It was late-ish when Riggs got a text.

Hi. It's Palmer. I'm at the Madagaskar, room 412 and I'm kinda hungry so if you want to come by with an overload of food that's totally okay. You choose what to eat.

Okay, wow.

30 seconds later, next text arrived.

Unless you're busy of course. Anyway, I'm available.

He looked around the bullpen. He was more or less the only one left before the night shift came in, as usual. He stared at the phone screen again. This was a booty call, wasn't it? Shit.

It had been a week since he last saw Palmer, or rather a week since he waved her off after they had kissed in the elevator, totally not noticing when the lift stopped at the ground floor or when it was continuing further down in the basement. Only the ding had teared them apart and then Scorsese was standing there looking at them. Riggs' whole body had tingled with a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. Going up again, he sneaked a glance at Palmer by his side and she was blushing slightly. That vision created another new feeling. What was it? Pride? Joy? Lust? Or a mix of all those elements? Anyway, he had felt alive and it felt good.

Then she left for DC and he thought that was it, a brief but awesome encounter with a fine and funny lady who could handle herself and someone he tried hard to not think so much about. Well, it was fucking impossible not to think about her now. Riggs heart was doing a mile a minute. He should probably answer, right? Or should he just show up? What was the right protocol here? Not that he'd never gotten booty calls before. He had, when he was young and stupid and what did it matter now how he had dealt with them then. They had never mattered like this one. Because Palmer was more than a booty call, she was a new friend and a friend he wanted to keep, but he would be lying to himself if she also wasn't a friend he'd like to get to know better, in any form…

That kiss had held a promise of something more and he wanted it. He wanted to make her blush again, smile at him again and he wanted her to make his pain a little more bearable. Because that was the truth, every time she was in the same room as him, he forgot all about his past. It was like she sucked all the foul smell of grief out of him and his body and soul chose to follow her sweet scent instead. And she did smell nice and looked real nice… He sighed. There was only one thing to do.

Okay. Be there within an hour.

No matter what would come out of this, Palmer was a lady friend and his lady friend was hungry and he was raised a southern gentleman so he would bring her food, dammit.

After picking up burgers at his favorite drive-in and after searching a least 10 minutes for a free parking space, he was walking in through the hotel reception. That was then he started thinking about what he was wearing. But you know what, Palmer could take it or leave it. It would have taken him an hour to get home to change and he was just swinging by to bring her food and he changed to this black shirt yesterday anyway and it had to be okay. Once alone in the elevator up to the 4th floor, he took a sniff of himself. Yeah, it was good enough. Then, as he was walking down the long corridor another thought hit him, condoms. Fuck. He should probably have acquired that, shouldn't he? But still, maybe this was just eating together… Damn, he was nervous. He hated it when Roger was right, or well, not hating it, but it was annoying and yes, he was a teeny tiny afraid right now. Ugh, get it together, you idiot.

The number 412 stared him in the face which he gave a good slap before releasing a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding and shook his shoulders loose before he knocked on the door.

The door opened quickly and there she was, looking as stunning as ever in a white shirt and tight jeans that highlighted her best feature. And she was smiling at him, a big smile. Yeah, he could do this.

"Hi!"

"Hi yourself. LA's best burgers," he said with a slight tremble to his voice and held out the bag for her.

"Thanks! Come in." Palmer took the bag and gestured to him to enter.

"Okay," he grunted before he cleared his throat, smiled at her and stepped into her room. It was spacious, like a suit and he wondered how she could afford it. Or was the DEA paying for it? He felt out of place and Palmer noticed.

"Relax, I'll make sure you don't break anything," she winked at him and put the food on the weird-looking coffee table.

"Eh, I'm sure I can handle myself, thank you very much," he quipped back with a smile and started to take off his jacket. He felt warm.

"Sounds good." She was leaning against an armchair scrutinizing him with that smirk of hers. Riggs shifted his weight and slung the jacket over his shoulder, not sure how to continue this.

"So…"

"So…" Palmer pushed off the chair and took the three steps up to where he was standing. With a hand on her hip and the other reaching out to fiddle with a loose button on his shirt, she looked up at him and asked "You wanna eat or do something else first?"