Law And Order - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Got Me Wrong ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Wolf Films.

 

Author's Note: A Leap Year fic inspired from a “Clerks II” scene. Or, it's a belated Valentine's Day fic, whichever you prefer.

 

Timeline: The day prior to “Deep Vote”'s final scene.

 

 

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“Well, that's the last one.” Jack McCoy sealed up a paper crate. He then surveyed the vacant room, wiping off his hands.

 

The inhabitant, Abbie Carmichael, rolled up beside him. “Hey, thanks for doing this while I was busy with last minute paperwork.”

 

He massaged the hair on the back of his head. “Call it irony for my stepping over these things way back when.”

 

“At least, you didn't trip over them.”

 

“That would have been the crowning touch, now, wouldn't it?”

 

She eyeballed the bare space, smiling wistfully. “Of course. So, what do you think will happen to this place?”

 

“My guess — they'll turn it into a file room or another office.”

 

Her eyebrow ridge plummeted. “That sounds about right.”

 

“Well, Ms. Carmichael,” his arms were akimbo. “Tomorrow is your last day with us, so what would you like to do?”

 

Her pupils contracted. “What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, come on, there's got to be something you've always wanted to do, but never could.”

 

“Well, I've always wanted to sleep with you.” She angled forward.

 

His mouth was wide open. “Abbie, I….”

 

“I'm kidding, you degenerate,” she deadpanned.

 

Jack's palm was on his chest. “Some joke.”

 

“Hey, I waited three years to use it.” Abbie inclined backward and joggled her index finger.

 

“Was it worth it?”

 

“Yes, but that wasn't my actual request.”

 

He swallowed anxiously. “It wasn't?”

 

“Jack, don't flatter yourself.”

 

“Hey, you're the one that made the `sleeping around' joke. So, my bruised ego aside, what was it that you want?”

 

She stroked her jaw. “Well, you're not a genie, but there is one thing.”

 

“Am I going to regret this?”

 

“Probably, but I wouldn't do this if I didn't trust you completely.”

 

He flushed. “Then, I can't possibly refuse.”

 

She had a Cheshire cat grin. “You could, but would you want to?”

 

 

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The subsequent day, District Attorney Nora Lewin promenaded into Jack's shady office. He and Abbie were by his elongated table, seated closely together.

 

“Jack, do you have the Senator Benton file? I want to double check on our informant's testimony.”

 

“Sure.” He handed her a manila folder.

 

“Thank you.” Abruptly, she sniffed the air around her. “Do you smell that?”

 

“Smell what?” Abbie said.

 

“It smells like… nail polish.”

 

“That's because it is nail polish; I asked Jack if he could paint my toenails for me.”

 

Nora pulled back. “But, Abbie, I've never known you to use nail polish.”

 

The younger woman compressed her lips. “That's because I was being facetious. I placed my attaché case on a secretary's desk earlier today, and she accidentally spilled a new brand of toner on it.”

 

“So, you've been dragging around an attaché case with a nice pungent stench today.”

 

“Yeah. If you don't believe me, here's exhibit one, if you want a whiff for yourself.” Abbie reached for her black briefcase when her boss pressed on her shoulders.

 

“That's fine; I don't want your last day marred by my… smelling your case.” Nora swiftly released her grip, cheeks reddening.

 

“Alright, then.”

 

“What about you?” She glanced at a pokerfaced Jack.

 

“I have nothing to say on the matter.”

 

Her eyebrow shot up. “Nothing?”

 

“Unless you want to inspect Abbie's feet to verify her story.” He elevated his chin.

 

Nora did a headshake and returned to the doorframe. “I can just imagine the headlines if this were to be leaked: `D.A. inspects departing assistant's feet over bizarre odor.' Finish up your documents, and I'll treat you both to dinner.”

 

Both continued to be expressionless. “Thank you, Nora.”

 

“Thanks, Nora.”

 

She sighed to herself, shutting the door behind her. A moment later, Abbie swung herself around and positioned her bare feet onto Jack's lap. Cotton balls set between each digit, with only three right foot toenails painted red.

 

The senior rummaged through his trouser pocket, and a bottle of nail polish emerged. “I can't believe she bought it. By the way, nice color choice — red really compliments your skin tone.”

 

“Thanks. And I can't believe we went through it with a straight face. I almost lost it when you told her to inspect my feet.” She beamed brightly.

 

His brow furrowed. “I'm just as amazed as you are. Of course, I knew she'd back off, because the truth sounds so completely ridiculous and awkward. My only real concern is your attempt at subterfuge: sealing my outer office windows and painting your bag with the nail polish. As Nora said, `you've been dragging around an attaché case with a nice pungent stench.' So, was it worth it?”

 

“You know about image, Jack. I don't think the higher-ups would approve of you doing my toenails on company time, and imagine the office rumors alone. My briefcase was a small price to pay to throw people off the scent, so to speak. So, to answer your question, yes, it was.”

 

“Your impressive logic will serve you well in your new job, Counselor.” He untwisted the top, leering at her. “I must really like you, if I'm doing this.”

 

She cocked her skull. “Like I said — I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't trust you completely.”

 

He delicately dabbed her pinky toe with the cap's brush. “I'll miss you, too, Abbie.”

 

 

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