Okay, I don't own anything to do with the perfection that is CM or any of its affiliations. I do, however, have the pleasure of owning my OC, Charlotte. Hope you enjoy the story - and have a great day!
Charlotte POV
Rapidly, I packed my Go-Bag, which in reality was nothing more than a large duffel bag, with the BAUs insignia imprinted on each of the circular ends, with all of my essentials. I crammed in pairs upon pairs of matching clean underwear, tights and leggings for comfort, pyjamas and a multitude of overtly large tees and ribbed vest tanks, so I can spend the days relaxed and comfortable, but still be dressed appropriately for the workplace.
Considering we were travelling to Alaska, which is predominantly a outrageously cold area, so I packed extra thick clothing, like socks, the jumpers and thermal undershirts, to keep myself insulated throughout the days we would spend there. I hadn't a clue how long we would be going, but I packed enough clothes to last a week and some change.
Taking care, I double checked that all of my proper toiletries were in a separate, smaller zip-up bag, containing my toothbrush, toothpaste, wet wipes, make-up and moisturiser, alongside spare pairs of shoes and slippers, just in case. I knew the plane ride would be long, so I crammed in an undersized pillow, for the sleep that I would undoubtedly take on the way there.
Dutifully, I packed my medication, and, just to be on the safe side, I took two of the insipid capsules, once again grimacing at the bland taste.
"What else can I pack?," I mused, aloud, and when I couldn't think of anything, I went about showering and dressing for the jet ride. I washed and blow-dried my locks, then intertwined the thick strands in a fish plait and pulled it over my shoulder. Quickly, I threw on a pair of dark coloured underwear, matching black leggings, and an off-the-shoulder, deep purple oversized sweater, that hung off my body, and went clean past my hands, so I had to roll up the sleeves a few times before I could see my fingers.
As quickly as I was able, I brushed my teeth and wiped away and reapplied my makeup, only less dramatically this time, and ended up with light mascara on my top and bottom layer of lashes, and a thin strip of eyeliner along the top lid. I rubbed cherry scented lip balm onto my chapped mouth, followed by a light sweeping of bronzer along my cheekbones.
After pulling my black, thick framed glasses onto my face, I glanced at the digital clock on my bedside table, and saw that it had just turned 5, I pulled on cream Converse onto my feet, after putting on white sneaker socks. Casually, I draped my bag on the nearest sofa, and switched on the television onto the music channel, and whilst I made myself a speedy, pick-me-up meal, I sang along to the songs being played.
Distractedly, I prepared a few slices of toast, and was in the midst of buttering them, when I heard an urgent knocking at my door, and it surprised me, as I wasn't expecting Morgan for another.. Twenty minutes, or so. I glanced in the peep hole, and upon seeing his face, covered with dark shaded sunglasses and I swung open the door, while lilting, "You're a little eager, aren't you?"
He grinned, wolfishly, at me, and stepped around me, inside of my home. He reclined in the one of the chairs, and commented, "Nice house, it's pretty cool here."
I smirked, and replied, coolly, "Thanks, I couldn't have done it without Ledger and Cade, they were total lifesavers."
He nodded, clearly half listening, and he stated, "Well we have to be at the airport in half an hour, so take you time, I'll take your bag outside into the car, okay?"
I nodded, thankful, and he did just that. By the time he had come back in, I had just finished my second piece of toast, and was washing up the plate in the sink. He scoffed, "This feels highly domestic, don't you think?"
Silently chuckling, I wiped the now soaking wet plate of its excess water, and I pushed it into its designated cupboard, before wiping my hands on a spare cloth, and checking my reflection in the rectangular mirror above the fireplace on the far side of the living room.
"You ready to go?," Morgan asked, teasingly. Wistfully, I smiled, and stepped over to him, and he entwined our arms together, and I lay my head on his impressively large bicep. He smirked down at me, and walked me over to his car, even going so far as to open the door for me to reclined into.
"Thank you, Morgan," and I slid in, onto the beat, caramel coloured leather passenger seat.
The drive was smooth and fairly quiet, however, the traffic made it incredible difficult to stay on schedule, so, understandably, Morgan got a little frustrated.
"Damn it!," he yelled out the driver side window, "Watch where you're driving, jack ass!"
An angry honking was the only response he got, and he growled, exasperatedly. He glowered in my direction, and apologised, "I have terrible road rage, apparently."
Sarcastically, I pursed my lips, then raised an eyebrow, completely believing his words, and went back to staring out of the window, and asked, interestedly, "What's your story?"
He glanced at me out of his peripherals, and replied, "Nothing, if I'm being honest. I decided to join the force when I was 19, got in by 22, then the BAU 10 years after that. I know, I don't look it, huh?"
Slackly, I shook my head, shock painting itself onto my expression, and he rolled his eyes, for the hundredth time. He retorted, "What about you?"
Noncommittally, I shrugged, and replied, dryly, "There not much else to say about me, that you don't already know. I grew up in New Orleans, then I lived in New York with my adoptive family, they died a few years ago. I used to work the NYPD, obviously, and now I'm with the BAU."
Other than a small shrug, he showed no other sign of, well, anything, and continued driving, with wild abandon, ripping through the now clear streets, like his life depended on it. I tightened my grip on the edge of the seat, and dug my nails into the lining of the material, leaving small, half crescent shapes in the fabric. I wailed, "Do you want to go any faster, Marty McFly? We're almost breaking the sound barrier!"
He laughed, loudly, and whooped in the rushing air. He was a typical man when it came to speed and muscle cars, but I, on the other hand, could do without the impending head trauma that a collision would cause.
Eventually, as we pulled into the busy intersection, leading towards the airport, he was forced to slow down, otherwise face immediate charges of reckless endangerment and the breaking of the speed limit, thrice over.
With a triumphant grin, he observed, "And with 6 minutes to spare. I. Am. So. Good."
A grimace graced my features, and I shoved his shoulder, playfully, receiving nothing but a toothy smirk in return. He shrugged, "Don't deny it, mama, ain't nobody else could've done what I just did!," his Chicagoan accent flaring with every word he spoke.
Shakily, I slid out of the vehicle of doom, and went around to the trunk, ready to pull out my bag, however Morgan beat me to it, and handed it to me, in a sign of good faith. I smiled, appreciatively, and all was forgiven. It was strange, but I couldn't ever stay mad at him for long.
He hooked our arms together, once more, and he led us both towards the tunnel which would lead us to their private jet. Grinning to myself, I twirled the ends of the fish plait in my hair with my free hand, and fixed the glasses on my face. He glanced down at me, and I decided that this case was going to be something of an interesting one.