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ROSALIE looked down at the letter in her hands, running her fingers over the FBI seal at the top of the paper. She exhaled, before she pushed her hair behind her ears. She had put her three weeks notice in as soon as Matteo came home, well, a day or so afterwards. She had talked it over with her parents, and they were okay with her going back to Quantico. They had never wanted her to leave in the first place.
Welcome back, Ms. Salvatore. We're grateful to have you back.
She looked over at her laptop and saw the email form Gideon she had read over at least 5 times, before shutting the device and setting it on her mom's kitchen table.
"Rosalie," Nehavah came in the kitchen, in a floral dress and barefoot. "Your boyfriend's here," she teased, a grin on her face.
Dominic snorted as he came in to grab the bag of limes. "Don't go around saying that, Hav. I like Derek, but don't give me a reason not to like him."
Rosalie snorted. "First off, he isn't my boyfriend, he's a friend. Secondly, Dom, even if he was, would that be a bad thing?"
"It wouldn't be, but that would require me giving him a stern talking to about the matters of my little sister's heart."
Rosalie rolled her eyes before kissing her older brother's cheek. "Get back to the grill before you burn the steak and chicken and we have nasty tacos," she told him in Spanish, hearing Marco run through the house as he heard Derek's voice.
"Derek!" He yelled, and instantly, Derek went into a squat to pick the four year old.
"Little man," he chuckled, accepting the hug Matteo gave him. He set him down with a playful groan, before Matteo ran into the kitchen to his aunt, pulling her hand to bring her over to Derek.
"Hey," Rosalie greeted softly, and Derek smiled, tilting his head.
"Hey."
Rossi, Reid, JJ, and Prentiss were casually looking at pictures behind Derek, and she softly hummed as she quirked an eyebrow at them, before she nodded. "Where's Hotch?"
"In the backyard," Spencer replied before going back to the picture of her as a little girl, sitting on her dad's shoulders.
"Mm," Rosalie hummed, before she turned on her heel some, before waving a hand. "Well, come on. Dinner should be ready soon." She walked past the files on her mother's kitchen table, closing them shut. Since she wouldn't be at Quantico for another three weeks, they had went ahead and sent her cases for her assessment — on their urgency, threat, and evidence. She pushed her shoulders back, and Derek watched her flex a little as she stretched in her olive green racerback tank top, her legs appearing longer in the denim shorts she was wearing and that she was also sort of barefoot, before slipping on her tan sandals.
