The bullpen was unusually quiet, not with tension, but peace—the kind that only came when no case file was sitting on the conference table. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of clicking keyboards and occasional bursts of laughter.

Garcia, dressed in a galaxy-patterned cardigan and sparkly purple glasses, leaned dramatically over Morgan’s desk. "Tell me, chocolate thunder," she said with a wink, "how is it fair that you eat six doughnuts and still have abs while I look at a croissant and gain three pounds?"

Morgan smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Because, baby girl, this body is a temple. I do two hundred pushups just thinking about doughnuts."

Reid, balancing a mug with a mismatched pair of socks peeking from under his slacks, piped up from across the room. "Actually, studies show that metabolic rates can vary significantly depending on factors like age, muscle mass, and genetics. Derek’s muscle-to-fat ratio—"

JJ cut him off mid-sentence with a grin. “Spence, I swear, if you quote one more obscure journal article before I've had my second coffee, I’m putting decaf in your mug tomorrow.”

Rossi, carrying a steaming mug from the break room, chimed in. “Let the kid talk. At least I learn something in the morning before my brain fully boots up.”

Hotch walked in then, coffee in hand, eyebrows raised slightly at the chatter but no sign of irritation on his face—only the ghost of a smile. "Sounds like the team's in top form. No urgent files, so I suppose this is what 'normal' looks like."

Emily was perched on her desk, tossing a stress ball in the air. "Define normal. Reid’s explaining metabolism, Garcia’s planning a digital wardrobe heist, and Morgan’s doing imaginary pushups.”

Garcia pointed dramatically at Emily. "Don't mock the wardrobe heist. I’m just saying, the Quantico dress code could use a little sparkle."

Rossi nodded solemnly. "Just don't bedazzle my vest. That’s vintage Italian."

A comfortable silence fell for a moment before Reid, now visibly deep in thought, said, “Technically, if we measured all of our combined IQs, we’d probably be the smartest bullpen on federal property.”

JJ looked around the room, a fond smile on her face. “And the weirdest.”