It'd been a long day, and an even longer case, and you needed to unwind just a little.
When Hotch finally let you all head back to the hotel you were exhausted. But you knew even if you went to your room and tired to sleep you'd never get there. So you went straight to the bar and ordered a few drinks.
A half hour later she spotted you and moved in. You were hardly surprised when she seated herself right next to you and ordered. But you're not a rude person, so when she starts to talk to you, you talk back. Two shots later you're telling her you're an FBI agent and just like that you see lust grow ten fold in her eyes. Another shot later and you feel her leg brush your thigh. The bartender gives you a thumbs up, and you roll your eyes.
"Sorry babe," You mutter easily. You stand, swallow the last bit of your shot and leave both the bartender and the woman in confusion.
When you step into the elevator and punch in your room number you lose all thoughts of her. You just want to get to your room; you just want to end the day right.
When you open your door you see what kind of party's been going on in your room. Clothes are spewed about and your bed has been covered in books.
You roll your eyes, dropping the key to the desk. "Spencer!" You holler.
He pokes his head out of the bathroom and you see a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. "You're back!" he mumbles.
You smile. "You don't sound to happy."
He rolls his eyes at you, you both know he's always happy to see you. "Just wasn't expecting you so soon." He explains.
"So what happened it here. You forget we have to be packed and ready to go by 5 sharp tomorrow morning?" You cross your arms over your chest, attempting to look annoyed.
He shrugged, little Mr. Innocent, "I was looking for something."
You look around. "So you unpacked all of our bags."
"You didn't pack my good sleeping shirt did you?" Spencer says, shifting the toothbrush to the other side of his mouth.
You roll your eyes, "I already told you it was in the wash."
He glares at you for a long moment and just like that you know you're been caught.
"You better not have given it to Clooney."
You swallow hard. He weights probably fifty pounds less then you, he's got less muscle then you've got in one arm but you're a little afraid of him.
"I didn't give it too him…. he saw you always wearing it and just wanted something to remember you by when we were gone." You explain, "Just finish up, I'm tired and I want to get to bed."
He turns back to the bathroom, muttering something about getting a cat, so you turn to the bed. You debate with yourself for a few seconds wither to spend the time dividing all your things. Putting his book and clothing in his bags or just cramping things into bags.
Seconds later you're grabbing fist fulls of clothing and shoving them into bags. It doesn't really matter, they get unpacked in the same place. They'll end up in the same dressers and shelves anyways.
When he comes out, smelling all minty and clean, the bed's clear. You kick off your shoes as he climbs on, tucking himself under the sheets without waiting for you.
You're undoing you're jeans when he starts shivering.
"Come on, Derek, it's cold."
You roll your eyes because you know it's not. But…at the same time, you pull off your shirt then crawl in beside him.
"Goodnight," he mutters as he molds his body against yours.
You smile and settle an arm around his back. " 'Night."
And you know, in that instant…this is the only way you want your day to end.