You know the drill - kudos to everyone who leaves reviews...you all are the bee's knees, ya hear? I'm glad you enjoyed a little look into Professor Prentiss.

I promised you "Demily" fans another Morgan one...and I'm nothing if not a writer of my word. :D

Happy reading =)

"Tattoos have a power and magic all their own. They decorate the body but they also enhance the soul." – Michelle Delio

I feel a goofy smile spreading across my face as my eyes open slowly and I realize where I am, and more importantly, who I'm with. It seems completely crazy that I'm holding her in my arms. It doesn't seem real…it must be a dream. I honestly can't wrap my head around the fact that Emily Prentiss is lying next to me. She was classy, and worldly, and definitely out of my league. And yet, for some reason, she'd chosen to give me a chance. I always thought she was too smart to try and change my ways…but she'd done just that, without any effort. If nothing else, her time in Paris had showed me just how much I wanted to change.

I feel my smile falter slightly when my mind reminds me of the not too distant past when this couldn't have been anything but a dream. Those months without her still linger painfully in my memory, but every moment I spend with her now goes a long way to overcoming them. I can't help but let out a content sigh as I close my eyes again, and pull her that little bit closer to me, reveling in the feel of her skin on mine.

She shifts slightly, but doesn't wake as she moves even closer to me. I find myself smiling again, this time at her unconscious movements. She'd spent a lifetime pretending she didn't need anyone, and was perfectly happy to go it alone, and yet in just a moment all of that is rendered moot. I breathe in her scent deeply and open my eyes to catalogue and memorize every detail of her, no doubt a response to that lingering guilt and worry about her disappearing on me again.

Everything had seemed to move so quickly after JJ's wedding. I was overwhelmed by the possibility of her leaving again, and I'd fought with myself for the better part of a few days to let her go to London. I'd told myself she needed to go, and more importantly I needed to let her go to London to find that happiness she so deserved. I tried to convince myself she needed my support, and that she deserved at least that much from her partner and friend. But then I'd walked in on her playing that haunting melody on that piano, and all those carefully constructed arguments had gone out the window. In that moment I knew I couldn't let her go. So I asked her to stay. And she did.

"Hey," she whispers sleepily, breaking me out of my reverie. Apparently she'd woken up while my mind was busy wandering.

"Hey yourself," I say with a smile and press a kiss to her shoulder. "Sleep well?"

"Mmhmm," she answers with a nod. "You?"

"Best sleep I've had in a while," I admit.

"Do we have to get up?" she asks, and I can't help but smile at her sleepiness.

"Nope. We can stay here all day if you like."

"Mm, that would be amazing."

I let out a light chuckle at her eagerness. "Until you get hungry."

"I'll just make you go get breakfast," she quips.

"Oh, is that how this works?"

"Yep," she says with a grin.

I shake my head at her antics. For all the worldliness and class that is Emily Prentiss, underneath that cool and collected exterior is a bona fide goofball. "Hey, I didn't know you had a tattoo," I say in surprise as I notice the script on her left shoulder blade for the first time.

She lets out a chuckle as she turns onto her back and looks up at me. "Why would you?"

"I've known you for years, Emily," I point out.

"Well unlike some of us," she begins, shooting me a pointed look, "I don't make it a point to walk around my coworkers shirtless."

"No, you don't," I concede. "But let me just say, your coworkers have been missing out big time," I finish with a grin.

She rolls her eyes and half-chuckles before pulling me down to press a quick kiss to my lips.

"What does it mean?"

"It's an Arabic proverb," she explains. "It means: "Ignorance is the death of the living.""

"Very deep," I remark.

She lets out a light laugh. "I thought so too."

"Why'd you get it?"

"I wanted a tattoo," she says with a shrug. "And I was an entitled Yalie," she adds with a grin.

"Ah, so you got it while in college."

"Yep. I'd heard the proverb as a kid and it stuck with me through the years. By the time I'd reached college, it made a hell of a lot of sense to me."

"And what about this one?" I ask as I shift her arm and press a kiss to the inked skin on her rib cage beside her left breast.

"I got it when I was 16."

"16?" I ask, my eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Yeah. I got it a few months after my grandfather died."

"Is it a tribute to him?" I ask as I examine it a little more closely.

"Something like that, I suppose."

"Was he into astronomy?" I ask, recognizing the Big Dipper formation.

"He's the one who introduced me to the stars," she explains. "I've been partial to them ever since."

"Why the Big Dipper constellation?"

"Asterism," she corrects. "He told me that no matter where in the world I was, I could look up at the Plough – that's what the Big Dipper is called over in England – and know that he was looking at the same thing."

"That's a fitting tribute."

"My mother didn't think so."

"I'm sure she didn't. My mama wasn't too pleased with me when she saw my first tattoo. She still shakes her head when she sees 'em and complains that she didn't carry me around inside o' her for all those months for me to intentionally ruin my skin."

"I believe my mother's exact words were, "Emily, what have you done?!" and of course they came out in more of a screech than intelligible speech."

I let out a chuckle and shake my head slightly. "What do the words mean?" I ask, refocusing on the tattoo and noticing the script beneath the stars.

"It's a German proverb-"

"You're big into the proverbs, eh?"

"You wanna know what it means, or not?" she asks impatiently.

"I'm sorry," I apologize with a smile. "Go on."

"It's a German proverb that roughly translates to "Except for the night, we could never know the stars.""

"Why'd you get that?"

"To remind myself that the shitty times in life are worth persevering through."

"That they are," I agree. It occurs to me that that very notion likely came into play while she was fighting for her life on that warehouse floor.

"What about yours?" she asks, her gaze drifting to the lion's head on my shoulder.

"I got this one first," I say, gesturing to my shoulder. "The lion's a very powerful animal, and is all about loyalty and bravery."

"Mm, I can see why you chose it. It's very…you."

"I got the one on my leg next, yin and yang to represent the complementary and to some extent opposing forces at work in life. Not unlike your German proverb."

"Very philosophical."

"I admit I liked it a little because it was pretty cool looking."

She shakes her head. "Money well spent, evidently."

I shoot her an unimpressed look but continue my explanation anyway. "Then I got the one on my lower back, and then the one across my upper back, which are both pretty self-explanatory."

"In other words, you got bit by the ink bug," she says, arching an eyebrow.

"I suppose so."

"Gonna get any more?"

"Maybe. I'd always thought if I had kids I'd get their initials somewhere. What about you? Two your limit?"

"Yeah, it's quite enough ink for me, I think."

"You say that now…"

"It's been decades since I last got a tattoo, so I think I'm safe."

We both chuckle lightly and then lapse into a comfortable silence, our eyes drifting closed slowly.

"You know, I could get used to waking up like this," I say suddenly as my earlier thoughts of peacefulness and contentedness surface in my mind once more.

"Mm, so could I," she says with a sleepy smile.

I lean over to kiss her, but her eyes widen, and she squirms out of reach. "Woman, what are you doing?"

She covers her mouth with one hand and mumbles something.

"What was that?"

She moves her hand for a moment. "Morning breath."

"Aw, c'mon Princess, I don't care. Come here," I say reaching toward her.

She shifts just out of my reach once more. "Doesn't work like in the movies, Derek. Give me a minute to freshen up."

"But you just kissed me like 5 minutes ago!" I protest, finally managing to pin her and pull her hands away from her mouth. "C'mon, Em. Stay with me."

She bites her lip and looks up at me. "Just let me brush my teeth?" she asks. "Please?" she adds as her eyes grow wide and she looks up at me.

I release her and roll over. "Fine," I relent. "But I'm keeping this," I say, grabbing the sheet she'd wrapped around herself.

She lets out a shriek and hurries into the en suite, shutting the door behind her. I can't help but laugh. "I didn't know you were shy, Princess. I guess I just figured after last night that you were anything but," I say, a grin spreading on my face.

She apparently chooses to ignore my comment and I hear the tap turn on. Throwing aside the sheet I'd stolen from her grasp, I get up quickly and make my way into the en suite, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her.

She squeaks in surprise as her eyes fly open. She pulls the toothbrush from her mouth. "You have no shame, do you?" she comments, noting my lack of clothing.

"No real need for any, is there?" I drawl before beginning to kiss my way down her neck and onto her shoulder.

"You're incorrigible, you know that?"

I don't reply and instead kiss my way back up her neck, focusing some more attention on a spot I knew drove her crazy.

"Derek! I'm trying to- Oh! Uh, mmm…" she trails off, moaning softly.

"What was that, Princess?" I ask cheekily, pausing only a moment before continuing my ministrations.

"I, um…"

I let out a chuckle. "That's what I thought."

She groans in protest when I cease my ministrations and reach for my own toothbrush and some toothpaste.

"You were the one who wanted this whole teeth-brushing thing to happen," I remind her when she shoots me a glare.

"And you were the one who started something he didn't finish," she fires back after daintily spitting and rinsing her mouth. She turns and faces me before running her hands down my chest.

I groan in pleasure and forget my current task as her hands slowly begin to drift downward. But just as it was becoming the best morning I'd ever experienced, she abruptly stops and heads toward the door.

"Hey!" I call out.

"Hey nothing, mister. Quid pro quo," she says, wagging a finger at me before slipping into the bedroom once more.

So...how do we feel about the tattoos? Did this quell the jonesing for Morgan-Prentiss? Did we chuckle? Grimace? Smile? Let me know...reviews make me a happy writer! :D

'til next time, mes amis!