When Emily stepped into her hotel in Southern California on Valentine's evening, something was off.

Her first clue was the blank envelope taped to her door. Inside it were half a dozen candy hearts with the off-putting messages: TEXT ME, MY WAY, ALL MINE, URA TIGER, HOUSE PARTY and FIT FOR LOVE. Emily wrinkled her nose but removed the envelope wondering which member of her team decided to play an asinine prank. Reid and Morgan instantly came to mind, but Emily didn't have the energy to go to their rooms and give them the reaming out they surely deserved.

Making sure the door was closed securely behind her, Emily flipped on the lights and cursed. A dozen red roses sat on the table in the corner. On the bedside table between the beds, there was a bottle of chocolate syrup. Emily sank down onto the bed and reached for the flowers and the bottle of ice cream topping. If Morgan and Reid were going to leave perfectly good roses and chocolate for her, they shouldn't expect to get them back. They could have the chalky candy hearts. After squirting the sweet Hershey's syrup into her mouth and feeling like a kid again, she inhaled the scent of the roses deeply. Finally, Emily set both aside and tried to sleep.

She was in the twilight stage - near sleep but not quite there - when a horrid mix of songs played sensually from the bathroom. Emily sat bolt upright and squinted. It was dark and the door was ajar, just as she'd left it, but now, the not-so-romantic strains of Elton John's Can You Feel The Love Tonight and the even worse early '90s Color Me Badd hit, I Wanna Sex You Up could be heard. Her heart raced and Emily groped for her gun. The restroom light was flipped and the figure of a nude woman was perfectly backlit.

Reaching for the lamp beside the bed with one hand, she located her gun with the other.

"Oh, shit!" the woman screamed and the door was slammed.

"This is special agent Emily Prentiss! Come out with your hands up!"

"Where's Aaron Hotchner? I was told this was his room!" a hysterical voice demanded.

"Who are you?" Emily insisted, still not able to let her guard down. "Identify yourself."

"My name is Beth. I'm Aaron's…" she trailed off, obviously unsure of how to characterize their relationship. A shaking hand appeared around the door, revealing a Virginia driver's license with a picture matching the naked woman that Emily could only see if she squinted. "We were training for a race together. I wanted to surprise him and the lady at the desk told me he was in 222."

"He is. This is 322." Emily sighed, lowering her weapon.

The door to the bathroom eased open, and Beth appeared, fully dressed this time. "I think…I should go…" she said, eyeing the roses and chocolate syrup that were now lying in the empty space beside Emily in bed.

For the first time, Emily noticed the huge boombox Beth was carrying - appropriate, she supposed - for playing an innocent and vulgar mash up of 90's songs.

"I'm…really…really sorry about this," Beth apologized. "I'll just go."

"I think that's a good idea," Emily responded dryly.

The next day, on the jet back to Quantico, Emily casually dropped an item on the table in front of Hotch. Something Emily had missed on her first walk-through of the room, and apparently, Beth forgot it, too, in her rush to get the hell out. Emily had held the offensive object by her thumb and forefinger, examining it, and then made the prompt decision to let Hotch know just what had gone down in the waning hours of Valentine's night.

"What's this?" Hotch asked, distracted. Emily wondered if he had been expecting a visitor last night and was disappointed when she never showed.

"Your…Beth…came to see you last night…" Emily confided softly so as not to disturb the rest of the team who was sleeping in various locations on board. "But because of either an error with room numbers and keys, or dyslexia on the part of your…Beth…she ended up in my room. I enjoyed the chocolate syrup and the roses very much. Please send her my regards. But these…" Emily smirked, dumping the envelope of candy hearts with the first item, "you're welcome to have back."

"She…" Hotch trailed off, setting the newspaper he was reading aside, and really looking at the item in front of him. Watermelon-flavored gummi edible undergarments for men sat on the table, unashamed. The man pictured on the package looked as miserable as Hotch felt. The tips of his ears burned with embarrassment. This could not be happening. He explicitly told Beth that coming out to surprise him while he was on a case was not a good idea. Not even if he knew about it in advance. She, however, was relentless, and apparently, it had come back to haunt her.

"Don't worry. I won't say a word. One thing, though?" Emily whispered, unable to stop the slight twitch of her mouth or the twinkle in her eye. Now that she'd gotten some sleep, and a little perspective, she found the whole matter hilariously funny. The only down side was, there was no one she could tell. Not if she kept her word to Hotch, which she fully intended follow through on.

Hotch eyed her, wincing.

"Please tell me you're not actually into Color Me Badd and Elton John…they just seem…so wrong…especially together like that…"

"I'm sorry… I don't…" Hotch trailed off, confused.

"There was a boombox…which played a curious mix of Disney and R&B music in the moments before the bathroom light was turned on and I…knew I wasn't alone…"

Hotch closed his eyes, at a loss for words.

"Look, I'm fine with…whatever…you two like to do, okay? Just do me one favor?"

"Anything," Hotch managed.

"Make sure she has your key-card. Not my duplicate," Emily said, smiling a little.