characters and thought it might be cool to get out there. Review, please! I really want to know if it's any good or not, and if anyone likes it enough for me to keep putting up new chapters!

Btw, there's no romance so far, but there will be. ;) It could honestly go either way, honestly. It's like a Babecake story. :P

I sighed. It had been a long day, and I was completely ready to go back to Morelli's and have some nice pizza and beer. I plunked down in the crap-brown couch in Vinnie's office, totally beat. I'd had to drag in another naked FTA. God, I hated it when that happened. Unfortunately, we'd taken the Firebird. Let's just say… Lula wasn't happy ("Uh-uh, we are not putting another naked old dude in my baby! Why couldn't we just have taken Big Blue? That car is fuckin' indestructible!").

"Tough day, huh?" Connie asked me. I just looked at her. She took out a nail file from a drawer and started filing away.

"You don't even know. That must have been the fifth naked FTA I've had to drag in. Costanza and Big Dog almost died laughing. Is it sad I've lost track of how many naked guys I've brought in?" I asked, exasperated.

"Yup," said Lula, taking out a compact mirror from her purse and looking in it while fluffing out her newly dyed orange hair. "But, hey, at least somebody got a good laugh out of it, right?"

"Sure," I replied sarcastically. "I'm so done with naked guys."

Lula's and Connie's eyebrows both went up in surprise. "Not completely done," I added quickly. Wouldn't want to give them the wrong impression, after all.

"Okay, I'm going back to Morelli's. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Bye, Steph," said Lula absentmindedly, still fluffing her hair out. I had heard about nothing else all day besides her date later that night with Tank. Well, I was guessing it was a night of Vin Diesel movies and sex. That's usually all they did for the most part – watching violent movies and having sex. I'm pretty sure it suited both of them just fine after all of Lula's former wedding hi-jinks a little while back.

Connie waved at me, stopping her nail filing for a moment. I rolled my eyes and headed out the door. They cared so much.

I'd had a bit of car trouble (another one exploded – too bad; this time it was another one of Ranger's black SUV's) earlier that week, so I'd borrowed Big Blue again. Big Blue is the '53 Chevy truck that never seems to get exploded or destroyed or anything, much to my chagrin. It's a man kind of car, but I'm a bit fond of it, I suppose. A little bit. Maybe.

Finally, I pulled up at Morelli's house. His car wasn't in the driveway, because it was a few hours too early for him to have gotten off duty as a plainclothes cop.

I loved his house. It was cozy and somehow seemed to fit Morelli just perfectly. I took my keys out of the ignition and walked up to the door, and then I unlocked it.

The television was on. Odd, I thought. Maybe I left it on this morning.

But this was not so. There was a girl sitting on Morelli's couch, flipping idly through the channels with the remote. She looked up at the sound of the door closing and raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "You're not Morelli," she said, a thick New York accent punctuating her voice. I placed her at around sixteen years old. "Where is he, anyway? Shouldn't he be home by now?"

"Um… no. Sorry." Why was I apologizing to this girl? She'd broken into Morelli's house (how I didn't really want to know), and now she was watching his T.V. She needed to be kicked out and handed over to the police. What she'd obviously done was completely illegal. I plopped down on the couch beside her and continued, "Er… I hate to be rude, but may I ask what you are doing here?"

The girl looked straight at me, and for the first time I had a really good look at her. Her hair was nearly as dark as Morelli's, and parted so that most of it was on the left side of her head (a very fashionable way to wear your hair, I guess), and she had strikingly piercing green eyes. There was a necklace clasped around her throat, and I made a mental note of it because it was so interesting. The necklace was a silver chain with a princess's silver crown as its only ornament. Small pink stones adorned the points on the crown. I wondered if they were real pink sapphires or not, since I wasn't close enough to tell. The silver was definitely real, though. Her facial expression somehow reminded me of Morelli: closed and yet open, totally serene, the face of a person you know you can trust to know what to do in any situation. In control, no matter what.

"Well," she began, crossing her legs. I realized that every part of her was designer. She was dressed for winter in New York. Her boots were Uggs, her jeans were styled skinny and the designer was the expensive True Religion (their jeans were, on average, around $450), her shirt was a low-cut Armani, and her purse was Versace. There was nothing she wore that didn't cost at least $200. "I'm here for Morelli." And then she turned her gaze back to the screen. Hmph. Rude little thing.

We spent another couple of hours just sitting there in silence, since I didn't know what to say to that (and I didn't trust her enough to go anywhere I couldn't see her when she was in Morelli's house) and she didn't seem to feel like sharing anything with me. Then Morelli walked in, He must have heard the T.V., because he called out, "Hey, Cupcake. I didn't know you were home already. Why didn't you call me?"

I smelled pizza. I couldn't help myself. "Pino's?" I asked. Please be Pino's.

"Of course," he replied, sauntering into the living room with the pizza balanced in one hand. His eyes widened when he took in the girl. I realized I didn't even know her name.

He spluttered, "Viviana!?" The pizza nearly dropped out of his hand, but he caught it just in time with the other hand before it fell to the floor. "What the hell are you doing in Jersey? For that matter, what the HELL are you doing in MY HOUSE?"

It'd been a while since I'd heard Morelli yell. Something must definitely be up. That something must be big, something that involved the girl in Morelli's living room, and something I don't know about. Oh, boy.