Author's Note: Hmmm...So it's been almost three years since I updated this. Uhh...I'm sorry? Not sure if you can really apologize for that kind of story abandonment. But if you can, and if any of the same readers are out there: I'm sorry. And enjoy!

The next morning, Eric rolled over, cracking one eye open. He surveyed the damage of the past day's and night's events. Aside from the clothes strewn about, only a few lampshades, a couple dresser drawers, and a chair or two needed fixing… Chuckling to himself, he

turned his attention from the room to Hart, still sleeping peacefully next to him. She woke slowly to feeling of his hands running through her hair.

"Matthews," she murmured, still half asleep. "It's early. I don't want to play beauty shop right now."

"I can't help it Hart," he said,"I'm just amazed…your hair, it's still…perfect. After all this, it still looks good. So I just gotta ask…if you leave it alone and it looks like this, what the hell were you doing to it before?"

"Having wild sex with a biker gang," she muttered into the pillow, rolling over. "Now let me sleep." He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

"Oh yeah?" he said, pressing kisses onto her back. "And how were they?" Through the haze which still filled her head this early in the morning, Hart debated her options on how to answer to the question. Finally, she rolled back over to face him, pulling him to her with a kiss.

"Not as good as you, Matthews. Never as good as you."

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The next thing Eric knew, the red light of his alarm clock was flashing an insistent 10:45 directly in his face. The persistent glow was enough to inspire him to sit up, disentangling himself from Grace and reaching for the clock. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, hitting the buttons. "We are in trou-ble." Hart shifted softly in her sleep and he looked down at her. "Worth it," he nodded,"But in trouble."

As if on cue, Matthews' cell phone began ringing insistently from across the room…from wherever he had left his pants. Hoping to catch it before it woke Hart, he began searching the room for the ring.

"Matthews," he greeted, finally seizing upon the offending device.

"Matthews," MacDonald's voice shot across the airwaves, gruff and annoyed as usual. "You're late. I give you time off and this is the kind of responsibility you show."

"Uh, yes, sir, just having a little trouble with my uh, … electricity this morning. Won't happen again," Eric tried to cover discreetly. "Certainly not."

"Good," MacDonald shot back,"I should hope not. Oh and Matthews-"

"Yes sir."

"You haven't seen Hart by chance, have you?"

"Uh, no sir, certainly haven't--"

"I'm having Margaret page her now."

"Oh, uh--" Before Matthews could act, Hart's beeper went off across the room, blaring. Eric shot after it, tossing the discarded clothes in search of the betraying noise.

"Matthews, that wouldn't happen to be what I think it is, would it?" MacDonald's voice, even and firm with growing annoyance, came across the line, accompanied by smothered snickers in the background. Shit, Eric cursed.

"Uh, I'm not sure sir, but um, I'm on speaker phone, aren't I captain?"

"Eric?" Gracie called out sleepily at that moment, "Eric, what're you doing?"

"Correction," MacDonald spoke,"You're both on speaker phone. Agents, I want you in here A.S.A.P."

Click. Eric dropped the phone to the ground, abandoning the pile of clothes he'd been ransacking to find the pager and collapsed back on the bed. Hart, taking in the situation, groaned and flopped next to him.

"Add that to the list of things we've done to piss off MacDonald lately. But its not like we'll be fired."

"Even if--I've been fired before," Hart said, scooting closer. "It's really not that bad."

"Oh yeah?" Matthews asked, leaning over for a kiss.

"Yeah," Hart said, giving in,"And besides. This? Totally worth it."