LIKE A GIRL ｡ CRIMINAL MINDS

TWENTY SIX

unedited

TWENTY SIX. NO SHOT

HOTCH DIDN'T LIKE THE WAY DAISY WAS SMILING DOWN AT HER PHONE. She was doing the thing where she'd chuckle softly and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, something she did when she was struggling to pinpoint a single emotion. Her legs were kicked over Emily's lap, and her head was rested against the plane cabin wall. She was more settled now that the plane was in the air and they hadn't hit any turbulence. 

After they had caught the Unsub, who had used the Viper's methods of confronting the woman who hurt you first, there wasn't much left for them in Atlanta. A woman Spencer had spoken to had figured it out and been kidnapped as a result, but she was safe and unharmed for the most part. It was another relative success in the BAU record book. 

"What're you smiling at, Alvarez?" Derek walked through the aisle with a cup of coffee in his hands. His words drew the attention of the team, though Hotch was already sneaking glances her way. 

Daisy looked up like a deer in headlights, and dropped her phone into her lap. She plastered a sheepish grin on her flushed face. "Nothing."

Emily reached over and snatched her phone up, much to Daisy's discontent. The woman looked at the screen, her eyes widening a little. A surprised laugh escaped from her lips, and she smacked Daisy's leg. "You little rascal! You got his number?"

Jordan shot up with wide eyes. "Wait, seriously?!"

"Whose number?" Derek lowered himself into the seat opposite the couch, watching as Jordan rushed over to take the phone from Emily. Daisy sunk further into the cushions, trying to hide the fact that she was burning up. 

Emily bit her lip, trying to contain herself. Daisy rolled her eyes, before she waved at the dark haired woman to explain. "When we left the club last night, there were guys all over little miss thang over here. But there was one who convinced her to an arm wrestle; if he won, he got to buy her a drink, if she won..."

"He would still buy her a drink," Jordan finished, before gasping at one of the messages. "Daisy Alvarez, you naughty little-"

"That's enough," Hotch piped up, his voice sharp. The group looked over to see him mulling over paperwork, as he usually did when he had free time. It was only Rossi, who sat opposite him, who saw his clenched white knuckles and twitching left eye. "I'd prefer it if we didn't discuss our colleague's personal sex lives on a case."

"We are off the clock," Spencer pointed out, looking up from his second book of the flight. Hotch sent him an unimpressed look, but the genius didn't seem to notice the underlying irritation behind it. The young man too had gotten the number from someone he had met on the case, the woman who they had rescued from the Unsub when they caught him. 

It was silent for a few minutes, before Derek reached for the phone. Jordan glanced at Daisy for permission and she shrugged, so it was passed over. He looked over the texts, and snickered. "Good lord, Alvarez. Who is this guy, Patrick Dempsey?"