Look It's Santa Claus

"Victor, you are coming to the holiday party tonight," the Director stated. Mac and LiAnne were on assignment in Antarctica. Victor wasn't quite sure what they were being punished for, but he was seriously happy that he was the Director's favorite. Victor rolled his eyes.

"Vic, I really don't…"

"Come to the party, Victor." She arranged her mouth into a pout. "I'd be terribly upset if I had to come drag you out. The cats are away, time to play." She smiled. Victor laughed a little. He leaned forward, calling her out on his own terms. She gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. He stirred the scotch on the briefing table with one finger, then licked off the alcohol. It wasn't the calculated move that it could have been. He was looking at the door with the red and green stripes on it.

"Did you repaint that yesterday?"

"Hmmm?"

"Wasn't the door blue and silver?"

"Oh, that." She shrugged. "Yes. You will come." Victor grinned and his eyes started to sparkle.

"I'll be there, Dollface. With bells on. Seven?"

"Seven," she confirmed. Cory kissed her hand.

"Bye, Sweets. Gotta go get ready." He glanced at her over his shoulder and winked. "Time to play."

Cory sauntered out of the office. He waved at Dobrinsky and Jackie. Jackie waved back at him. Oh, she was in for a surprise, if she didn’t get sent out of town before the end of the day that was. The Director didn't like to share most of the time. Jackie watched her partner walk down the hall. Wow. He doesn't look like a cop today.

Dobrinsky shook his head. These new recruits were clueless. He'd better warn the Cleaners that Cory was around.

****

Mac would have laughed himself sick if he'd seen Vic pawing through his wardrobe in disgust before hitting the most exclusive boutique in the city. Then, he would have had Victor in the infirmary to see what he was on. As it was, Cory came whistling through his front door with five shopping bags. He nodded a hello to the Director. She was curled up in his armchair with a trade magazine. She followed him to the bedroom and went through the clothes he'd bought. "Someone's been naughty this year," she stated.

"As if Victor ever spends a penny. Does the man seriously believe that the stock market is that unstable?"

"He doesn't use insider information."

"Just because he isn't the one flirting with them, doesn't mean he's not using the information."

"Consciously, then. He'll want to know how you're paying for this."

"He knows how I pay my bills, Doll. You do too. Now be good and find my red shirt."

"Red? Really, how dreadfully predictable." She pulled it out. It was pure crimson silk. It would hang long and the French cuffs would probably be left open, accenting most of the long, ahem, innocent parts of Cory's body, hands and chest. He slipped it on over a soft cotton tee-shirt of green. He buttoned two buttons at the bottom. His black leather pants and soft-soled boots completed the outfit. Except for a tiny hint of cologne. The Director smiled. "I'm impressed. Holiday spirit."

"Santa?" Cory blinked. "Did you get my Christmas list? Baby's been soooooo good this year."

The Director smiled. She was wearing red leather this year, no doubt about it. "Of course you haven't," she chided. "But that's what I love about you. Tell Santa what you want for Christmas."

"I want you under my Christmas tree. Laying on a mink blanket. I want a blank check with your pretty signature on it. And I want a house. That's not much." He leaned closer and she tweaked his nose. He gave her a quick kiss, then licked her lipstick off of his lips. "We don't have that much time. Come on. You need to change. You simply can't wear the same thing you wore last year. It'll become predictable." He grabbed her hand. She laughed and followed him out.

"I'll drive," she informed him.

****

The party was in full swing by the time they arrived. The Director walked through the door with more than one appreciative eye lingering on her. Then, they saw her companion whispering into her ear. A current ran through the room. Mansfield was in leather. That was practically unheard of. Sideways glances evaluated their outfits. They matched. The rumor mongers known as the Cleaners exchanged a speaking look.

Jackie sashayed across the floor, her fur-rimmed green and red dress made her look like an especially perky elf. "Hi, Victor. You look . . . cute. Merry Christmas."

"Thanks, Sweetie. Come on, Doll, we have to dance some before you try to poison me with Egg Nog again."

"Would I do something like that?" the Director purred. She settled a possessive hand in the small of Victor's back. "Jackie, go get us some punch."

Jackie pouted, but did what she was asked. She stopped dead as she found them on the floor. The Director was practically doing Mansfield on the floor in front of God and everyone. She took a gulp of punch. Then, she noticed that Victor's hands were definitely not where they should have been. She finished off the glass she had in her right hand and considered doing the same to the left. The Director looked over the ex-cop's shoulder at the Mafia princess. Jackie quickly scurried back for more punch. She handed them each one. Victor nodded in thanks. He shared his sip with the Director with a not-so-sweet kiss. He winked at Jackie.

"Thanks."

"Welcome. Um, I'll just be over there." Jackie escaped to the security of the table she was sharing with Dobronski and the Lone Gunmen. "Oh, my God. That was just so wrong."

"What?"

"The Director frenching Victor. It's just wrong."

Frohike snickered. "I wouldn't mind it."

"He has a thing for redheads," Langley told her.

TBC

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