Author's Note: FYI—this isn't a casefic—I'm not so intelligent that I could possibly write one of those! So the solving of this case probably won't be a major part of the plot. Also--at this point, I've given up calling it a threeshot, etc. I guess it's just going to be written until it's done!

"You didn't have to slam the door," Garcia snapped as she struggled to catch up with JJ so she could share her umbrella.

Prentiss rolled her eyes as she paid the cabby. "Garcia, it's three a.m. and we were just paged to headquarters! I think we're in a bit of a rush here."

"Then why are you stopping to talk to me?" Garcia asked.

"Good question," Prentiss said, picking up speed. She slid her badge and the security guard buzzed them in.

"JJ?" Penelope whined.

"Yeah?" JJ asked, reaching into her purse for her water. Granted, she hadn't faired as badly as the other two being as she'd stopped after her second glass of wine, but no one looked good at three in the morning. And she needed to hydrate.

"I think I'm still drunk," Penelope said.

"Word of wisdom," JJ said. "I'd leave that out when you talk to Hotch."

Penelope sighed. "Thanks for letting me sleep in your spare bedroom."

JJ laughed. "You were in no condition to drive," she reminded her friend.

Penelope nodded and then winced as they walked into the well lit lobby of FBI headquarters in Quantico. "I miss the dark."

JJ laughed again. "I bet you do."

The girls caught up with Emily inside and when they made it to the floor housing the BAU, they hustled through the doors. Unfortunately, Morgan was standing there waiting for them. Fortunately, he had coffee. He handed one to Prentiss and one to JJ and then Penelope practically pounced on him.

"Oh, Morgan," she said with a sigh as she took a paper cup out of the cardboard tray. "This is why I love you."

He lifted an eyebrow at her and then cleared his throat. "So, ladies," he said with a grin. "How's this cold November rain treating you?"

Prentiss stopped, handed her coffee to JJ, and then turned on Morgan. In less than two seconds, she had him pinned up against the wall, her forearm at his throat. "Enough!" she said. "And just so you know, the only reason my gun isn't drawn, is because of the cameras in here! This is the final time you talk about last night. You don't get to crash a party and then spill all the juicy details! Got it, Morgan?"

Morgan bit back a grin. "Yes, ma'am," he said solemnly.

Prentiss nodded, let him go, and then straightened her top out. "JJ?"

JJ passed her her coffee.

"I'm sorry I had to do that," Prentiss said to Morgan.

"Hey, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do," he said, falling in behind JJ and Prentiss as they headed for the office where Hotch had requested they meet. Penelope was walking beside him, moaning with pleasure as she took a long drink of the hot liquid.

Morgan leaned in. "I'd be making that noise, too, if it had been you pinning me against the wall," he whispered.

Penelope's eyes widened and she choked on her coffee.

"You OK?" JJ asked, as she turned around, never breaking stride.

"Fine," Penelope said in a squeaky voice.

Prentiss groaned. "Get a room," she muttered.

Morgan's eyes flew to Penelope's as her face turned beet red. "Girls talk," she said hastily.

Before Morgan could say anything, they walked into the office and found empty seats to occupy.

"Garcia?" Reid said concerned. "You're green. Why are you green?"

She glared at Reid.

He put his arms up in surrender. "Forget I asked," he said.

Hotch walked into the room and threw a pile of folders on the table. They landed near the middle. Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, and JJ each snapped one up.

"Where is this?" Morgan asked.

"Garrisonville," Hotch said.

"Fifteen minutes away?" Morgan said in disbelief.

Hotch nodded.

"How many files are there?" he asked.

Reid cleared his throat. "Six," he answered.

"Why were we just asked to be brought in on this thing now?" Morgan asked.

"Because it's just crossed state lines," Hotch said as JJ got up and left the room.

Hotch began to fill the team in while JJ let someone know they'd need the vehicles brought around. Their case revolved around a series of young girls, ages 13 to 17, murdered by manual strangulation and dropped in first South Carolina, then North Carolina, and now Virginia. There was a significant lapse in between each of the victims' time of death, and no signs of torture.

"He's hoarding his victims' bodies," Reid deduced. "The question is…why?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Morgan said.

"And why is he dropping them in pairs?" Prentiss asked.

The door opened and JJ stuck her head in. "We're all set to go," she said, then let the door swing shut as returned to her office to get her things.

"Have they been able to identify any of the victims?" Morgan asked, getting to his feet.

"Not yet," Hotch informed him. "Garcia?"

"Check for teenagers reported missing within the last…how long has the first one been dead?" she asked.

"Approximately two weeks," Hotch told her. "But we don't know how long she was missing before she was murdered, so start within the last two weeks, and go back from there if you don't find anything."

"And where would you like me to start?" she asked, writing furiously on a pad of paper.

"He's obviously travelling north so…" Prentiss looked at Hotch. "Florida?"

Hotch nodded. "Let's go, team," he said.

Prentiss, Reid, Hotch and Morgan left the office and Garcia headed to hers to get started. She had just sat down when she heard the door open and shut behind her.

"Talk to me," she said, without turning around.

"You're still drunk," she heard Morgan say from behind her.

She spun around in her chair and lifted an eyebrow at him. "Not so drunk that you could get me into bed," she teased. But she wasn't so sure about that. It was three in the morning, and the guy looked like he'd just walked off the set of a GQ photo shoot. His chin was scruffy, and she couldn't quite shake the wonder of what it might feel like to her touch.

"Touché," he said with a grin, and then, "Drunk enough so that you'd let me kiss you?"

"Morgan…" she said weakly.

"I said…drunk enough so that you'd let me kiss you?" he repeated more fiercely this time, walking towards her.

"We're at work," she reminded him.

He shrugged. "My shift doesn't officially start until eight."

She sighed. "It will be caught on camera," she warned him.

"That doesn't sound like a no," he said.

She didn't say anything, just stared up at him.

"Stand up, Garcia," he commanded in a low voice.

She sighed, but did as he told her to do. "That's my girl," he said, framing her face with his hands as his lips descended onto hers. He ran his tongue across the seam of her lips and she parted for him. His tongue sought hers and quickly found it. He heard her moan in pleasure when she lifted a hand and ran it down his stubbled cheek and across his chin. He couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped at the sound she made, and she immediately pulled back.

"What?" she asked.

"I like your sounds," he said softly, moving one of his hands to the back of her head and pulling her face back to his, holding it firmly in place.

"Oh," she said a second before their lips met again.

Her hands fell to his hips and pulled his lower body closer to hers, and that was when he pulled away. She was pleased to see he was breathing heavily. "Whoa, there, baby girl. You are the queen of mixed signals."

She bit her lower lip and grinned up at him.

"I…have to go," he reminded her.

"Bye," she said nonchalantly, sitting back down in her chair.

He grinned at her. "You can use that tone with me all you want, but your insides…are churning."

She shrugged. "You'll never know," she said in a teasing tone.

"Oh, I'll find out," he threatened, as he left her office.

"Morgan!" she yelled after him.

He stopped and turned around.

"Be careful out there, " she said softly.

"Always," he promised with a wink before turning around and walking away.