[a/n: couldn't help writing this. it was begging me all night to see realization. i hope it's a good one :) love y'all. peace.]

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CRIMINAL MINDS OR ANY COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL HERE IN... i am merely a pawn in a wonderful game..

She really didn't want to wake up. The bed was far comfier than she could ever recall it being, and she could feel a throbbing, sickening pain beginning in both her head and her stomach. She concentrated on the soothing sensation of the ultra soft bed linen against her heated skin as she nuzzled farther under the covers. 'Oohhh, that was nice', she thought as she wriggled happily for a few more minutes. She gave up the ghost of trying to fall back asleep when she realized she couldn't stop enjoying the feel of moving against the sheets. She sighed blearily and opened her eyes.

She did a double take. The room was rather blurry without her glasses, but it was most definitely not her room in her nice safe apartment; for one thing, the walls were a chocolate brown color, and for another thing, she could smell spicy men's cologne.

She sat up rather quickly, causing her stomach to do a mean lurch and spin routine and the lush blanket to skate down her paling, naked chest. She realized she was naked the moment the warmth of the blanket fell away. She snatched it back and quickly covered herself, breathing in a heavy, rising panic.

Where was she? What had happened? These and a million other questions flooded her already struggling mind. She scanned the room and found the outline of her glasses on the bedside table nearest to her and scrambled to fix them on her face. When her vision cleared, the first thing she noticed was the note that had been carefully written and placed under her glasses. She picked up the note warily.

It read: 'the mixture in the glass will help your hangover. Your clothes are on the chair by the window. I will be in the kitchen should you need anything else, Kitten.'

Kitten? Kitten? But that was Rossi's nickname for- Holy flying crap..

Penelope clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle any distressed noise that might escape, dropping the note in the process. No way.. No way!.. NO. WAY. .. Holy heaven and all of it's fluffy, bright angels, this was a disaster.. How in earth, sky, or moon could this have possibly happened?..

Penelope snatched the glass full of god-knows-what hangover cure, and swallowed a great deal of it before the taste hit. When the foul potion had registered on her taste buds, she nearly broke the glass trying to put it to the farthest end of the bedside table, sputtering and hissing like a half drowned cat all the while. The extremely viscous liquid oozed down her throat and she could feel it quench the fires in her stomach almost immediately upon contact. Despite her anger at her situation, the quieting of her insides was a huge relief.

Still swaddled in the blanket, she slipped out of Rossi's bed and padded over to the chair by the bedroom window. Her clothes were all there, folded neatly and carefully. She felt a twinge of grateful forgiveness as she picked each article up, one by one, and laid them out on the coffee-cream colored sheets. She reluctantly shed the cozy blanket and began the awkward task of redressing herself after her most likely scandalous night. She scolded herself mercilessly and swore endless penance as she went about her work, trying not to think about what would happen once she emerged from that room until she was fully clothed again.

She lingered in the room, breathing in it's guilty scent, and casting her eyes about helplessly, hoping to find a unicorn or talking alarm clock to remind her this was all just a bad dream. But there was nothing there. This was her reality. She steeled her courage, and crept towards the bed room door. With once last glance behind her, she turned the brass knob and snuck out into the long, cold hallway.