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
The following morning, I blinked my bleary eyes open, only to face the pastoral walls of the cabin room I had been designated, and all of yesterday's occurrences came flooding back at me. We were in Alaska, and I was finally on my first out of state case, and I felt my body practically vibrate with excitement.
Immediately, I pushed open the small rectangular window above the bed I was lying on, and I inhaled, deeply, as the fresh, crisp blast of freezing cold air blew into the room.
I glanced out of the window, only so see nothing but a blank canvas of fresh snow, and the sky shadowing it was bright and cool, and after looking at my phone, and found it to be nearing half past 5 in the morning, far too early to go down for breakfast, so I decided to jump in the shower, and briefly run over the details of the case we were here to solve.
Switching on the small cubicle shower, I instantly saw the swirls of steam fill the chrome vertical, oblong area, and stepped inside, after undressing myself quickly. I washed my hair beneath the intense spray, and felt it stick to my back in messy, wet curls, and I pulled it over one of my shoulders, before scrubbing at my body, coarsely, trying to rid myself of the weird, tugging feeling in my stomach, and once I stepped out, my skin was blotchy and my face was flushed a deep red.
After wrapping myself with a thick towel, I brushed my teeth, and washed my face of last night's makeup and grime, quickly, and padded back into the bedroom quarters of the dormitory. Wincing at the subzero temperatures of the bedroom, I pushed the window closed, and towel dried my body off before pulling on a pair of clean underwear, and moisturised my skin, and slid on a pair of thick black jeans, and a pair of chunky socks, and a pair of Doc Marten patent black boots.
Swiftly, I slid on a simple navy cotton vest, and an oversized, considerably bulky grey sweater, and rolled up the sleeves, so they cuffed at my wrists. Quickly, I patted down my hair, and swirled it upwards, with a large chunky floral crocodile clip, and stood up, glancing at the mirror opposite me, and went about doing my makeup, quickly.
Nothing too drastic, or even anything special, but enough to breathe some life back into my face, and I picked up the practically bursting manila folders into my hands, and went about scanning my eyes against the text. According to this, there have been five separate murders, all women and brunettes, clearly not a coincidence, between the ages of twenty and twenty-five, and living in the same town, but not on the same street.
This implies that the killer was flexible in his kills, and they all occurred at different hours of the day, which gave me a whole new perspective of the serial killer. I scratched my forehead, and the sharp sensation drew me out of my reverie, and I gathered my belongings, before walking out into the hallway, only to, inadvertently, bump into the toned, taut back of one Derek Morgan.
I glanced up, slightly shocked, and he turned, slowly, and simply grinned, wolfishly, towering over me, and I asked, "What.. Why are you out here so early?"
He frowned, slightly, and said, slowly, "It's nearly half six.. We're late for breakfast anyway," and reached out for my hand and tugging me along the winding corridor. My eyes widened, and I flushed, and he stared at me, blankly, before asking, "Are you okay? You look a little.. I don't know, tired, maybe?"
I shook my head, and answered, simply, "No.. I'm just a little weirded out about being somewhere so different, that's all," and he rubbed his hand on my shoulder, comfortingly, before making idle conversation all the way down towards the dining hall, which was the closed off section in the cabin, that I couldn't have possibly seen from the entrance lobby the night before.
I was practically screaming with laughter as we stepped into the moderately quiet hall, and I felt the blistering stares of a few of the BAU members fall on my face, which immediately sobered up, with a slight cough, and reddening cheeks.
He pulled me over to the semi-circle of comfy, neatly designed sofas, and whispered in my ear, as he set me down, "They all think there's something going on between us, you know."
His tone suggested he found this piece of news rather interesting, and even somewhat amusing, and I had the inkling that he might think that I was developing feelings for him, so I wondered, while raising a questioning eyebrow, I asked, "There isn't, right?," hoping against hope that he felt the same way that I was.
Entirely platonic, with a sense of almost endearment behind the glassy film of our friendship. He shook his head, and made a face, to which I almost grimaced at, had he not elaborated, "Honestly.. I'm kinda in a relationship right now, I guess," and he grinned to himself, adorably.
I knew of Derek's reputation with the ladies, and how.. Friendly he could get with them, however I couldn't help but feel a burst of pride swell in my chest at his maturity; even though he was almost 37 years old, if his file said anything, anyway. One thing, though, he looked damn good for his age, but I could see the crinkling on the sides of his eyes as he smiled. Wonderingly, I inclined my head, slightly, and asked, "Do they know that?"
Sheepishly, he shook his head, and I smiled, touched that he felt he could share such intimate and personal announcement with me. I rubbed his muscular bicep, mirroring his earlier movements to myself, and he smiled, a real smile, and I swear, I nearly went blind at the sight.
It was just so fucking white.
He had to have had work done, there was no way that these were his real teeth. They couldn't have been, could they?
We went about this for a while, and if I was paying more attention to my surroundings, I would have noticed that the stares from the others were withering, in comparison to that of Spencer Reid's.
His glare was blistering, and he felt a fury envelop his being, darker and more intense than he had ever felt in his entire life. Every playful touch they shared was like an intense stab to his chest, and he clenched his fists so tightly that the skin of his knuckles had turned white with exertion.
Derek asked, curiously, "Hey.. You hungry?," and he nodded his head towards the open breakfast bar. I felt my stomach clench, uncomfortably, and my mouth bled dry, a little. I was hungry, but I was too nervous to really eat anything, and keep it down, which was something that I would have preferred, honestly.
Distractedly, I shook my head, and he nodded, not quite believing, but accepting nonetheless, and stood, stating, "You might not be, but I am. I was waiting outside your room forever, you know. Be back in a second, okay?"
Quickly, I raised an eyebrow, and made a particularly sarcastic expression, and enquired, cheekily, "And you were outside my room for so long.. Why, Der?"
He paused, momentarily, at the nickname, and I felt a fleeting surge of uncertainty, before he beamed, and replied, "I don't know.. There's something about you that I feel like I have to.. Defend. I don't know, I see you like a sister, I guess," and he left to get something to eat, leaving me blushing like a madwoman.
I was swarmed with such intense, flooding feelings, and I couldn't hold back the big, heartbreakingly bright smile that broke out across my face, and I played with the ends of my hair. Derek sauntered back towards me, with a simple piece of unbuttered toast, and two cups of coffee in his hands.
Oh, no, he couldn't have, could he?
"Here, you know you want it, stop being stubborn," he said, scathingly, handing me the cup of steaming dark liquid. I inhaled, and the nutty scent of coffee assaulted my senses, and he smirked, and settled in the sofa next to me, and bit into his toast. He quipped, sarcastically, "You're welcome."
His only answer was a deep, guttural groan that was ripped out of my throat, and his grin widened, exponentially, and his eyebrow raised, slightly, before he settled back in the seat, and I sat on the arm of the couch, my ankles crossing, daintily. JJ walked forward, then, and stated, careful as to not disturb us I guess, "Hey.. It's time for the briefing, you coming?"
I nodded, and Derek stood, his food having vanished, and a smug smile on his face. I downed the rest of my coffee, and placed it on the corner of the bar, along with the rest of the used cutlery, and walked into the large, spare, empty room with nothing but a large, squared oak wood desk, along with a few chairs, snuggled beneath the table.
Derek threw his arm over my shoulders, and I glanced around the room, noticing how apprehensive Spencer was acting in our presence, and how quickly his gaze averted from my own, and I felt the vibrations from Derek's chest as he chuckled, and he asked, "You see it now?"
Cautiously, I nodded, and he nudged me forward, "Go talk to him, then."
Oh, Jesus.