Yawning and stretching, Cecile rolled her shoulders before almost jumping with glee as Morgan and Prentiss walked into the station with pizza boxes. 'This is sweeter than any nectar,' she remarked while quickly flipping the lip to the top pizza off. 'Forgive me Father Murphey for what I am about to do,' she muttered before rolling a pizza slice in half and running her tongue along the fold. Sure it wasn't too hot, she folded the slice further so that it was rolled into a pen shape before she pushed one side through her lips, a few inches of the rolled pizza sticking out of her mouth.
'Who is Father Murphey?' JJ asked as she took a smaller bite of her slice.
Cecile turned to face the board as she drew what Reid directed for their geographical profile. As she chewed, not even once did her hand touch the pizza slice as she used her lips and tongue to pull the slice in when she had more room in her mouth. With both of her hands above her head with a pen and a piece of string, the team hadn't expected a response any time soon. 'He was the priest who got three of the nuns pregnant at my school. He always said that gluttony was the greatest sin, it seems he hadn't heard that lust was also a sin,' she joked as Reid took the pen from her to deal with the geoprofile himself.
'How did you eat the pizza?' Prentiss asked as she watched in awe.
'I've got a good tongue, maybe I'll show you how good later,' Cecile teased with a playful wink as she picked another piece up and began to slowly eat it.
'Let's keep it professional,' Hotch injected as he walked from the office, seemingly charging for the door to the station.
'Anything for you, Babycakes,' Cecile replied as she watched him walk out.
Their teasing had grown, well, Cecile's teasing had grown more brazen. Hotch didn't often reciprocate it. Particularly since Haley had handed him the divorce papers and his already limited access to his own son was reduced even further. To begin with, her teasing stopped, it was not a good time to push his buttons. And then, exhausted after an abduction case, she called him Princess by accident, and it made him smile. That was consent enough in her mind to keep going. 'Don't call me Babycakes,' he demanded while glancing back at her with warning in his eyes. Regardless of what she called him, Hotch never told her to stop calling him names, he just specified that the specific name she called him needed to stop.
Rossi, the latest arrival following Gideon's departure, said that Hotch secretly enjoyed the happy exchanges with Cecile. 'Anything for you, Beyonce,' she replied with a mouth full of pizza. His glance back was not accompanied with a reprimand, but he rolled his eyes at her and kept walking outside.
'I am wounded. Am I not Beyonce?' Garcia asked while she was meant to be finding a list of names to check with the profile Reid was working on.
'Oh no, baby, you're Shakira. Because those hips do not lie. Maybe they could lie all over me,' Cecile teased while taking the pen from Reid as he hastily glanced at the pattern on the board that seemed to be emerging, yet only he could see it.
Before a reply could be made, or Morgan could inject himself into the conversation, Hotch returned and silently stopped the conversation with his air. He was silently signalling for them to pay attention to him with the gaze in his eye. 'The husbands of these victims were only confused by one feature in the room. Ginger sat on the bed of each of the victims,' he informed them.
'Ginger has universal use, from drinks of varying forms to sweets, vegetables, herb use as well as in preservation, namely pickles. It is a spice that is used throughout many cultures. In Indian cuisine it is often used in gravy. However, I do not know the symbolism for it in relation to our victims, they are all Caucasian,' Reid mumbled as he tried to position the string in his hand against the map properly.
'Test it for DNA,' Cecile suggested as she helped Reid again.
'Why should we do that?' Police Chief Sam asked sceptically.
'No thanks,' replied Cecile as Reid took a seat and she was forced to stand as they ran out of chairs.
'What do you mean, no thanks?' Morgan asked with a laugh.
'I mean, I would like to pass up on the opportunity to explain why there might be DNA evidence on the piece of ginger. It was something I noticed too, it has been sliced open, I don't know when it happened, but I would bet they cut it just before each of the victims was killed,' Cecile responded calmly.
Hotch glared at Cecile with a warning, however, no matter how angrily he looked at her through his eyelashes and eyebrows, she wasn't going to back down. 'Sallow, you cannot pass on this opportunity. We need to know what you think happened before our victims were killed,' he warned.
'It's a sexual thing. Kinda kinky if you ask me. It's called figging,' she mumbled while crossing her arms over her chest. Reid, however, shook his head to say that he didn't recognise the term.
'Without giving too many details, we will need more than it's sexual. We need the motives behind their actions,' Hotch responded while also crossing his arms across his chest.
Shaking her head, Cecile fought against the offer. However, Hotch was nodding at her with growing frustration. 'Beef stroganoff!' She exclaimed while waving her hands into the air. 'You place it in an orifice and it burns a little. Part of the practice of BDSM, happy Hotchner?' She snapped back, making him grimace at the thought of what she mentioned.
'Why did you say beef stroganoff?' Prentiss asked, pushing the pizza box away as she started feeling sick.
'Fuck,' Cecile suddenly spat in reply.
'Sallow, language,' Hotch snapped without looking up at her.
Gesturing towards him, she widened her eyes as if to say "that's why". 'Oh, you are playing the system like a champ,' Prentiss teased.
Eventually sitting down, Cecile found her place on the corner of the table while the team spoke about their lives. 'She was meant to be my honey tonight, but we have to work this instead,' Morgan complained.
'Yeah, my weekend away had to be cancelled. And instead, I get to listen to details about ginger and women's anatomy,' JJ complained tiredly.
'Oh, that's the wrong side of the pouch of Douglas. It goes up the pooper,' Cecile absentmindedly replied as she rolled another pizza slice and placed it at her lips, the team watched it wiggle as she chewed and ate it without her hands. However, the scene didn't last for long as she turned to follow Hotch who was walking out of the station.
Helping to grab the bags in his hands, Cecile walked beside Hotch as he headed towards the car. He hadn't been able to drop his bag off to the hotel yet, and after dropping it off, he was going to visit the ME for the latest report. 'Are you just going to silently follow me?' He asked once they stepped out of the station.
A hum to disagree was made, and Hotch turned to look at what was going on, he saw her slowly inhale the last piece of the pizza as she quickly chewed it. His chuckle made Cecile smile as she saw him happy, even if it was for the briefest of moments. 'I was finishing my food, but I wanted to talk to the ME with you. It isn't like you to go on these trips alone. Starting to think that you don't like us, communication is key, and so far, you've not done much of that,' she complained as soon as her food was swallowed.
'No matter how much effort I put into trying to make you grow up, you always act like a child,' he chastised as he waited for Cecile to place his other bag in the boot. As soon as the bag landed in the back, he swung the boot closed and nearly took her head clean off.
'Now I know you don't like me. But don't pretend you don't like it, Sweet Pea,' Cecile replied, pausing as she waited for his inevitable interruption.
'Don't call me Sweet Pea,' he replied while driving towards the hotel.
Rolling her eyes, Cecile grunted to agree before she started her return. 'Sure thing, Sugar tits. But I want to know why I have to act like an adult. And if I am an adult, then how can I act like anything other than an adult? What do you want me to do? Be all miserable like you? And Garcia might not be quiet like this with you, but she is cheery and playful, she flirts with Morgan. Hell, she flirts with anything that moves. It's playful, and it sounds like you can accept her, but you can't accept me. This sounds like a you problem,' she retorted quickly.
Playfully scoffing, Hotch braced his elbow against the door and took a left turn faster than he should have, sending Cecile crashing into the footwell. 'You always know how to get under my skin,' he muttered while pulling the car over to help her out from the small space she had slipped into. 'If you weren't so damn flexible, you wouldn't have gone in there. And you should wear a seatbelt,' he gruffly confessed while leaning over the centre console and grabbing her arms as she pushed herself onto the seat.
Grumbling and groaning, Cecile straightened her clothes as she pushed her hand to her head as she squeezed her eyes shut. 'Language, Hotchner. Damn is a swear word for Americans. And this is the first time a man has ever complained about my flexibility, I will have you know. Also, way to blame the victim. You shouldn't have been such a douche. You are the ginger to my arsehole. Seriously, my head kills. But you know something? I might know how to get under your skin, how about you let me under that shirt first?' She responded while refusing to open her eyes.
'I thought you were hurt, will you ever stop with the inappropriate jokes? You can't be in too much pain if that's how you're talking to me,' Hotch replied while leaning across Cecile to pull the seatbelt around her before he started driving again.
Groaning, Cecile decided against taking her hands off her eyes as her head hurt more. 'I have just been the victim of a car accident. That was intentional suffering, you tried to hurt me. And why are dashboards so hard? Can't they be made out of a softer material? What if I have a concussion and die in my sleep? Oh, Gooch, you have just killed me,' she complained as they drove along an empty road.
'Don't ever call me Gooch again. And you'll survive,' Hotch retorted.
'I can hear you rolling your eyes, are you asking to be pistol whipped?' Cecile asked sharply.
'You can't hear me rolling my eyes. But I was rolling my eyes, and you won't hurt me while I'm driving,' he replied, almost sighing at her dramatics.
'I am going to die anyway, might as well take a hunk of ham with me. Now you'll never be able to escape me,' Cecile replied in warning.
In the end, Cecile was no help as she sat in the car. On the drive back to the station, Hotch had given up his rebuttal as his words fell on deaf ears as she spoke over him. 'How you got into the FBI is beyond me,' he murmured during one of her pauses.
'I, Cecile Persephone Sallow, declare this to be my last will and testament, and I revoke any and all wills and codicils made prior to this date. All references here in refer only to this speech. To Penelope Garcia, I leave my collection of nail varnish and nail care items to expand her horizons. To Derek Morgan, I leave my lace underwear, to make him feel as uncomfortable as he makes women. To Jennifer Jareau, I leave my house so that she may make it a hoe-me. To Emily Prentiss, I leave my money so she may sin to win every weekend. To David Rossi, I leave all pictures of me so that he may lay me to rest beside him in bed. To Aaron Hotchner, I leave my middle fingers, severed and pickled for a month. And finally, to Spencer Reid, I leave the rest of my body so he may-,' she was stopped short by a loud rumble.
'ENOUGH!' Hotch roared, trying to stop the words from falling from her lips. 'That is not appropriate. For several reasons. Legality being one reason.'
The car had stopped, and Cecile was forced to climb out for the police station as Hotch gathered a box from the back seat that the ME handed him. 'Don't shout, you disgusting pig,' she whined as they walked into the police station again as she clutched her head, grateful that the sun had set so it wasn't too bright outside.
'Maybe it's time we re-evaluate your time with us, you have been no help, and you have driven me mad,' Hotch retorted as they joined the team again.
Hotch opened his mouth to address the team, however their attention was drawn to Cecile who was still scrunching her eyes closed and holding her head. 'I have the last name Sallow, do you really think anything you say could be meaner than what the kids said in the playground?' She asked angrily.
'What's wrong, Love Bug?' Morgan asked while glancing across her.
'This hussy tried to kill me in a half-arsed fender bender in what can only be described as the worst understeer you have ever heard of. I crumbled like a cheap Jenga tower,' Cecile complained.
Hotch shook his head while sighing out and opening the box in front of him. 'You should have worn your seatbelt, and I helped you out of the footwell. It was a sharp corner, I'd like to see you do better,' he retorted crisply while trying to move back to the case.
'I am literally trained in tactical driving. If it's good enough for the royal family, it's good enough for your lousy ass. My head hit the dashboard like Newton's cradle. You didn't even ask if I was okay,' Cecile replied while taking a seat at the table.
'The car was more of a concern. I didn't want to do the paperwork if you dented it. And you told me your last will and testament so your affairs were in order. I still don't understand how you know the wording for a legal will and testament,' Hotch murmured before lifting evidence from the box.
Trying to soothe the ache in her head, Cecile cradled her head while it felt like her brain was going to explode out of her skull. Hotch gave the spiel that he needed to before dismissing the team, however, he was left with one co-worker who didn't seem to pay any attention to his words. Crouching down and resting his hands on her knees to steady himself, Hotch tried to catch her attention. 'You're thinking really loudly,' she complained when his breath flittered through her hair.
'Let me have a look. We can decide what to do then,' Hotch quietly remarked as the quiet police station was ignored for the first time that day. Despite her verbal protests, as his hands grabbed her wrists, there was no strength in her body to fight him as he pulled her hands away. 'I am so sorry, Sallow. I had no clue it was this bad. Maybe we should get you checked out in case something is damaged inside,' he murmured as his eyes grew concerned while he scanned the large bruise on her forehead.
'Really, Agent Hotchner? You nearly kill me, and now you're teasing me about brain damage? If I wasn't dying right now, I would beat your ass. As it is, I bruise like a peach and prison would make me its bitch,' Cecile responded while trying to hide her face so that the lights of the station couldn't hurt her eyes any further.
'No, I'm serious. This looks really bad, there is no way you are working with a bruise like this. Take tomorrow off. Maybe a week or two. And we will take you to see a doctor,' Hotch comforted as he helped her to her feet.
'If we go to the hospital, or you give me time off, we will have to write a report about what happened. I am refusing medical treatment. It'll work out. Maybe I can work from the hotel room until this blows over,' Cecile responded gruffly while accepting Hotch's help to guide her into the same car she had suffered the injury in.
Slamming the door behind him, Hotch turned the engine on and quickly stopped the radio. 'Don't be so stubborn, we'll put it down to a sharp corner. Because that was what happened, and if you want to complain about me then feel free to, but we are going to get you checked out by a doctor,' he sternly informed her.
Protests became futile as Hotch walked Cecile into the hospital, his eyes nervously glancing at the large purple bruise that was swelling, it covered one half of her forehead, and her left eye was starting to swell too.
An: another chapter down. I'm setting some things up. Hopefully Cecile is a little more understanding soon. Or maybe it's Hotch who needs to change 🤷♀️