She grimaced and cursed under her breath when the sun came up and shone right in her eyes. It wasn't even 7:00 yet. If she'd performed last night, she'd have barely crawled into bed by now. But she had purposely left the curtains open last night so she'd wake up this morning. She could never sleep once the room was light. She rolled over and tried, though. She hadn't been able to sleep much last night. She'd been too excited after seeing Spencer again. And kissing him. And knowing he wanted to see her again, too. She bear-hugged a pillow and snuggled back down under the covers, but that didn't last too long. So she dragged herself out of bed, put on a pot of coffee and hopped in the shower.

Padding back out to her kitchen, she poured a cup of coffee and sat down cross legged on her sofa. Saturday mornings have the shittiest TV, she complained to herself. Even the cartoons these days suck. Just once I'd like to hear someone tell that whiny, self-centered, bald-headed little brat Caillou to butch up and put on some big-boy panties 'cause no one actually cares about his tiny little Canadian feelings. The news shows weren't much better. They were full of whiny, balding old guys. So she opened up her laptop. Joe had answered her email.

Ha! And you didn't wanna go. Heard you even got to swap a little spit. You have my permission to name your firstborn Joseph. You're welcome.

She stuck her tongue out at the screen and fell victim to her old time-sucking habit of web surfing until it was nearly 10:00. And if she knew Spencer as she thought she did, he'd take, "call me anytime after 10 tomorrow," to mean, "call me between precisely 10:01 and 10:05." She jumped up and went to the bathroom to fix her hair. As she stood brushing her teeth, she looked at herself and started to laugh. For god's sake, it's a phone call; he won't even see you, Chris. She spit and heard her cell ring in the other room. She picked it up. 10:02. Called it!

"Hello?"

"Hello. It's Spencer."

"Yeah. I know. That's the magic of caller ID."

"Oh. Yes. Of course. Well, I wanted to thank you again for the lovely evening. I...um...to be honest, I...I really didn't want to go. But I'm very glad I did."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Joe had to work for days to convince me to show up."

"I imagine. I was standing right there when he called you. I could tell you were not enthusiastic about the idea."

"Ah. So is that why you felt the need to tell him I kissed you?" She smiled as his awkward stammering fell into uncomfortable silence. She felt a little guilty for messing with his mind and making him uneasy. But just a little.

"Oh. I... I guess I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry, Christine. It wasn't very gentlemanly of me."

He sounded so deflated by the idea of having affronted her, the poor guy. "Nah, no worries. Hey, if you hadn't told him, I probably would have. Besides, you guys brag to one another, am I right?"

"Ha. Not me. But then, I've never actually had anything to brag about. Not socially, anyway." He paused for a moment then continued, "so...may I still see you again sometime?"

"Sure. What are your plans today?"

"Today? Oh, wow, well, um, nothing, really. Nothing that can't wait, anyway."

"Great. So what say we meet at 1:00, then?"

"1:00? Oh, okay, sure. Shall I pick you up at your place, then?"

"That depends. You still driving that hideous old Swedish pile of shit?"

"Hey! That's a classic! And yes. I am."

"Then no. I'll pick you up. Text me your address and I'll see you at 1:00."

"Sounds good. I'll see you then."

"Oh, and Spencer?"

"Yes?"

"Dress down, alright? Like, way down."

"Oh. Um. Okay. Bye."

"Bye!"

She stood up, stretched and poured herself some more coffee before sitting back down in front of her computer. She flipped open the steno pad she carried with her and tried to flesh out some of her randomly scrawled notes into actual stories. Her phone chirped. He'd texted her his address. She smiled and fiddled around, trying to figure out how to save the number in her contacts. Goddammit, Joseph! There wasn't one fucking thing wrong with my old phone! He'd bought her a new cell, one so highly advanced neither of them could actually figure out how to really use it. But after swearing at it profusely and one attempt to choke it, she finally accomplished the feat. By that time, however, she was too frustrated by with the phone and too excited about seeing Spencer again that she couldn't write. So she picked her phone back up and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me. Would you be so kind as to put then man upon whom you permit yourself to waste oxygen on the phone?"

"Hey Chris. Sure. He's right here." And a moment later she heard, "Yep. What's up? Calling to thank me?"

"Not for this ridiculous phone, I'm not. I still hate this thing. Do you realize I just spent nearly 10 minutes of my life that I will never get back trying to enter a single contact?"

"Aw, poor little Gingersnap! And whose contact info were you trying to put in, I wonder?"

"You know full well whose. Out with it. What did he say to you?"

"Nothing. Just that you guys kissed."

"Come on…"

"Really. That's it. And that it was good. It was just a text."

"He said it was good?"

"What are you, 13? Yeah. That's what he said. So…you ready to apologize for giving me shit for this?"

"Ach…yeah. Sorry. But how was I supposed to know?"

"You should have trusted me. Gotta say, though, I was a little disappointed it didn't go better."

"Go better? It was amazing! We had a lot of fun!"

"Yeah…no. What you had was a little fun. A lot of fun would have been if you too had hooked up."

"Dude, I know we're friends, but you're still my brother, which makes discussing this with you all sorts of creepy."

"Yeah, like you're Miss Manners. But I know this- both of you seriously need to get laid."

"Joseph!"

"See that? Right there. Bitchtastic. And God knows that boy is wound up tighter than an eight-day clock. You should help him out with that…"

"You're such a perv."

"Yes I am, but it doesn't mean I'm not right! When you gonna see him again?"

"At one."

"Today?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my advice is to take an extra pair of panties with in case he want to keep yours as a souvenir."

"Shut up!"

"And remember to use protection!"

"Bye!"

She stood up and paced for a bit. Her brother was such a pig. But what bothered her even more was that he was right. Spencer was so…God she just wanted to lick that boy like a lollipop! She wondered, though, how long it would take him to get a clue. She downed the last of her coffee then went to throw on a t-shirt and jeans. As she was leaving the bedroom she stopped, turned, and flipped the light back on. She rummaged through one of her drawers checking tags until she found the size she was looking for, stuffed it in her purse, and got herself out the door.


Back in his apartment, Spencer sighed heavily. Dress down. What does that even mean? He shook his head and put on something that seemed casual enough to him. As he was buttoning up his shirt, he heard a knock on the door. He looked through the peephole and saw only what he presumed to be a hand covering it. He opened it and said, "Two questions: first, why would you cover the peephole, and second, how did you get up here?"

"Good afternoon to you, too," she replied, walking in uninvited. "Better question- who else were you expecting today that necessitated you even needing to look?" She sat down on his sofa and smiled.

"Please. Make yourself at home, Christine," he muttered. "You do remember what I told you I do for a living, correct? We find and apprehend criminals who are often extremely dangerous and violent, and some of them are also disturbingly intelligent, as well. Sometimes, they come after us. We've had agents stalked and even attacked in their own homes."

"Pfft. I can't imagine you having an enemy in the world. You're entirely too nice. And to answer your second question, I saw someone walk up to the door with keys in his hand, so I played the some-dumb-chick-who-can't-find-my-keys card and he held the door for me. Easy."

"And that's precisely why I have to be careful, because obviously my neighbors are not."

She acted as if she hadn't heard him and instead asked, "So that's what you're wearing?"

"This is okay, right?"

"I'm guessing that's just an outfit you wear to work, minus the tie. You don't have any jeans?"

"No. I don't."

"Yeah…my father doesn't either. But he's in his sixties. You're 24. What's your excuse?"

"I'm 23 still, actually."

"And no jeans. Jeez. Nice shoes, though. What are those, Ferragamo?"

"Yes."

"Sweet. Expensive, but sweet. Marilyn Monroe swore by them."

"I wasn't aware."

"So no sneakers, either?"

"No."

"Uh huh." She grinned up at him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He sighed. "What?"

"Nothing! I'm just a little jealous, that's all. It's not easy to be seen in out in public with a guy who's far prettier than I am."

He made a face.

She opened her purse and pulled out the t-shirt she'd grabbed. She tossed it to him and said, "Put this on. It'll make me feel a little less self-conscious."

He turned to leave the room when she said, "Where are you going?"

"To change."

"Seriously? You know, I've seen bare-chested men before, right?"

He stopped for a moment and answered, "Well, today you don't get to see mine until you've bought me dinner."

"Wow! Sassy!" She laughed and waved him away.

He returned after a moment wearing the t-shirt she'd given them. "How is this? Better? And what is CSULB, anyway? I'm not familiar…"

"'California State University at Long Beach'. I play a lot of college campuses and they always give me souvenirs, but they don't always get the sizes right." While she was saying this, she'd started laughing so hard that by the time she finished she was in tears. "And you'll never guess what their nickname is."

"Not a clue."

She was wiping tears from her cheeks when she said, "They're the Dirtbags. Swear to God! They're the Long Beach Dirtbags! So no matter what title you give yourself or however respectable your job is, today everyone will think you're just a Dirtbag!"

"I can't believe you're such a brat! I'm taking this off…"

She jumped up and caught him as he was leaving to change. "No! Please leave it on. It's funny!"

"You did this on purpose."

"No, it's just a happy coincidence! Oh come on. Honestly now, when I grabbed that I was only looking at the tag. I didn't even think about the logo. Come on…" She had grabbed him around the waist and was holding him there, but she could see his anger at her fading away.

"One thing though, sweetheart. You can't go out with this tucked in. For once, try acting your age, wouldja?" She started pulling the shirt out and looked up at him with a smile, her hands still on his waist. He leaned down and kissed her for what seemed at the time like a very long while.

"You just called me 'sweetheart'," he said softly. "I like that."

"Good."

"May I say the same to you, too?"

"You may call me whatever you like."

"Thank you."

"Come on, now. There's something I have to show you." She took his hand. As they walked out the door, she remarked, "You're gonna be sorry you wore those shoes."

When they got to the street she stopped, and Spencer's jaw dropped. "This is yours?" he asked.

"Just got it."

"Where'd you find it?"

"I know a guy. His wife's aunt's husband died, and when they were helping her get his stuff ready for auction they found this back in the barn under a tarp. He got her running but his wife wanted the money off it. So I made him a respectable offer. Gotta have her repainted though. It's hard to take a pony car seriously when it's robin's egg blue."

"What have you got in mind?"

"I'm thinking dark metallic blue. Can you see it? This car will be so mean it'll look like it wants to kick your ass. Can you handle four on the floor?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Then head's up." She tossed him the keys, which he fumbled. As he stooped to pick them up, she added, "That's reassuring. Get in the car, Slick. Let's see if you can handle the car better than the keys."

She walked started to get in when he said, "Wait!"

"What?"

"Allow me," he opened the door for her. She got in and smirked as he ran over to the driver's side, giggling like a school boy.

He turned the engine over and let out a deep sigh of appreciation. "Man, that is beautiful."

"I know, right? She doesn't purr so much as she growls like an hungry tiger."

"V-8?"

"You think I'd buy a Mustang with anything less? What kind of a fool do you take me for?"

"'66?"

"Good eye," she said, as he backed up. "Easy now, she's got some giddy-up to her- damn, Spencer!" she cried as he pulled out into traffic, throwing her back into the seat.

"Whoa. You did not lie!"

"No shit. Now, take I-66 out of town. I'll tell you where to get off."

"Where are we going?"

"I'll tell you when we get there."

About an hour later they were making their way down some back roads south of Manassas when she said, "Take the next left. And bear in mind that this area is unincorporated, so after you make the turn, feel free to dump the clutch and turn her lose. The way she feels running at full honk is indescribable."

"I've already told you you're a terrible influence, correct?"

"Don't be such a puss. Besides, doesn't that badge come with a Get Out of Jail Free card?"

"No, it most certainly does not. And if I get charged with reckless driving, I can lose my job."

"Do it…you know you wanna."

"No."

"Puuuussss…pusspusspusspusspuss…"

"Stop."

"If you act naughty, I promise I'll spank you!"

"That's tempting…"

"Really? Ooh, Spencer, you freak! Do it!"

After they made the turn, he pushed the car up to 70 briefly before easing off the accelerator. "Happy?"

"Meh," she replied, and then, "Hey, see that driveway up on the right? Turn down there."

They made their way down a long gravel drive. Eventually, the trees cleared and they came to a stop in front of a large, rundown greek revival home. She got out. He turned off the engine and joined her.

"So- what do you think?"

"I think…if this were October, it would make an excellent haunted house. Very creepy. What do you think?"

She smiled and said as she started up the steps to the veranda, "I think it's mine."

"You're considering buying it?" he asked as he followed her.

"No. I'm done considering it. As of last week it's been bought and paid for."

"You're serious?"

"As a heart attack. Hand me those keys." She opened the door and invited him in. "Yeah, I know. Don't tell me what it looks like now. Look around and imagine what it could look like."

He stood for a long moment and looked around. There were cracked and missing tiles on the foyer floor. Rotting crown molding. Peeling paint and wallpaper. Broken panes of glass. But that could be repaired. The staircases on either side of the foyer were grand. The wooden floors in the front parlor only needed refinishing. From where he stood, he could see two marble fireplaces in opposite rooms that would be gracious and inviting once cleaned. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I can see it. Are you sure you want to put all the effort and expense into it, though?"

"The deal is done. I wouldn't have closed on it if I wasn't sure. But that's not the best part. Come here!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the house and out the back door. Off to one end of the house, she pointed to a pair of doors on the ground. "Know what that is?"

"A storm shelter."

"Mmm, that's more of a tornado alley thing. I think around here they'd refer to it as a root cellar. Very useful for storing all sorts of things. Or hiding them."

"I didn't know you were so passionate about gardening."

"I'm not. But potatoes weren't all they kept down there."

"I'm listening."

"When I was first looking at the house, I found an old chest in the attic with some very old diaries. So I got a flashlight and went spelunking. And I saw some very interesting things scratched into the walls down there."

He paused and turned to her. "Wait. Are you serious?"

"Everything appears to be of the time period. If authentic, this was a stop on the Underground Railroad."

"But what brought you out to even look at this place? Did you suspect it?"

"Not at all. It belonged to an old bachelor cousin of my grandmother. When he passed, she was his last living relative. None of my siblings or cousins had the resources, inclination or ability to relocated that I had. And grandma and grandpa offered it to me at a helluva price."

"Now I understand the attraction." Before studying geology at MIT, where they'd met, she'd studied history at the University of Chicago. It was her first love. She never could have passed up the chance to own a piece of it.

She put her arms around him. "Yeah, you get it. You know how crazy I am."

"I do," he said. "But you know how much I like crazy. I do crazy for a living." He leaned down and kissed her. He found her childlike giddiness over something so…nerdy…simply adorable.

"So. That's it. That's my house. I've found a contractor. He assures me of two things. First, that this place is destined to be an endless money pit, and second, that it should be minimally inhabitable by late summer. Which is perfect, because that's when my lease is up. You hungry?"

"Yeah, I am, actually."

"Then let me buy you a late lunch. See if you can catch 'em this time," she teased, tossing him the keys. He caught them. As he turned back towards the house, he felt a hard slap across his backside and spun around. "I told you I'd spank you if you were naughty. But you weren't too naughty, so that's all you get."


Spencer looked past over her shoulder at his watch. It was 5:47. "Hey now!" he laughed, as she kissed his neck. "That tickles! Chris, you know it's five- hey! Listen, it's-" She shut him up by kissing him on the lips again. "You know it's…stop for a moment!" He leaned back away from her and smiled. "The forest preserve closes at 6:00pm. We don't have much time left. We should consider-" She cut him off again.

"Oh, could you try not to be a cop for just a little while?" She smiled mischievously at him as she moved her hand from his hip up under his shirt.

"I just thought you should know." Her hand felt so good against his bare back. "But I guess we can stay a little longer…" He leaned over to kiss her back and wondered if he should try to put his hand under her shirt, or if he'd get slapped for trying. He wished he were as bold as her.

"You know, turns out there's a lot you miss out on in high school when you graduate before you hit puberty. Like making out in cars."

"I never thought about it like that," he replied. "But it's still a lot of fun to do now." He leaned back in and put his hand on her thigh, having resolved to attempt the same hand-under-the-shirt move she'd used on him. And then he felt a buzzing in his pocket. "Son of a bitch!"

He fished his phone out of his pocket and looked at it while she grumbled, "Oh, don't mind me. No please. Answer your phone. I don't mind waiting at all."

It was work. Of course it was. "Sorry…" He flipped it open to answer the call, "This is Reid…Okay…I understand…Where's the case?...I can be there by then, yes…Alright. Bye." He snapped his phone shut and sighed, then looked over at Christine. "I don't suppose you can drop me off at Quantico?"

"Gee, you get to deal with dark, depressing, gruesome and grizzly shit all week and on Saturday nights? Your job doesn't suck at all!" She looked at him again and felt sorry for saying it. He was as disappointed as she, and she'd just made him feel worse. "Yeah, I can take you. Sorry for snapping. Get out. I'll drive." After they'd gotten back in the car she turned to him again and said, "You sure you don't want me to take you home first? I'm not sure, but I'm guessing that shirt isn't exactly FBI regulation work attire."

He'd all but forgotten he was wearing it. "No. It's okay," he said, as they pulled out onto the highway. "I always keep a few changes clothes at work. We have to always be ready to travel and don't always know when we'll be returning. Speaking of which, when I do get back, may I see you again?"

She laughed. "You don't have to ask every time, you know. And of course you may. Provided you're back by Tuesday. I have to leave early Wednesday."

"Oh? Where will you be going?"

"Catching a flight to Chicago. Going to spend Easter weekend with the family."

"Oh. That sounds like fun."

"Nah, not really. It'll probably primarily involve my father asking me if I've decided to take my licensing exam so I can finally get a real job because he can't accept I'm actually making a living doing what I do, cooking with my mother and being told I'm doing it all wrong, and skillfully avoiding dealing with the Colonel."

"So Wes is still in the Marines."

"Just made lieutenant colonel. Or so my mother tells me. It's always fun to go home and be made to feel like a loser in all aspects of life…"

He stared at his hands for a moment, at a loss for words. "I'm sorry. That they make you feel like that, I mean. You're not, of course…a loser that is…"

"Don't be. For the most part, I have a pretty thick skin. And in a way, I can understand my father's thinking. I mean, he worked his whole life to send me to college. And I've repaid him by getting a job making fun of him in front of strangers."

He chuckled. "Well, when you put it like that…I guess I may be on your dad's side."

"Jerk."

"I'm kidding!"

"So am I. Anyway, after that, I'm back on the road for another four weeks. Joe and I head for Minneapolis next Tuesday, and we finish up in at UCSD April 22. Then I'm pretty much home for the summer!"

She sounded so excited to be going back to work again, but he felt as though he'd just been punched in the stomach. I hadn't occurred to him that she'd be leaving so soon and for so long. "So it sounds like this was just a break for you?"

"Pretty much, yeah. I've mostly been touring college campuses this spring, so I got to take spring break, too! But I have a lot to do with the house this summer and I seriously need time to work on some new material, so I begged Joe to let me take a few months off after that. It'll be the first time in years that's happened. I'm both looking forward to it and dreading it. I'm not entirely sure I'll know what to do with myself with so much time on my hands."

"Yeah. I understand. Well, maybe, we could find some things to do together. If you want to, I that is," he suggested shyly.

They stopped at an intersection and she turned to him. Placing her hand on his thigh, she gave him a little squeeze and said, "That sounds fan-freaking-tastic. I can't wait."

He smiled. "Take a right up here, and have your ID ready at the gate."

A few moments later they pulled up in front of the Hoover Building. "This is you," she announced.

"Thanks for the ride. And for the afternoon. And the lunch. I hope I can see you again before you leave."

"Me too. Wait!" she said, grabbing his arm as he started to get out. "Come back here." She pulled him back and gave him one last kiss. "Now you may leave. Be safe."

"Thank you. You too." He watched as she pulled off and went up to his floor. When the elevator doors opened, he went quickly to his desk and grabbed his go-bag and left again to go change his shirt.

Watching him with curiosity, Garcia remarked, "Gee, I never knew he was a Dirtbag."

"Garcia! That's mean! He didn't look that bad," JJ laughed.

"Oh! No! I mean Long Beach. That's their nickname. Seriously. Hey, I know things, too!"

"I'm just surprised he has any t-shirt. I was starting think Pretty Boy slept in a shirt and tie," Morgan added, his eyebrows raised.

Stepping out of his office, Hotch called down, "Was that Reid? Good. Then we're all here. When he gets back, have him come up. We need to get started."

"I'm here, I'm here," Spencer said, hurrying back into the bullpen. He stashed his bag under his desk and ran up the stairs, still tying his tie. They all smothered a laugh when he caught himself clumsily after tripping from trying to do two things at once.

"Come on, get in there," Morgan said, slapping him on the back. "And sit down before you hurt yourself."


Monday night found Christine on the phone in her apartment saying, "Well, yeah Joe, I saw him Saturday. I told you."

"And…?"

"And what? That's it. I took him out to see the farm. I think he appreciated it. Or at least, he appreciated why I appreciate it."

"That's it?"

"We had a late lunch, found a quiet place to park to spend a little quality alone time, and then he got called into work."

"So you didn't…"

"No, perv. We did not. He was a perfect gentleman. Well, almost."

"How almost?"

"That is none of your damned business, Joseph, so just leave it alone, okay? You know, I don't see the need to rush it, and I'm not going to push the issue. If he wants it, he'll have to make the move."

"Hey, I just want you to be happy. And I don't think he's exactly a hit it and quit it kind of guy, know what I mean? Or is it that you're not sure?"

"Me, I could lick that man like a lollipop if I thought he wanted me too. But then, I've never in my vast dating experience known a guy who even wanted a second date with me, or I with him, for that matter. So this is sort of uncharted territory for me."

"So when are you going to see him again?"

"I dunno. I told him if he's home by tomorrow we could go out. But it seems like he's at the mercy of his job. So it may just have to be a while."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Mmmhmm. Very briefly last night. He sounded dead tired. Anyway, getting back to the reason I called…so you and that beautiful lady who is way too good for you will be at my place around 8ish?"

"Yeah, that's the plan."

"Good. So then we can get a- hold on. I've got a call. Just a sec," she held out her phone and checked the ID. "Hot damn, it's him. I'm gonna answer it, so just hang up, 'cause I don't know how to do all that yet on this piece of crap, okay?"

"K. Call me tomorrow."

She hung up and said, "Hello?" There was no answer. Dammit! I hung up on the wrong one! "Hello?"

"Hi, Christine?"

"Hey, you! Sorry I was just getting rid of Joe on the other line."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. Did you need to get back to him?"

"God, no. I talk to him entirely too much as it is. So how are you?"

"I'm well, thank you. And relieved."

"Case going well?"

"Actually, the case is solved. We apprehended the suspect an hour ago. But it's late, so we're not leaving for home until tomorrow morning. Which is the primary reason I'm relieved."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I…well…I was very surprised when you told me you'd be going out of town, and I was hoping we'd have the chance to see one another again before you leave. So now it looks like we can. Provided you want to, that is."

"Yeah, sure. Of course I do. Was there anything you had in mind to do, or shall we just play it by ear."

"Ha. I'm not exactly one to play things by ear."

"You always were the hyper-organized sort. Well, you make whatever plans you like, and just let me know. I'm pretty much down for anything."

"Just to clarify- that does mean you're open to different ideas, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sweetheart. That's what that means."

"Oh, good. I got it right. I don't always keep abreast of current slang like I should."

"Eh, I consider it part of your charm."

"Well, that's fortunate. I think most people find it makes me strange and somewhat off-putting. It's refreshing to hear someone finds it charming."

"I do. You know," she said with a laugh, "I was just telling Joe that you're the first guy that I've ever met whom I not only wanted to see again, but who was also willing to see me again. So I think that's something we share in common- we can enjoy one another's company even if no one else can."

"Perhaps you're correct. So, how has your day been?"

"Mildly productive. I wrote some today. Watched some video of myself. Made notes on that. Joe's got a few guys he'd like me to consider as openers on my tour this fall, so I watched video of them. Stuff like that. Oh! And I found out my contractor also creates stained glass windows. He does really amazing, original things of his own design. It's quite impressive. Anyway, the great thing about that is he'll be able to repair a few that I have on the house. It won't come cheap, but it'll be done right. I'm telling you, that place will be amazing when I'm done with it. It'll be like stepping into a time machine, but with electricity, hot water and central heat and air."

"Well, then I must say I'm disappointed in you. That last part sounds terribly anachronistic."

"Bite me."

He chuckled. "Well, I should be off work at a reasonable hour tomorrow. So may I pick you up at 7:00?"

"Sounds fantastic! I'll see you then!"

"Alright then. Good bye."

"Good night, Spencer. Sweet dreams."


Alone in his hotel room, he flipped his phone shut and laid back on the bed. He stared for a while up at the ceiling, still holding his phone against his chest. She had called him sweetheart again. And she had slapped his ass and made out with him in a muscle car just two days prior. He groaned to himself. He was ready to go much further with her. But he just wasn't sure she was ready, too. He didn't want rush her. And he knew he wouldn't be able to endure the rejection if she turned him down now. He considered asking Morgan for advice and quickly decided against it. He'd probably laugh at him for being so clueless about women. He sighed, then took off his glasses and tossed them on the nightstand along with his phone. Switching off the lamp, he rolled over, grabbed the extra bed pillow and held it in a bear hug. It was one of those rare times at which he found he'd rather dream than stay up reading.


He pressed the buzzer next to her name.

"Hello?"

"It's Spencer." He heard the buzz and opened the gate. He tried to walk slowly up to her floor; his heart seemed ready to beat out of his chest. He was about to knock on her door when it swung open.

"There you are!" Without further words she threw her arms around him for a kiss.

After a long moment he said, "Yes, and you really should be more-"

"Oh, hush up and get in here!" She pulled him in and shut the door behind him. "So, what's the plan?"

"Well, I hope Indian is alright…"

"You mean dinner? Sure. I have a stomach of iron, a sense of adventure and a taste for the exotic. Let's do it. What shall I wear?"

He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Not…that." She was in gym shorts and a t-shirt.

"So clue me in. Do I need to wear a dress?"

He knew she had issues with dresses and skirts and only wore them when no other attire was appropriate. So as much as he liked to see her legs he answered, "I guess dress-casual is appropriate."

"Done!" She hurried down the hall to her room to change and left him to examine her living room. It was sparse in terms of proper furniture. There was a large TV on a cheap stand, an expensive stereo, and books stacked on the floor beside towers of DVDs and CDs. The only wall decorations were a corkboard covered with Post-It notes and post cards and a framed poster of Jimi Hendrix that had seen better days.

"Good enough?" She held her arms out. She was wearing a plain white blouse and dark gray slacks. She wasn't wearing sneakers.

"Sure. Ferragamo shoes?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Hey, at least I can afford them. But I refuse to wear heals. I'm short and proud, dammit."

"Sure. But you know, Marilyn Monroe wore them."

After dinner, she invited him back to her place for coffee. And he had…coffee. After pouring him a cup she snuggled against him on the sofa. "I'm really glad you made it back tonight."

"So am I. Christine?"

"Hmm?"

"I just…I mean…I think you should know…well…while you're gone, I won't be thinking of seeing anyone else. Socially, that is."

"I see. And I presume you're telling me this primarily because you're hoping I'll make a similar pledge to you?" She sat up and looked at him with a smile. He became flustered and avoided eye contact.

"Hey, now, look at me," she ordered. "And listen up. I've had a thing for you for years. Also, I'm leaving for work. I'm going to go do my job, not look for a hook-up. This is what I do. Can you accept that?"

She held his face between her hands and stared at him. "Yes," he answered.

"Okay, then. Now try and loosen up a little before I've got to throw you out…"

They kissed and giggled for another 15 or 20 minutes. She managed to pull his tie off and attempted to leave a mark on his neck before he stopped her. He ran the palm of his hand up her side and felt the swell of her breast before cautiously moving his thumb over. He was sure that, beneath her bra, her nipple was erect. And she didn't pull away…

But the night ended with a long kiss at the door before he walked out into another cool, dark night.


A/N added 4/29/2016

"Caillou" is a Canadian-produced children's cartoon that is no longer in syndication in the US, but would have been in 2005. My kid used to watch that show. If you have not seen it, my advice to you is: don't. It's super annoying.

The car referenced here is a 1966 Ford Mustang. "Four on the floor" is a reference to the manual transmission available on some models. This model, as described, had the largest available engine in it. I have driven a car like this (albeit one with an automatic transmission). If you ever have the chance to do so yourself, take it. It is amazing. It's such an obnoxiously large engine for a fairly small car that the moment you touch the gas it just flies away. Beware of whiplash. I wrote this assuming this in not Christine's primary vehicle- a classic car like this is something one buys to collect, not to use for running errands.

I envision Christine's home to be located near the small town of Bristow, Virginia. It's a rural area that actually would be closer to Quantico than Washington, DC is.