As a detective for the Virginia PD, you were used to calling in the BAU for strange cases your department couldn’t handle. While you genuinely needed their expertise, you also looked forward to seeing your boyfriend Derek, who worked there. It was nice to see him in such an authoritative role, especially since he was more of a teddy bear at home.

You loved teasing him about this whenever you got the chance. He’d remind you he was the FBI agent and you were just the local detective, often apologizing afterward and saying it was all bureaucratic nonsense. You always accepted his apologies, especially when accompanied by dinner.

Recently, you called the BAU for help on a serial case involving the abduction and torture of young victims. During those intense days, you had little time to connect with Derek, only managing brief exchanges as coworkers. After identifying the unsub through Penelope, the BAU’s analyst, you and your team went to apprehend the suspect, forming a perimeter while the BAU cleared the scene.

There was something about Derek in his FBI vest that made your heart race. The snug fit accentuated his broad shoulders and exuded authority, stirring something deep within you. Once the unsub was caught and the paperwork was done, you and Derek relaxed on the couch, legs draped over his lap. Taking a deep breath, you prepared to make a strange request.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, intrigued, shifting his gaze from the TV.

You hesitated, biting your lip, bracing for his reaction. “You want me to—what? Wear my vest during sex?”