"Ugh… I'm so glad it's Friday," Penelope Garcia was finally on her way home after a 14 hour day. Luckily, her magic fingers had found the needed information to put yet another killer behind bars. She trudged her way up the stairs to her apartment, groaning when she saw the white paper taped onto her door. She loved living in a building with history, but the nearly constant renovations were more than annoying.

'Dear Tenant-

Asbestos removal will be taking place in your building for the next 4-5 weeks. Unfortunately, during this time habitation will not be possible. We have secured a block of rooms at the local Quality Inn for your use. Please vacate your apartment no later than Monday morning; the contractors will take steps to protect your belongings in the interim. Should you have any questions during this time, please do not hesitate to contact the management office with any questions or concerns.'

She opened the door and stomped into her apartment. She knew the Quality Inn; she also knew the clientele there tended to be more interested in hourly rates than an overnight stay. Annoyed, she began to make a list of items she would need to pack with her beyond the typical clothing and toiletries.

Across town, Derek Morgan was covered in paint. He was in the process of remodeling his house, one room at a time, and had just finished the guest room. He had painted it a cheerful cobalt blue; all that remained was to add the golden stained pine bead board wainscoting. Looking around himself, he couldn't help but smile. Who would've thought Garcia would have any interior design sense that wasn't comprised of lavender paint and beaded curtains? She had given him explicit 'suggestions' for each of the rooms, and for some perverse reason he was delighting in converting his austere, drab bachelor pad into a colorful jewel box of a home, matching to the letter his best friend's ideas.

Shaking his head to stop that dangerous train of thought, he turned back to the task at hand, and began gluing and affixing the bead board.

Monday morning, Derek popped his head into Penelope's office as usual. The sight that met him was a surprise, however. It looked like she had moved her entire apartment into the small office.

"Um, good morning princess… you moving in or what?"

She jerked around and he realized she was actually doing her makeup when he interrupted her. He tried to hide his fascination at the contrast between the one eye with cosmetics, and one without.

"Well, I wouldn't have to be if the Quality Inn knew anything about housekeeping…" She grumbled cryptically.

"Ok, so, you do realize that made no sense, right?" Derek pulled up the chair next to her when she resumed applying her makeup. He was confused by her remark, but also intrigued by watching her intimate feminine ritual.

Rolling her now finished eyes, she turned to look at him. "Asbestos." She sighed. "My entire building is being cleared of asbestos for the next month. The management company was so kind and booked us all rooms at the Quality Inn…" She looked nauseous. "Lets just say that I have a far different opinion on cleanliness than their housekeeping staff… and being kept up all night by my neighbors' busy work days isn't exactly my idea of a comfortable home away from home." She yawned, her exhaustion just now becoming evident. "So, I called Hotch this morning and told him the situation; he said I can sleep here till I find other accommodations. We've got showers here, and a microwave, shouldn't be a problem."

"Well, I've got a simple solution. You're gonna come stay with me."

She choked. "Yeah, I don't think-"

He cut her off. "No arguing. I finished the guest room Saturday night, need someone to try it out anyway."

"You only have one bathroom, hot stuff."

"Yeah, and?"

She closed her eyes in frustration. "Do you realize that bathroom is connected to your bedroom?" She smirked. "How do I know you could resist ravishing me?"

He laughed, then winced. "First off, there are two doors to that bathroom, and both lock. Secondly, wouldn't you much rather it was me ravishing you than some John breaking into the wrong room at the Quality Inn?" She blushed, then paled… she hadn't thought about that. "Besides," he smiled wickedly. "When was the last time you used the showers here? The hot water isn't exactly reliable, and I happen to have a garden tub…"

"Fine! Fine… ok. But you have to promise to let me cook… I don't fancy seeing the fire department every night for a month…" She laughed at his indignant look.

"I'm really gonna have to beat my sister now…"

"Go work angel fish. Me to mine, you to yours. I'll tell Hotch and pack this stuff up this evening."

When Garcia had explained her predicament, he had no problem approving her request to live from her office on a temporary basis. However, when she later sent him an email explaining that Morgan had offered his guest bedroom, he was concerned. Aaron Hotchner wasn't a profiler for nothing. Anyone who saw them together knew of the electric chemistry between Morgan and Garcia, well, everyone save themselves. If Morgan was going to have the object of his unrequited affection in his home for a month, he would be remiss, as friend and as supervisor, not to have a few words with the generous host. So, he picked up the phone and dialed Morgan's extension.

"Morgan, come see me when you're free, please."

15 minutes later the tall, dark man knocked on Hotch's door.

"Come in, Morgan."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Close the door and sit, please." Derek was a bit apprehensive, mentally reviewing the past few cases, but coming up with nothing worth reprimand.

"So, Garcia let me know she won't be needing the FBI's hospitality anymore… Morgan, do you now what you're doing?"

Morgan instantly tensed. "Sir, I am helping a friend."

Hotch closed his eyes and scrubbed at his face with his hands. "Derek. Ok, look. I may technically be your supervisor, but you know I'm a friend as well. I have to be frank with you here-"

Derek jumped up. "She has no where else to go! Am I supposed to look the other way as she sleeps on the floor of her office? No way- not happening!"

"Calm down! All I want to say is, profiler to profiler: you really need to take time this month to profile yourself. You and I both know she's more to you than just a friend."

Derek sat down heavily. "Why does everyone keep harping on that, seriously?"

Hotch smirked. "Maybe because you work in the BAU of the FBI? Maybe because the two of you are as transparent to everyone else as you are oblivious?" He became more serious. "Derek, my marriage fell apart because of this job. Because I didn't show Haley enough how much love I had. I shielded her instead of letting her in. Love is important. It's the antidote to what we do. The two of you have a connection stronger than anyone I've known. Just…" Hotch sighed, fearing he wasn't getting through to the younger man, "Just don't waste this opportunity."

Derek stood up stiffly. "I'll take it under advisement. We done here?"

Hotch just waved his hand and went back to the pile of files on his desk.