I reposted this fic because I thought it was in need of some editing, and I gave it some tweaking along the way. Something light-hearted and fun. Let me know what you think? Enjoy;-)

Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order and its characters; they are the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. Tiffany and Kirsten are mine.

Rating: T, for language and themes.

Mr Popular

By LTP-girl

Manhattan County District Attorney's Office, NY, Monday, 2:00pm

Mike strolled broadly down the corridor of the DAs office, case-file in one hand, and laden with a mug of steaming double-shot coffee in the other, all set for the upcoming trial he and Connie had been preparing for the past few days. This particular case involved the greed and callous of a spoilt little rich boy attempting to get his hands on the family fortune by killing his grandfather, Willard Epson, the brain child of Epson Electronics Inc. Mike was hoping that the defendant's sentence would be twenty to life. One can dream, can't they?

He glanced through the slightly open door of the break room, noticing too young interns, Tiffany and Kirsten, chattering away. They should have been busy at work drafting legal documents and taking phone calls.

Typical generation Y, he mused to himself in frustration. They think a pay check is just served up to them on a silver platter.

He was about to peep his head around the door, and tell them to get back to work, when the case-file he was holding suddenly slipped from his grasp, and its contents had spilled out of the vanilla folder. Transcripts and evidence photos were now all jumbled and littered onto the floor outside the break room.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. Shit, how am I going to sort all this out?

He scrambled to pick them up, and couldn't help but eavesdrop on the women's conversation as he did so.

"I had that dream again, Kirsten," Tiffany said with a limpid sigh.

Tiffany chuckled to herself. "You mean the one where you turn up to mock-trial in your...?"

"No!" she retorted sharply. "The other dream."

"Ahhh, the Michael Cutter dream," Kirsten chimed in, now realising what Tiffany was alluding to, her voice wistful.

Michael Cutter dream?

Mike's ears sharpened, startled to discover that his name had been dropped into the conversation, and that he apparently lined the walls of one young law student's subconscious.

"That would have to be the third time this week," Kirsten continued, stirring equal into her coffee. "Well, I can't blame you, he is rather gorgeous. And you do see him for about ten hours a day."

Gorgeous? Tell me she did not use that word and my name in the same sentence.

He listened closer, and peeped through the slightly apache door, watching them.

"So, tell me more about this Michael Cutter dream then," Kirsten said excitedly, swiping her cup of coffee off the counter, and quickly taking a seat next to her friend. "Let me guess, over too quickly, right?"

"Well, he was treading down the corridor of the DA's office, like he always does, except this time he was wearing that charcoal suit. You know the one, with the matching vest?"

"Yeah I know the one," Kirsten replied dreamily. "My knees practically buckle every time I see him wearing it."

"He approached me and said, 'shall we go to your place or mine tonight?' The problem is, I woke up before we got to that part."

"Damn it, that always happens!"

Tiffany lowered her voice. "I know Mike Cutter's a bit, how shall I say... older, but let me tell you, he can take me down to the precinct and have me arrested anytime," she said wickedly.

Kirsten laughed. "I know what you mean," she agreed. "Those flex of grey hair, and onset depression lines are just what do it for me."

Mike couldn't believe what he was hearing. These two beautiful women, who were half his age, were interested in him? It was as though he was in college again, only this time he was the debauched professor all the girls slept with to get an A.

I'll have to remember to put a special word in for those two on their internship reports.

"I think it's those stormy eyes, and that smouldering come-to-bed voice that makes him so irresistible," Kirsten continued.

Tiffany took a sip of coffee. "Now you're talking!"

"Wouldn't like to be interrogated by him alone. Who knows what I'm capable of?" Kirsten joked.

Both women chuckled.

Mike smiled wryly to himself, still crouching low, his ears burning.

Jack McCoy eat your heart out, he thought smugly, very pleased with himself. There's a new Don Juan of the DA's office, and he happens to carry a blackberry!

Connie made her way down the corridor, and stood in front of Mike.

Mike glanced up at her, with a slight look of frustration, annoyed that he had been dragged away from the intriguing conversation he was listening in on.

"Having trouble Mike?" she asked teasingly, noticing the mess of papers at her feet.

He looked down, avoiding eye contact, and picked up the remainder of the transcripts that were sprawled on the floor. He cleared his throat. "I just dropped a case-file," he replied. He sighed exasperated. "I'll have to sort through it. The transcripts are all over the place now."

He stood up and smiled at her, his cheeks rosy.

"What's with you?" Connie enquired, surprised by the elated expression spread across her colleague's face. "You seem fairly cheerful for someone who just disarranged a file of transcripts."

"Nothing," he replied, his eyes twinkling, as he walked away from her.

Connie stood and watched as he strutted confidently down the corridor to his office, left puzzled by his jubilant mood. She couldn't help but notice the extra spring in Mike's step.

What have they been putting in our coffee that they're not telling us about? I want some!

What do you think? Feel free to leave a comment*^_^*