(s)he's so life-like

Not that you were really complaining. It was hard to be mad at Emily, for anything really. Okay, it was hard for you to be mad at Emily. Perfect, smart, and gorgeous Emily, who was consuming your every waking thought ever since you had figured out that your attraction to her wasn’t totally platonic after all. Unfortunately, you were convinced that that was all it was for Emily: A totally platonic friendship. That involved a lot of teasing. And the occasional flirty message.

You were certain, that she absolutely did not feel the same way. That she was just being Emily. After all, she had always been like this with you.

"No you don’t," you answer her sincerely, a smile now slowly creeping up your face. 

"They want me to justify kicking down the door during that case we had in Boston a few weeks ago," she claims, looking distraught. "Because apparently the fact that we could hear the Unsub screaming inside wasn’t enough of a reason…"

"Aww, you poor thing."

"I know, right? I am being tortured. This is a hostile work environment. I should be able to sue somebody over this!"

"Em, you’re the one who destroyed private property while on duty…"

"Honey, it’s not like I had a choice!"

The nickname makes your stomach drop. You really should’ve gotten used to it by now, to the names and the teasing. But there was no 'getting used to' when it comes to Emily—at least not for you. 

You hear a quiet snicker from the desk behind you, where Morgan seems to have forgotten all about  distracting Reid from his files, and is suddenly studying his own a little too intently. 

"What?" Your question is laced with genuine confusion.

"What?" He answers innocently, evidently avoiding your previous question, which gets him a warning glance from Emily. Not even a little bit concerned, Morgan just shrugs, smiles, and turns back to his files. Well, at least he pretends to.

"I don’t know why I do this to myself," Emily continues, her focus now back on you. "I should’ve quit months ago!" 

"And leave me all alone in this madhouse? That would qualify as friend-neglect, you know that right?"

"That isn’t even a word!"

"It is now."

Emily grins. "I hate you." 

"No you don’t." You make eye contact with her then, one brow slightly raised as you challenge her to take back that last statement. 

"You’re right, I really don’t… ," she says, her expression softening.

For a second, neither one of you says anything, the tension suddenly palpable in the air. That is until Emily clears her throat and immediately switches back to her (admittedly very good) fake-frown. 

"I still hate this job though, I should totally quit."

"Emily!"

"Awww babe, don’t worry. I would never actually leave you."

You simply stare at her.

Across the room, JJ immediately seems to have forgotten all about the cup of coffee in her hand, Garcia’s focus is locked on the two of you like a sniper who is watching his target, and Reid looked like he was witnessing a successful science experiment.

"Oh come on, you guys cannot be serious," Morgan exclaims as he leans back in his chair.

"What?" You repeat the question from earlier, furrowed brows making your confusion visible.

The other agent dramatically gestures between you and Emily before exasperatedly holding up his hands. "Nothing."

Emily looks like she is about to throw her pen at him. "How about you mind your own business and do your paperwork, huh?"

"I am doing my paperwork," he claims, his tone now defensive.

"You have been staring at the same page for the last 20 minutes…"

"Well, you can’t really blame me for getting distracted, can you?"

"Distracted by what?"

Morgan stares at her, looking absolutely appalled by her answer. "Dude…"

The brunette simply roles her eyes, while you try to bite back a laugh. "You guys are absolutely impossible, you know that right?" Your attempt at staying serious is nothing short of pathetic.

"Oh come on, you love having me around."

"More than anything," you answer without thinking.

***

The team’s banter had quieted down significantly, everyone finally focused on what they should have been doing hours ago. Regardless, you couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander every once in a while, because, unfortunately, it was still pretty hard to focus with Emily sat right in front of you. Much to your surprise, as your eyes wander to her desk once again, she is already looking at you, her dark eyes lost in thought.

"My love, I don’t know about you, but I think somebody should definitely go out and get the team some coffee that is actually drinkable." How Garcia had managed to suddenly appear behind you was beyond you, but there was also no use in questioning anything that had to do with the self-proclaimed 'tech-goddess' of the FBI. 

"Penelope, you’re reading my mind!" The way Emily’s eyes light up at the mere thought of decent coffee almost makes you laugh out loud.

"I know that’s right. Okay well, I’ll just text you everyone’s orders once you’re on the way sooo you guys should totally leave like right now…sounds good? Perfect! Off you go, my lovelies!"

"Wait wha- … Pen, I thought you meant you want me to come with you?"

"No, you see I have some very important stuff to do like right now. Cannot wait. Very unfortunate. Text me when you’re back!"

Before either of you could really process what just happened, Garcia was already out the door and on her way back to her bat cave. 

"Well, I guess its a date," you shrug, already halfway out of your chair. Struggling to find your car keys in the depths of your purse, you are too distracted to notice Emily’s puzzled expression, or the way her eyes snapped up after your previous statement. Neither do you notice Morgan’s raised eyebrows, or the warning gaze the brunette shoots him right after.

When you finally manage to find your keys, Emily hasn’t moved. She’s still sitting behind her desk, eyes trained on you with an expression you can’t quite place. You narrow your gaze: "Something wrong?" 

"Nope," she answers a little bit to fast while rushing to get to her feet. She grabs her jacket form the back of her chair and slips it on in one smooth motion, suddenly seeming very eager to get out of the bull pen. "Let’s go, hon."

There it was again. One of those stupid nicknames that you enjoyed just a little too much.

You’re still hung up on it as the two of you are walking towards the elevator. Purposefully, you try maintaining more space between you and Emily than you usually would. You’re almost dreading the ride down. Because it means being alone with her. And being alone with Emily usually involved letting your guard down sooner or later—something that isn’t particularly helpful if you’re trying to play things cool.

The brunette’s presence is almost overwhelming. You can feel the warmth radiating off of her as she’s standing beside you. You can smell her perfume. And, worse of all, you know she’s looking at you. Again. You stare at the numbers above the elevator doors instead. 

Emily clears her throat. "So, you really think that this is a date?"

Your heart drops, and your quiet "no" comes out too quickly to be entirely convincing. "Uhm I mean…obviously I was just joking."

"Right…obviously." Emily’s teasing smile falters for just one second, but it’s enough to immediately make you regret your answer.

"Although," you add carefully, "I mean I guess it could be."

"What?"

"I mean getting coffee together, some might call that a date."

"Some?"

"Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Prentiss!"

There it was again. That stupid smile that could make you forget about everything. "Wouldn’t dream of it, darling." She winks. The doors open. Your brain short-circuits. 

***

The air inside the coffee shop hits you with its familiar warmth as you slowly make your way up to the counter. The smell of fresh coffee mixes with that of all the different pastries, and somehow you feel at ease. At this point, you’ve been here so many times, you could recite their menu in your sleep—or start working behind the counter yourself. 

While you quickly try to sort through the wide array of beverage orders Garcia had texted you, Emily is already ordering herself. An order you know by heart because you’ve heard it one too many times: One large coffee. Usually black. Sometimes with Splenda.

Today is no different. What IS different, is the fact that she doesn’t stop after her own order to let you do the rest. Instead, she continues to order for you, too. Your exact order. Down to the smallest details.

You’re pretty sure you must have lost control of each and every one of your facial expression while  you keep staring at her, unsure if you had just imagined the whole thing.

"You remembered," you whisper.

Emily shrugs. "Of course I remembered." 

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that some time in the past couple of minutes you must have subconsciously moved closer to each other, your shoulders now slightly brushing against one another. Neither one of you moves away.

It is only when the barista shouts out the insanely large coffee order that the both of you snap out of your trance. In sync, you reach for the two cupholders on the counter, fingers brushing against each other as you both grab one of them. The small touch alone makes your heart skip a beat, and you could have sworn that Emily’s breath hitched just a little bit.

In silence, you make your way back to the car, none of you willing or able to admit that something had shifted between the two of you. Maybe it was finally a shared realization that what you had far exceeded a normal friendship. Or maybe it was just that sometime within the past couple of days, things had gotten weird between you. Not uncomfortable, not ever. But different. 

***

Back at the Bureau, the rest of the team were sprawled around Morgan’s desk, eyes glued to the elevator doors.

"You think they finally admitted it to each other?" Garcia was fidgeting with the end of one of her 'special pens,' as she liked to call them.

JJ snickered. "Not a chance, I am not even sure they admitted it to themselves."

"They are so oblivious, it’s actually painful to watch. The sharpest minds of the FBI, everybody…can’t even admit that they’re madly in love with each other." Morgan leans back in his chair with an exasperated sigh, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Before the others could agree, the high sound of the elevator announces your return. 

In lock step, you make your way across the bullpen. "Secured the goods!" You triumphantly hold up the steaming cups in your hand.

Morgan’s mischievous grin was warning enough that what was to come was most definitely going to be uncomfortable for Emily and you. "How was your date?" 

You were seriously debating to throw his coffee at him right then and there.   

"It wasn’t a date, we just got coffee… because you guys wanted us to," you answer defensively.

"Didn't you call it a date before you left?"

You look at Emily. Emily is already looking at you.

Morgan's smile grows. "You guys are unbelievable, really. Just adm—"

"She was joking," Emily interrupts, a little too eager to get out of the situation.

"Was I?" The words slip out before you can stop them, your face turning red as you quickly try to look anywhere else but at her. Or them.

Morgan's eyebrows shoot upward.

JJ slowly lowers her coffee.

Garcia looks like she might actually explode, and Reid looks back and forth between the two of you as if you were a math equation that was finally adding up.

You immediately regret speaking.

"I meant—"

"No, no," Morgan says, holding up a hand. "Please. Continue."

It is Emily that finally shuts the whole fiasco down: "Okay guys, you had your fun, now for the love of god, please take your coffees and get back to work."

You’re still staring at your feet, hoping that everyone would just let this go, but Garcia wouldn’t be Garcia if she didn’t pressure you until she got every last bit of gossip there possibly was.

"I have been watching this for months, waiting, working my magic. Please, for the love of god…" She looks genuinely frustrated now.

"Watching what?" Emily looks absolutely confused.

Garcia puts her head in her hands while Morgan gently pats her back. "You guys are breaking her," he snickers. And it is right there that Reid suddenly decides this is a good opportunity to contribute:

 "She's referring to the fact that the two of you exhibit several behavioral patterns commonly associated with mutual romantic interest."

You look at him in shock. Emily’s jaw drops. Then her eyes find yours, soft and almost vulnerable. Something clicks in your brain, almost like the final puzzle piece that reveals the entire picture. Oh.

"Alright, I think we have done enough damage for today," Morgan finally breaks the silence.

"Speak for yourself," Garcia mutters under her breath, her grin suggesting that this conversation would be far from over if it were happening on her terms.

One by one, they (finally) disappear into their respective corners of the bullpen, until, eventually, it was just you and Emily again. Neither of you seemed entirely sure what to do with yourselves, your fingers now nervously tapping at the cup of coffee in your hands.

"So…" Emily doesn’t finish her sentence, whatever she had wanted to say disappearing somewhere  on the way from her brain to her mouth.

You manage a small smile. "Yeah…"

That earns you a quiet laugh, Emily’s hands now anxiously rubbing the back of her neck. Was she actually nervous? In the months you had known each other, you had never seen her like this. 

Something warm bloomed in your chest. Maybe you hadn’t imagined all of it—all of the little moments between the two of you that you convinced yourself had meant absolutely nothing. The nicknames, the occasional flirting, touches that seemed to linger just a little bit longer than they would have had to.

There was something soft and unspoken between the two of you now, neither of you daring to say it out loud, but both acutely aware of it. Then, Emily smiles at you:

"Get home safe, hon."

You stomach does its ridiculous flip again.

"Thanks…uhm, you too I mean," you manage to get out before practically sprinting back to your car.

Holy shit.

***

By the time you finally made it home, you had replayed the entire day in your head at least a hundred times—which also meant that you had come to some very important (and unfortunate) realizations:

One: You weren’t as good at hiding your crush as you had hoped…

Two: All of your coworkers know about it.

And three: Emily might actually feel the same way.

Fuck.

You’re still sitting at the edge of your couch, thoughts racing at one hundred miles and hour, when you finally get the courage to pick up your phone.

Your thumb hovers over Emily’s contact for a while. Then you start typing.

I loved our date. X

You stare at it for a few seconds. Definitely too much. You delete it again.

I really enjoyed our not-a-date :)

Better. Safer. Still fucking terrifying. You hit send before you can change your mind again. 

You’re about to throw the phone across the room when you hear its familiar buzz. With a pounding heart, you build up the courage to unlock your screen again.

For what it’s worth, I think we should call it a date.

You stare at the screen, eyes open in shock. Holy fucking shit.

———————————————————————————————————

The comfortable silence you are finding yourselves in is only ever disrupted by the low hum of the car radio, or the occasional clicking sound of the turn signal, as Emily is navigating the way to you apartment like it's the most normal thing in the world. As if she had driven there a thousand times before.

The realization catches you off-guard. In reality, she had only been there once. Relatively early on, when you had only been a part of the BAU for a couple of weeks. Back then, Penelope enthusiastically informed you about "Team Nights," and as the newest member of the team, you had felt obligated to host one yourself. You had spent days dreading it. Worrying that nobody would come, that the evening would be awkward, that you'd somehow embarrass yourself.

But as much as you dreaded the entire experience back then, it turned out to be one of the most fun nights you had had in a long time. Your mind goes back to Derek and Penelope dramatically arguing about everything and nothing, and to the many anecdotes of Spencer being propositioned by various women and being too oblivious to notice it. 

And you remember Emily. Because somehow, your mind seemed to always circle back to her. How you had ended up in the same corner of your couch for most of the evening. You remember the spark in her eyes when you were talking about your favorite books, and her excitement when you kept urging her to tell you all about the passages that had somehow lost their meaning in their English translations. 

The sound of Emily’s voice makes you snap out of the memory. 

“I’m going to find a space to park the car and then walk you up.” Her tone is still soft, but determined at the same time. Technically, you know that there is no use in trying to convince her of simply dropping you off. After all, if Emily has made her mind up about something, there is usually no room for discussion. Regardless, you start one last desperate attempt:

“You know, I can really walk up there myself…you can even see the front door from the street. Em, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me today, but I really think I have wasted enough of your time.”

“And yet I will still be walking you up,” she answers, slightly raising her eyebrow.

“For fucks sake, Emily.”

“What? You know what kinds of people are out there, I am not risking anything!”, the brunette claims, and the determined look on her face almost makes you laugh out loud. You know she is being extremely ridiculous right now, but you also know that arguing with the woman is absolutely pointless.

“I am not going to get snatched by a serial killer within the twenty meters from your car to the front door…”

“You might.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Honey, crazy is my middle name.” The wink she finishes the sentence with almost makes your brain short-circuit, but at least Emily steps out of the car before she can see how viscerally your body just reacted.

Still collecting yourself, you follow the older woman’s lead in getting out of the car, carefully making sure you do not drop one of the jackets in doing so. The cold breeze that is continuously blowing down the quiet street immediately sends a shiver down your spine, making you pull Emily’s leather jacket tighter around your body almost instinctively. If Emily notices, she doesn’t comment on it, and you begin to wonder how she is not actively freezing, given that she is still only wearing her black t-shirt. You both walk quietly side by side, simply enjoying each other’s company. You had noticed this earlier. A couple of weeks ago in fact. How, when you were alone with her, words often seemed superfluous. You both simply understood — understood that what you both sometimes needed the most was being able to enjoy the quiet without being alone. 

With that same understanding, you both slowly made your way up the stairs to your apartment. Emily’s arm was lightly brushing yours with every other step you were taking, the contact sending sparks through your body that you did your best to ignore. 

“You want to come in and warm up for a little bit? I mean I know it’s late and…well uhm…” you ramble as you’re fumbling with your keys.

“I would love that,” Emily states, looking at you with that soft smile that you cherish so much. 

You almost forget how keys work.

Your apartment greets you with a comfortable warmth and the faint scent of wooden furniture that you could somehow never quite get rid off. The streetlights shine softly through the the curtains in your living room, and the trees that line the street in front of the big window are casting slow-moving shadows onto parts of the bookshelf that was taking up the entirety of one of the walls in the room.

“I’m going to make tea,” you mumble, slowly making your way toward the small kitchen isle. Behind you, Emily had already snatched up one of the books that, until a few seconds ago, had been part of a small stack on your couch table, and was now comfortably lounging in the big cushions of the sofa. She looked incredibly relaxed, in a way you had rarely seen her. Not at work at least. Emily Prentiss was always calm, calculated, and rarely visibly shaken by anything. To any outsider she seemed unbreakable. But the team could see the cracks in the mask she was wearing. You could see the cracks. Emily too was not unbreakable, as much as she probably wished she was. The sight of her being so comfortable in your space sends a pleasant twist through your chest. What hell is happening, you ask yourself while forcing yourself to look away from the brunette and finally redirecting your attention towards the boiling kettle.

Two mugs filled to the brim with steaming tea in hand, you carefully make your way back towards the couch a few minutes later. Emily immediately looks up from the book in her hand as you’re approaching her. “You need help?”, she asks while already frantically shifting around whatever was still on the coffee table in front of her to make space for the mugs. 

“I’ve got it,” you mumble while slowly setting them down, and while also carefully considering the best spot to sit on the couch. Can’t be too close to her, that would definitely make it weird. But too far away would probably make her suspicious, and you were definitely not in the mood of explaining to her that, at the moment, it was somehow impossible for you to sit close to her without dying of a heart attack. Or a stroke. Or both.

You eventually settle on a distance that feels safe enough to preserve your dignity, while still somewhat resembling normal human behavior.

“You know, I am kind of having deja-vu right now,” Emily states after her first sip of tea.

“You are?”, you ask, looking slightly confused. She nods.

“The first time you hosted the Team Night…you’re even wearing the same shirt.”

You groan: “Oh great, now that just sounds like I only own ONE shirt. Wait. Why do you even—“

“I mean,” she says innocently, “if you’re so desperately in need to borrow a couple of shirts from me, you could’ve just asked.”

Your minds goes blank for a second. What. What the fuck.

“Ha-ha, you are soooo funny,” you answer, your voice laced with sarcasm.

“I do tend to find myself absolutely hilarious.” Her grin almost makes you die on the spot.

Emily lowers her gaze back to her tea, and it is then that you feel the mood in the room shift subtly. You can basically hear the wheels in her brain turning as she is figuring out how to say whatever it is she’s thinking about. The past few months had made you very good at that, figuring out her tells. Much to Emily’s demise. You now notice the slight hesitation. The careful look she always had when she was deciding how to bring up something difficult.

Your stomach tightens as the brunette absentmindedly keeps tracing circles around the mug.

“So uhm,” you had never seen Emily look this uncertain before, “I am not trying to ruin the mood. And I am also not trying to make you uncomfortable by picking at the same thing over and over again…” Your heart sinks. “I just — I don’t know, I think we should talk about earlier again.”

You immediately look away. “There is nothing to talk about.”

“Darling, come on!”

“There really isn’t.”

Emily places her mug on the table, and you can tell she’s thinking of how to further approach this conversation. Before she can respond, you take matters into your own hands:

“Look, I had a small break down because it has been a really long day, the bar was way too stuffy, and I got overwhelmed, okay? It’s really not that serious, and I am sorry you had to be there to witness it, that was really unprofessional of me. So can we please just pretend none of this happened?”

“No we can’t.”

“What?”

“I am sorry to break this to you, but no. I am not just going to pretend none of this happened. You had a full blown panic attack, for god’s sake!” She was getting visibly frustrated now.

“Emily, I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Please, I–“ Your voice breaks again, for the second time that evening.

“Oh honey, it’s okay.” Emily is by your side almost instantly, pulling you into her arms. “You’re okay.”

You try to pull away at first, desperate to keep yourself from completely falling apart. Again. But there really was no use. She is already holding onto you as though she’s trying to save you from being swept away by a flood, her grip unwavering but gentle. One arm wraps around your waist, her warm hand tracing slow circles across your back, while the other cradles the back of your head. As you’re pressed against her side, your face buried in the crook of her neck, you stop fighting it. Silent tears slowly start to stream down your cheeks as Emily keeps physically holding you together. 

Goddamn it, you think, what on earth are we doing?

“Look, what I was trying to say is…” Emily’s voice is quiet now, soothing almost. “You need to stop always convincing yourself that there is something wrong with you, okay? You’re allowed to break down sometimes, hell, especially with this job. And it’s okay to ask for help if you’re in a situation like today. Yes, we’re all colleagues, but we are also you friends. Family, even. And we care about you, alright?”

You swallow hard, staring at a random picture on your wall, simply to avoid having to lock eyes with Emily. Your head spins with a dozen different possible responses, yet none of them make it out. You give a small nod instead. She gently pulls you even closer. 

“And about the uhm… other situation…” Emily continues. “There is no need to be ashamed of any of that, okay? But I do think you should talk to people about it, it’s good to get everything off your chest every once in a while. I mean you’re obviously very worked up about all of it. And if ‘people’ is not me, fine…” She pauses for a second. “Although I would be mildly offended, because if there is one person who understands the struggles of lesbianism, it’s me…” The last sentence earns her a watery snicker from you. And although you cannot see Emily’s face, you know she’s smiling too. 

Her arms remain around your body, grounding you, and every once in a while she absentmindedly plays with strands of your hair.

You know you should say something. Hell, you want to say something. That, at least technically, you know that she’s right. That what happened at the bar was simply the last straw, the final spark that set the explosion off. A combination of stress, exhaustion, not enough hours of sleep, a lot of repressed feelings about…well everything. 

And a realization that just now started to creep up on you. That part of the reason you’ve been spiraling wasn’t just your newfound gay-awakening, but rather the fact that somewhere along the way, you made the mistake of getting a crush on your colleague. Your friend. 

Well fuck.

The realization sits heavy in your chest, but tonight you will not be discussing any of this with her. As a matter of fact, there is now way you were going to tell her about this. Ever. Probably.

You release a deep breath you have been holding for far too long.

“This sucks ass.”

Emily snorts. “Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

A quiet laugh escapes you, and the warmth of her beside you makes your chest ache. Not in the painful way from before, though. Softer, like your body knew that you were going to be okay. Eventually at least. 

“You know, for someone whose job is literally helping people, you are remarkably bad at letting people help you.” You can feel her soft breath in your hair.

“Oh I think that’s why they hired me in the first place — part of the job description, ya know? It’s not like you’re any better at this than I am…”

“Touché.”

You roll your eyes. She really is insufferable some times. Still, a smile tugs at your lips.

After that, the conversation gets easier again. Sometime between meaningless rambles about everything and nothing, Emily had turned the TV on, but none of you were really paying attention to it anyways. What you were focused on, was the fact that you are still in the older woman’s arms — and that she did not seem to plan on letting go anytime soon. Her voice is soft as she is talking about something that happened a few weeks earlier, or maybe she’s complaining about the people on television, you don’t quite succeed at figuring that out because the exhaustion of the day seems to suddenly have caught up with you.

There was something incredibly relaxing about all of this. The both of you on your couch, so close to each other that you could quite literally hear the other person’s heartbeat. Your eyelids drift shut for a second. You tell yourself that you’re still awake, that you’re simply resting your eyes for a little bit. Instead, Emily’s voice fades more and more into the background, her fingers carefully playing with strands of your hair. 

Then, sleep finally claims you.

What you don’t notice anymore, is how Emily almost stops breathing when she notices, scared that just the smallest movement might wake you up again. And how she looks at you in her arms as if you are the most precious thing she has ever come across until, finally, sleep catches up with her too.

———————————————————————————————————

“Woah, hey! It’s okay, it’s just me… it’s just me.” Her dark eyes that were always so fierce and full of determination were now filled with worry.

“I’m sorry… You don’t have to be out here. I’m fine. Just go back to the others,” your words come out barely louder than a whisper.

“Absolutely not. You just practically ran out of there, and now you’re standing here in the cold, white as a ghost and crying. There is no way I am leaving!”

“Please Emily, I’m sorry for making such a fuss, I-” you try to muffle a sob that escapes your lips with your hand. “Please just go back inside.”

She shifts beside you, but instead of turning back to the entrance the brunette moves directly in front of you. “Honey”, she whispers, her hands now faintly touching your arms just above your elbows. “I am not leaving you.” That last statement sends a new wave of sobs through your body, which you—unsuccessfully, judging by Emily’s tightening grip on your arms—try to repress.

“I need you to try and breathe with me, okay?” Without looking up, you nod. It’s subtle, but Emily still notices. She always does.

Seconds, and then minutes, go by. A quiet understanding between the two of you. Words unspoken hang in the air, supported by the small circles Emily’s thumbs traced on your arms. It is only when your breathing finally returns to normal, and the tears stop falling, that you notice how cold it is outside. A small gush of wind sends shivers down your spine, leading Emily to immediately take off her jacket. 

“Take it”, she demands as she dangles the leather jacket between the two of you.

“Damn it Emily, I’m fine. I’m not taking your jacket.”

“You are literally shivering, now put the jacket on before I have to force you into it.” Her gaze is stern. The type that lets you know that there is no use in arguing with her right now.

“You are insane”, you muffle under your breath. On another day you might have argued with her, but even if you did not want to admit it: You were freezing. And exhausted.

“I’m a gentleman”, she retorted, a smug grin now settling on her face. After a short period of comfortable silence, her facial expressions shift ever so slightly. “Are you ready to tell me what happened in there earlier?” She does not force an answer out of you. Instead, the question is laced with understanding. And concern.

You tense. What had happened earlier? The team had went out for drinks after they had solved their latest case. Garcia even managed to force Hotch to come with for at least one beer. The evening was filled with light banter, Reid rambling on about the daily average amount of alcohol consumption in D.C., and the occasional flirting between Morgan and Garcia. Everything was great until JJ came up with the brilliant idea of a game of truth or dare. Since you had just joined the team a couple of months ago, and since then also had successfully avoided most of the after-work party escapades, it really came to no surprise.

Honestly, it all went pretty well at first. Most of the others had chosen dares, which lead to some very funny (and sometimes slightly awkward) encounters with other guests at the bar, but it all went sideways when it was your turn. Morgan had asked the one question you had dreaded forever: Well, Hot Stuff? There must be a boyfriend you have been keeping from us! Or at least a crush we need to know about? Spill the tea. Now, in no way was that question inherently bad, and in any other situation you could have easily made up a little white lie to make the situation less awkward. But things are different when you’re out with a group of FBI profilers. They would have spotted a lie from a mile away. “No boyfriend”, you had claimed. Not a lie, but also far from the whole truth. Naturally, the team had continued plastering you with questions of potential crushes, even going as far as searching for potential suitors for you in the crowd, while you had started to feel more and more uneasy — and also suddenly painfully aware of Emily’s thigh touching yours. 

The faint touch of a hand on your shoulder made you snap out of the memory: “Hey, come on. Talk to me.”

“How did you know you like girls?”, you blurt out, not daring to look into the older Agent’s eyes.

“Is that what this is about?” You could here the hesitation in her question. Like she had to really process what you had just said. When you did not answer, she continued. “I suppose I’ve always kind of liked women, I just did not realize that they were crushes until I was in my teens. Honestly, I could only ever really imagine myself with another girl. When I was old enough, I kind of tested the waters. I don’t know how much you’ve heard of my mom, but she’s more the… traditional…type. I had had a couple of boyfriends, nothing really serious but…you know how it is. A little later, I had my first girlfriend.  My mother caught us kissing in my bedroom and freaked out. I didn’t care, somehow. Because I had never felt more alive. That’s when I knew that boys were just not going to happen for me again.” She hesitates for a short moment, trying to see some sort of reaction from you. “Honey, why are you asking this now?”

“I- … I don’t know, Em. I’m just so confused…I don’t know what’s happening. It just feels like I’m drowning in all these different emotions and realizations I can’t quite process — I have no idea what the fuck is wrong with me!” That’s when the tears start to fall for the second time that evening. You slide to the ground, your back still against the wall, hands now in front of your face.

In less than a second, Emily is sat right next to you, and your breath hitches when she gently pulls your ice-cold hands from your face, firmly holding them in her own. She doesn’t push you to continue, but instead she patiently waits, her touch grounding you.

“You know I’ve never been in a relationship? Heck, I haven’t even kissed anyone. You know how pathetic you must be to not be able to make somebody like you enough to be more than friends just once??” You don’t notice Emily tense at your harsh words, too focused on avoiding her gaze. 

“I have always been told that the right guy will come at the right time, but after a while I just stopped getting my hopes up. For years I have been telling everyone that I simply choose not to be in a relationship right now. That I am somehow choosing myself. But the truth is: I didn’t. I didn’t choose this. But now I’m suddenly considering that maybe I did subconsciously choose not to try dating men because I actually liked women all along, which is fucking terrifying to think about. But like, how would I even know?”

Emily let out a deep breath before shifting her gaze from your clasped hands up to your eyes. “So, the thought of us finding out that you have never been in a relation ship, and the possibility of you being gay scared you so much that you had a literal panic attack?”

It is only when you work up the courage to really look at her that you notice the slight glossiness of her eyes. “Well, if you put it like that it sounds pathetic…”

“Would you stop with that word?”, she hisses. “You are not pathetic, there is nothing wrong with how you feel, and I-“, this time it is her voice that quivers. “I’m just so sorry that thought you couldn’t trust us with this. Could’t trust me with this.” 

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Em. Please. You and the rest of the team have been nothing but welcoming and supportive ever since I have joined the BAU. And I know how much of a privilege it is to have all of you trust me — literally with your lives. I just get too much into my head sometimes and… well I’m sorry for not giving you the same trust that you gave me.”

You could’t quite place the other Agent’s facial expression, but something between concerned and analytical seemed the most fitting. 

“You know, you tend to do that a lot”, Emily stated. “Finding ways to put the blame on yourself, I mean…”

You shrug. Then both of you let out a deep breath, the air heavy with words spoken and unspoken.

Once again, it is Emily that breaks the silence that seemed to linger between the two of you: “You ready to head back inside?”

“Actually, I think I’m calling it a night… Thank you. For staying with me I mean. And for listening”, you reach for the phone in your pocket.

“What do you think your doing?”

“Calling a Taxi?”

“Absolutely not, I’m driving you home!”

“Emily, no! You should go back to the others. I’m not ruining your night even more.”

“First of all: you didn’t ruin my night. Second of all: I would have left soon one way or another. And third of all: you’re apartment is literally on the way. So stop trying to argue with me.”

So you did. Because if there was one thing everyone knew about Emily Prentiss, it’s that there is absolutely no use in arguing with her if she has already made up her mind about something.

Still trying to find a way to somehow make her stay, you are suddenly pulled back onto your feet by the brunette.

“Wait here, I’m just gonna go and get my bag”, she hesitates for a second, looking you up and down. “And you jacket…I’ll be right back.”

It’s only then that you realize that you’re still wearing the leather jacket that smelled so much like its owner. 

Who had not stopped holding your hand until just mere seconds ago. 

And who you now wished had never let go.

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