Title: Santa Baby

Author: Sorsha711
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC
Rating: R, adult situations implied
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!
Summary: Naughty or nice? Is the answer to that question the same as when he was a kid? John hopes not! A slightly… hugely fluffy sequel to Making a Connection and A Day in the Life, the third story in my Munch/Arwen series.

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The combination of the fire he had lit in the co-op's small fireplace and the twinkle of the Christmas tree cast just enough light to allow her to finish wrapping gifts without the need to turn on a lamp. Their small living room seemed to glow. The fanciful part of his nature… one John kept well hidden from everyone but Arwen, had concluded that the glow owed as much to his soon-to-be wife as to the fire or the tree. She seemed to radiate light, filling the dark places in his heart with her spirit… her love.

Their wedding was a little over a week away… New Year's Eve at the stroke of midnight. Family and friends were planning to descend on the City a few days before the big event, so the couple had elected to spend a quiet evening at home before the final rush of Christmas and the wedding consumed all of their time and energy. A rare night at home alone with Arwen was exactly what John needed after a long week at work… not to mention the round of parties and other events they had attended over the past month to celebrate various holidays and/or their coming nuptials.

They had hosted their own party the night before… his friends and coworkers, her friends and coworkers… the twins and some of their friends… most of their neighbors. It had been a mob scene. Now that the last of the dirty wine glasses had been put away, he was content to sit quietly in his chair with nothing to do but watch her. Watching Arwen was his favorite activity regardless of the circumstances, but it seemed all the more satisfying after the frenzied pace of the last few weeks.

Officially, he and Fin were on call for the weekend, but Chester Lake, the newest member of the SVU team, had volunteered to take his place so John could enjoy his 'sanity break'. Ches and Fin had grinned wickedly as they added a warning he needed to rest up for his bachelor party. The addition of several overly-emphasized 'Sgt. Munch's' to their warning had been a continuation of the ribbing he had been enduring since his promotion had been announced.

John knew Dan and Rob were in on the planning for the bachelor party, so he hoped they would keep things in check out of respect for their mother. Besides, his partners regularly accused him of being both too old and too 'whipped' to keep up with them in the partying department anymore. All things considered, he suspected it would be more hype than action, but with Fin and Elliot involved, you never knew.

On the up side, Arwen didn't seem to think he was too old to get a little wild when the situation allowed it. That took the sting out of their teasing. It irritated them that their jibes about his age and stamina no longer elicited the response they wanted… another sign he was whipped Fin claimed.

The twins had left early that morning to go skiing with college buddies and wouldn't be back until late the next day. John had sold his co-op the month before and they had used part of the proceeds to pay off the mortgage on hers… making this place officially theirs. It also meant the twins were staying with them over the Christmas break rather than at his former place as they had on prior vacations since he had moved in with their mom. As much as he enjoyed her sons' company, he admitted to himself he welcomed the quiet that reigned in the wake of their departure.

Arwen was sitting in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by the flotsam and jetsam left from her evening's work. Lúthien, their six-month old kitten, was stretched out at her side playing with a bit of ribbon Arwen had used to distract her so she could finish her work. It fascinated John to watch her take the glossy paper and lengths of ribbon and transform them into works of art… of a sort. Arwen loved adding little embellishments that made her gifts almost too pretty to open.

Glancing around the crowded room, he once again took in the decorations that seemed to cover every surface and corner. The first Saturday in December he had come home late from a stakeout to find her in full 'deck the halls' mode. He had stood in the doorway for several minutes, too shocked by the ciaos waiting just inside their home to speak. The co-op was usually modestly decorated, the bric-a-brac kept to a near minimum.

The huge wreath on the front door should have warned him of what was waiting inside, but it hadn't. Christmas seemed to be the one exception to her semi-minimalist style. John liked to tease her that, when she broke the rules, she broke them big… but the stacks of partially emptied boxes, dozens of Nutcrackers and angels… the music boxes, multiple Nativities, fresh and artificial greenery… several potted poinsettias and containers of fragrant paperwhites… a pot holding towering red Amaryllis… it had all been a little overwhelming.

Arwen had peeked around a massive Frazier fur that occupied one entire corner of the living room when she had heard the front door open, but had kept quiet until he finished taking it all in. In retrospect, he was somewhat surprised she had even heard his arrival. She had been preoccupied by decorating the tree, her copy of The Nutcracker staring Mikhail Baryshnikov playing on the TV… apparently watching the ballet while stringing lights was another of her Christmas traditions.

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"Are you OK with this?" she had asked, an uncharacteristic hesitancy in her voice. "I can take some of it down if it's too much."

He had laughed at that, the weight of his day dropping away as the pleasure of being home wrapped around him. "Define some?"

She had looked uncertainly around the room, trying to decide what she could do without. "Well…"

"I'm teasing, Wen. Now that the shock is beginning to wear off… I kind of like it," he admitted. "I've never lived in Martha Stewart's workshop before, so this should be interesting."

Frowning, she had insisted, "It's not that bad… is it??"

John had maneuvered his way between the boxes to join her beside the tree. Grinning, he had pulled her into a reassuring hug. "I like it, Wennie."

Returning his hug, she had retorted, "You know I hate being called Wennie… Johnny."

He had smirked at her comment, but refused to apologize. "I don't mind you calling me Johnny. I hate it when my mother calls me that… I keep expecting to be sent to my room without supper because I got in trouble a school or was a wise ass again."

"Hummm… she sent you to your room without supper every time you were a wise ass?" she repeated, a smile clearly evident in her voice. "That explains why you've always been so thin! You must have missed a lot of meals!!!"

Chuckling, he agreed. "That must be it… but don't think you're changing the topic on me. Where did all of this stuff come from? Do you do this every year?"

She had nodded against his chest. "I started it the year the twins were born and I've added things every year since. A lot are gifts people have given me over the years. I can just hear them out shopping… 'Arwen's easy… just give her something Christmassy'."

"Is that bit of wisdom written down someplace or is it just an urban legend?" he joked.

"Neither… but its true," she admitted. "I love getting new pieces. I know I need to retire some things… or rotate them year to year, but… I open a box and I remember something special about a particular piece and I just can't put it away. No matter how hard I try to keep things simple, I end up putting most of it out every year."

"You didn't do this last year," he observed, making a mentally note to look for something to add to her collection that would remind her of this year… them… him.

He felt her grin. "It was way too soon… I was scared you would run for the hills if you saw all of this. Besides, most of it was in storage in DC. Angie and Joe brought part of it up for me at Thanksgiving. Rob picked up the rest… helped me stash it down in the storeroom before you got home. I got complaints from the boys last year... they missed my yearly binge."

"So… you've crammed enough decorations to fill a three-bedroom house into our small two-bedroom co-op to make up for their disappointment?" he teased.

"Sort of," she admitted. "Actually… I've added a few things…"

John began to laugh, Arwen clutched tightly to him. Somehow, this unexpected side of her seemed to fit perfectly into her complex personality despite its seeming contradiction to her everyday style. "A few…"

A crash behind them caused them to break apart and turn to see what had fallen.

Lúthien stared up at them from beside an overturned storage box. The clump of silver tinsel clinging to the fur behind her right ear gave her a festive look, aided no doubt by the tangled string of tree lights wrapped around her small body. A paw was imperiously extended in their direction with a silent demand that they rectify this indignity immediately… it obviously had to be their fault she was in her current predicament.

Sighing, John bent to rescue their intrepid companion. "I think you need to leave the decorating to your Mom, Lúth. I don't think this is helping."

The indigent cat gave a plaintive "Merrorrw," in agreement… at least temporary agreement.

"And I think I'll keep everything breakable out of her normal places to explore," Arwen observed, "Otherwise, we won't have to worry about what to put out next year."

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Coming back to the present, John reached for his glass of wine and settled more comfortably into his chair, his eyes fixed on his fiancé. Arwen had captured her lower lip between her teeth as she considered the monumental issue of which ribbon to use on the blue wrapped box in her lap. Apparently, she was torn between gold mesh and silver satin.

"I thought Christmas wrapping paper was supposed to be red or green?"

A brief glance his way was accompanied by the pronouncement, "If you want to be predictable… or if you're going for a 'retro' look, they are. Since this is for your mom, I was going for more of a Chanukah vibe."

"Chanukah is over for the year," he noted, sipping his wine.

"I know. I was the one to setup the menorah, remember? I just thought it was more appropriate… respectful, not to make her gift look too Christmassy," she countered.

Smiling at the effort she was making to win over his family, he suggested, "I think she would like the silver ribbon best. The living room in our old house was decorated in blues and grays. She loves those colors."

Nodding her thanks, Arwen began to measure out the necessary length. "You're awfully quiet tonight. Are you OK?"

"Just feeling mellow," he supplied. Wanting to tease her out of her serious mood, he added, "Can't a man enjoy his last few days of freedom?"

Her hands stilled in the midst of tying the bow. After a few seconds, she quietly asked, "You're not… are you sure you want to go through with this, John? I don't want you to feel you have to marry me to make other people happy."

John sputtered slightly as the sip of wine he had taken was sucked into his lungs. Coughing to clear his windpipe, he insisted, "Getting out of marrying you is the last thing I want, baby, but… are you ready to take me on permanently? You've been distracted all day like something is bothering you."

Setting the unfinished gift to one side, Arwen shifted so that she could kneel in front of him. Taking his hands, she promised, "There's nothing in the world I want more than to marry you, John. I just don't want you to feel pressured…"

"I don't," he inserted, squeezing her hands to confirm his words. "I take it you heard my partners and the boys teasing me last night?"

"Yeah… they shouldn't have…"

Leaning down to capture her lips in a quick kiss, he disagreed. "They were only having a little fun. I didn't ask you to marry me to make anyone happy but us. I'm not having doubts or second thoughts. I want this… OK?"

A soft smile accompanied her stretching up to meet his mouth for a second kiss. Against his lips, she agreed. "OK."

Holding onto her hands when she began to turn back to her wrapping, John pressed, "Now… are you going to tell me what's really eating at you? Is it just pre-wedding jitters… or something else?"

Pulling one hand free from his, she reached up to caress his cheek. "Maybe a little bit of jitters, but… there is something I've been wanting to discuss with you. I guess I've been putting it off because I didn't know how to bring it up."

Frowning slightly, John turned his head and pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand. "What's bothering you, Wen?"

"That first day we talked… at the coffee shop," she offered in a rush. "I asked if you wanted children and you said you did."

Nodding, he agreed. "Yeah, I remember. If you don't…"

"How badly do you want a child, John?" she whispered, her voice wavering with emotion. "I'm 44, so I'm not sure I can give you one. I'd like to try but… I may not be able to conceive. And there are risks to the baby because of my age… an increased risk of birth defects. I want another child… have for years, so I want us to try… but I don't want you to regret…"

"Wen… calm down, honey," John insisted, feeling a little overwhelmed by her raw emotions. "I'd love to have a baby with you, but … if we can't or if your doctor feels it's not safe for you or a baby, that's OK too. I'm more than content having you and the boys as my family. A baby would be great, but it's not going to change the fact I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. You're all I need… OK?"

Holding his gaze, she repeated, "Are you sure, John?"

"I'm sure… about all of it," he promised.

Sagging slightly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to him for a few minutes as her emotions slowly settled. Against his chest, she whispered, "I love you so much. I just want you to be happy and I don't want you to feel you've had to give up your dreams to marry me."

Tugging her up into his lap, John pulled her close. "I love you too, Wen. Meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me. Marrying you is my dream. You're the only thing on my list to Santa this and every year for the rest of my life."

The tightening of her arms around his waist was her only response, though he felt her smile at his Santa reference. After several minutes, Arwen lifted her head from where it had been resting on his shoulder. A provocative twinkle in her eyes warned him her mood had changed… improved drastically if he was any judge. "Santa only brings presents to good boys and girls. I'm not sure you're on the nice list, Johnny."

Leaning down to nuzzle her neck, he murmured, "Naughty list… no doubt about it, but it's your fault. You inspire me."

Gasping softly as his lips and teeth found a particularly sensitive spot behind her left ear, she whispered, "Ahh, Santa Baby… is that a candy cane in your pocket…"

His lips cut off the rest of her quip. He'd show her candy canes… and how nice it could be to be naughty!

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