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!

3rd Person's POV

David Rossi and Aaron Hotchner were seated in the latter's office, intently discussing the folder that Hotch had received not ten minutes ago.

Rossi rubbed the back of his neck, as he was reading something on his tablet, and asked, "Hotch, I mean, isn't this a good thing? She could be really good for the team, for everyone."

Hotch only nodded in response, and Rossi sighed, and pushed further, "Why are you so against her coming in? I thought you liked her?"

Hotch rolled his eyes in annoyance, although it wasn't directed at the other man in the room, and replied, "I do like her, Rossi, believe me, I do. I just.. I just don't know if coming in, to work here, of all places, is a good thing, for her sake, not mine."

Rossi raised an eyebrow at this, and asked, "Why wouldn't it be a good thing for her?"

Hotch cautiously retorted, "She went into hospital in December, and we've only just come into March. What if she's not quite ready for it?"

Rossi pressed, already knowing the answer, but wanting the younger man the admit it, "For what, Hotch?"

Hotch huffed, and groaned, "For this! This job, this life. It's not easy, Rossi. It's harder than anything we've ever done. She'll have to give up a lot of her life, and for what?"

Rossi reclined in his seat, crossed his arms, and droned, simply, "We do so much good, Hotch. She'll be fine, trust me on this."

Hotch's entire body relaxed at this, and he smiled, and said, "Sure, Rossi, I just hope you believe what you're saying."

Rossi chuckled, then nodded, and both men went back to what they had been doing beforehand.

Earlier that morning.

Derek Morgan was waking up in a bed he couldn't recognise after a night he couldn't quite remember, lying next to a woman he knew he wouldn't like to meet again. She was dead to the world, and he knew it would be more than easy to get his shit together and leave without her noticing a single thing.

Which is exactly what he did.

He threw on his clothes from the night before, and glanced at the time on his phone and saw it was a little after half 1 in the morning. He groaned into the still air of the brightly decorated bedroom, and went about finding his car and house keys, and once he did, he opened up her apartment door and left, silent as always.

It took him longer than usual to find a way home, but he did, in the end, and as he was sitting in the back of a taxicab, which was en route to his upscale condo a few blocks from his workplace and decided that now that he was awake, he might as well stay that way.

"Thanks, how much do I owe you?"

The taxi driver had pulled up to his apartment complex and replied, "14 dollars and 60 cents, sir."

Morgan handed the man a twenty, and told him to keep the change, and went about trudging his body up the three flights of stairs, leading to his flat. Instead of dropping onto his bed which appeared almost painfully comfortable to his tired, blood-shot eyes, he went into his make-shift gym, and threw off his tight black tee, and went about going through his usual motions.

Morgan started doing his usual 100 push-ups, followed by an equal amount of sit ups, then he started on the weights, then his treadmill, running at a consistent speed, until he could barely feel his legs. When he stepped off the machine, he knew that he would sleep well until he was eventually woken up by his alarm, which was set for 7 in the morning.

By the time he had stripped and fell into his sheets, it was almost 4 in the morning, and Morgan was dog-tired. He knew he would pay for it later on, but he was glad he was at least able to work out before he drifted off into a land of warmth and satisfaction.

-0-

Spencer Reid found himself waking up in a cold sweat, his breathing laboured and his vision tunnelled. He had no idea what he had been dreaming about but he had never felt so strung up in his entire life. The only thing that he remembered was the scent of vanilla and coconut and the sensation of being balls deep inside of the tight, encasing warmth that was whoever the object of his fantasies were.

Reid had never felt such pleasure, not by his own hand, or any woman he had ever encountered. Contrary to popular belief, Spencer was quite the ladies man. His boyish looks, his awkwardness and his intelligence seemed to attract women like a beacon, enticing them, and they surrounded him in hoards. What he lacked in social skills, he made up with his ability to dredge out even the deepest of carnal desires and sexual gratification. He wasn't one to blow his own horn, but he was fairly good at what he did, if the compliments on his sexual ability was anything to go by.

The base of his erection was pulsating and effervescent with vitality, and he couldn't resist the urge to grasp himself, tightly, in his own palm. The head was deep purple and his shaft thick with negligence, his balls were tense and it only took a few quick, educated strokes to have himself cumming in his own lap, and groaning into the night air of his bedroom. He collapsed onto his pillow, and his pulse speeding like a freight train.

Once Reid had a hold of himself, he glanced down and whispered a quick "Shit," before using some tissues to clean himself and his sheets and eventually drifted off into a dreamless sleep, knowing full well that he'd have to be up, washed, dressed, and fully awake in a few hours.

Hey. I hope you liked it, lovelies. Have a good day, and I love you!

*Update*

To the anonymous 'guest' who keeps reading my story, then flaming the chapters - Stop reading it. It's not difficult.

I'm deleting every comment you're making, so nobody is seeing them. Thank you for highlighting the grammatical errors in my stories, but insulting my characters and taking your insecurities out on me isn't necessary. To me, anonymous flamers are people who aren't confident enough in their own writing, and they take that embarrassment out on other people. My story works for me, and that's perfectly fine. I didn't write this to get any kind of response or feedback, but I am absolutely blown away with how wonderful everyone has been. Unfortunately, people like you, who can't stand to see others happy, ruin it.

So, thank you for your unnecessary, unwanted input, but I'll be fine without it. Have a wonderful day.