Title/Author: "Between the Bars: McCoy" by n.s.

Rating: T (minor language, some suggestive scenes)

Summary: A not-canon-but-not-not-canon take on Jack McCoy and Claire Kincaid's relationship through seasons 5-6; in the same universe as "Between the Bars: Logan," so implied Mike Logan/Claire also.

Disclaimer:I don't own any of these characters. This story is brought to you by 20-year-old repeats of Law & Order that happen to coincide with my daughter's nap time.

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"He's stupid."

She looked up, her hand still on the phone as it sat in its cradle.

"Excuse me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded at the phone as crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall of her cubicle.

"Whoever you've been calling for the past week, and hasn't been answering."

Her face turned unmistakably flush, for a flicker of a moment, before rapidly fading back.

"I think that is slightly outside of your jurisdiction," she informed him curtly, turning to face her desk. "I finished Susan Forrest's brief."

"Great." He tossed his head toward the elevator. "How about dinner?"

"Not hungry," she said without looking up from the memo pad she busied herself writing on.

"Then keep me company and have a glass of wine. My treat, your favorite, Szechuan Dragon." She slowed her writing, a chink in the armor, so he continued, "c'mon, the brief is done. Anything else at this time of night will be busy work."

"The life of an assistant DA," she said, more heavily than he imagined she meant to, putting her pen down.

"Not tonight."

Dinner conversation was light, and the faraway look in her eyes and hesitancy of her smile evaporated after appetizers and a glass and a half of plum wine.

"Why don't you wear it wavy?" he asked suddenly, as she fiddled with her hair, which at the late hour in the humid weather had fought successfully against the blow out she gave it that morning. She touched an end self-consciously, and tucked it behind her ear.

"I had a professor in law school who told me curly-haired women were seen as loose, and if I wanted to be taken seriously by a jury or other attorneys, I should wear it straight or pulled back," she explained with a shrug and a self-deprecating smile. "I guess it stuck with me."

He wanted to reach across the tiny table and pull that strand back out so it would curl around her jaw line. Instead, he just held her gaze and said, "Well, I like it."

Her lip curled in a sarcastic half-smile.

"Thank you, prosecutor McCoy, for strengthening the case against it."