Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

Summary: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Or so they thought. Morgan/Emily

A/N: I was watching the Friends episode were Monica and Chandler get together in London and this idea came to mind. I'm new here, so this is my first story. It's going to be Morgan/Emily. Hmmm. One of the first episode I saw was the one where they talked about their favorite book (Don't remember the episode's name) but I guess first impressions stick, so yeah. =)

Enjoy… or I hope.

Falling Slowly

"Love is when two souls with but a single thought become two hearts that beat as one," ~Friedrich Halm

Chapter 1

"Morgan, this is stupid."

Morgan showed off his award winning smile. Tomorrow they would wake up with a mind-boggling headache and wonder what the hell they had been thinking, but for now they just let the alcohol sink in before they had to face the cruel reality of another case.

"Come on," he slurred. He was slightly more inebriated than she was, but she was still no less dejected. "It should taste good. I can't see why not."

At that, her eyes grew cross. "I thought you said you did this before."

They were sitting on the floor, backs against the end of the bed and feet unceremoniously intertwined. The many empty beer bottles scattered the floor, but for the time being the alcohol was forgotten. He gave her an incredulous look. "I thought you said you liked snickers?"

"I do." She eyed the various ingredients they had gotten at a store in the main lobby and wondered how they were going to do this without making a mess of the room and themselves. God, she really hoped they wouldn't have to pay for anything, especially in a hotel like this. They were staying at The Venetian in Las Vegas. How Hotch managed to pull a few strings, she wasn't sure.

"Just tilt your head back."

She obliged. There had been a mishap in the scheduling of rooms and since JJ had taking some time off to spend time with Henry and Will, Morgan had offered to share with her. However, if she would have known that they were going to get drunk and then make - what he called – snickers in yo' mouth, she might have turned him down.

"Don't swallow," he told her, and then added, "and don't choke. I don't want to be carrying you to the hospital at three AM in the morning." She rolled her eyes and mumbled something under her breath, but she still tilted her head back nonetheless. Carefully, he poured a little bit of milk into her mouth and then he proceeded to pour in chocolate syrup, caramel, and finally some peanuts. "Now swish it in your mouth, chew the peanuts, and then swallow."

He had overfilled everything and she desperately tried not to gag. Her face must have giving her away because he busted out laughing. She mumbled something, but in doing so, she managed to spit some out, which only made him laugh louder.

"Swallow," he eased.

With one large gulp she managed to get it all down. She shot him a glare as she wiped her mouth off with her sleeve. "It was good," she told him eventually, the exact opposite response of what he thought she was going to say.

He leaned in so suddenly, her breath caught in the back of her throat. It was the effects of the alcohol that had compelled him to do it, – no doubt – but just because he was drunk didn't mean he didn't know what he was doing. There was chocolate syrup on her cheek and with the gentle touch of his pinkie, he wiped it away.

Emily felt his breath hot on her cheek and she gave an involuntary shudder at the close contact. Their eyes met, their smiles faded, and just as she was about to close the distance, he said, "You smell like a snickers bar." He smiled widely at her and she couldn't help but laugh out loud.

She punched him lightly. "You're a jackass."

"I prefer charming."

"You wish."

The sound of a can being sprayed caught her attention, so she turned to glance at him. She rolled her eyes at what she saw. "When did you get that?"

"I bought it at the store," he told her, before squirting more whipped cream into his mouth. "Want some?"

She opened her mouth, but let out a shriek of surprise when he intentionally missed her mouth and aimed for her face instead. "Morgan!"

He laughed warmly before returning to attack her with the bottle. By now her face was covered in the dessert, and she fought, but to no avail. Eventually, she gave up altogether and Morgan soon followed.

"Ugh. Look at me," she only half scowled. "I'll have to take another shower."

Without thinking, he said, "Or I could help."

Luckily for the both of them, she was too drunk to care. Frowning, she scraped a handful of the cream off of her face and threw it at him. "Two can play this game," she challenged him, before chucking more his way.

"You're on," he replied, accidentally prodding her in ribs with his finger. She shuffled awkwardly and he smiled foolishly. "You're ticklish?"

"No," she told him, but she squirmed and it gave her away.

He did it again and she laughed despite herself, which only spurred him on. Soon, he was tickling her and she was struggling to breathe. In an attempt to get away, Emily tumbled backwards, but he just went down with her, continuing his onslaught. "Stop," she panted and he only did when she unintentionally arched against him.

A blush crept across her face as she felt him against her thigh. She could see the embarrassment in his eyes, but it was soon replaced with arousal. Bile rose in the back of her throat. They were far too close to each other, mouths separated by mere millimeters. Their drunken eyes met, their smiles faded, and he leaned an almost imperceptible distance closer, effectively closing the gap between them.

Please tell me what you thought! Should I continue?