#cmfic

You cough, eyes watering. “Get back into bed you mad woman.”

You were beginning to consider contacting Garcia to see if she could find you somewhere else to sleep, but that would mean exposing yourself to the harsh air of the awful hotel room (and yes while you had faced down multiple serial killers and run into burning buildings — the cold was proving to be your downfall). You glare at the sputtering heater and it’s piss-poor attempt of providing any warmth to the space.

You were going to wake up with frostbite.

Or worse you weren’t going to wake-up at all.

“Here.” Emily murmurs, draping the heavy blanket from her bed over you. “You take it.”

Your eyes widen as you try to spot her face in the dark. “What?” You squawk. “No! You'll freeze!”

“It's okay.” She says softly, “I'm not that cold. And you clearly need it more than me.”

“No. Not happening.” You shake your head stubbornly, sitting upright, goosebumps erupting over your skin as they're exposed to the chilly air. You blindly reach for her hand and aren't surprised when you come into contact with icy fingertips.

“Emily,” You sigh.

She tugs her hand from your grip. “I'm fine.”

You hold back an eye roll.

“You're incredibly chivalrous, but if you're not going to take it back then you're going to have to get in here with me.”

“What?” She questions, dumbfounded.

“You heard me.” You smirk, scooting up the bed to make room for her. You peel back the covers, “Get in, quick. It's cold.”

“I'm not—”

“Em, In. Now.” You snap, curtly as a shiver courses through your body.

She grumbles but does as she's told, sliding under the covers with a sigh.

You shuffle down, automatically burrowing towards the warmth and incidentally towards her. A nervous smile lights up your face as you lie on your side and her delicate features are finally revealed to you. You've never been this close to her before, able to track each individual eyelash and it makes your stomach flutter.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hello.” Emily responds, her eyes twinkling as her chapped lips spread into a soft smile.

You beam. Biting your lip to stop yourself before it spreads into something ridiculously cheesy. Something that you were pretending so wasn't a problem right now.

“Now that wasn't so difficult was it.” You tease.

She rolls her eyes, “Someone had to do something to stop your incessant teeth chattering.”

“Excuse me for being cold.” You huff, poking her playfully in the chest beneath the warming covers.

“You're just always so dramatic about it.” She jokes. Her hand catches yours before you can take it back, her brows drawing together. Your heart flutters, as you track her delicate features: the crease of her brow, her open mouth and slightly chapped lips—

"Are you any warmer?" She asks.

You sigh, pushing through your haze. "A little." Your body felt warmer, the body heat Emily was emitting helping much more than the blanket, but your hands and feet were still hanging a bit behind.

"Good." She breathes, her cool fingers rubbing against yours and trying to return heat to the digits.

Your breath stutters. "Sure, this wasn't some gigantic ploy to warm yourself up?" You enclose your other hand over hers, trapping it between yours and rubbing gently to help return warmth to her fingers.

Her brows crinkle, clearly unimpressed and not entirely sure how she'd become the recipient in this scenario. Still, she doesn't pull away which you're grateful for. Instead, watching attentively as your hands heat hers.

The wind howls outside, loud and wrathful, but you pay it no mind. The cold that had been all-consuming moments before, now becoming a distant memory as you warm your hands together. You spare a thought to the fact your hands look good intertwined together before you mentally hit yourself.

Ridiculous.

You chance a glance at Emily’s face. Her gaze hasn’t left your hands, a thoughtfulness in her brows, that you ache to kiss away.

She must feel your gaze because she reluctantly lifts her head. Her eyes shine for just a second and then she blinks and it’s gone. So quickly you aren’t sure what it means.

An easy smile takes over her face, "What were we— right." She clears her throat. "Ploy. No. You're great, but I was thinking it was either this or shipping you off to sleep with Reid. And that felt unfair to both of you."

"You think I'm great?" You grin, tongue jutting out between your teeth. And then frowning when her other words process, "Wait—"

She chuckles, her eyes lighting up. "You're unbelievable."

"Can’t a girl enjoy a compliment." You huff.

"Hm.” She muses, her head shifting on the pillow. “I think you're great. And funny. And incredibly smart—"

Humour coats her every word. She's teasing. Trying to rile you up and it was working just not in the way she wanted.

"Emily," You shake your head, your smile fading away.

"—You're thoughtful and kind. Even when you shouldn't be.” Her voice turns soft, her eyes dancing over your features. “You have the prettiest eyes I think I've ever seen. You're beautiful—"

You struggle to remember how to breath, your body reacting even as you try to keep your composure. "Stop,"

"—Incredibly beautiful. Distractingly beautiful. Make it difficult for me to do my job sort of beautiful." She whispers, trapping you with her deep stare.

Your eyes scan her face as your mouth opens and closes. The joke was over, this was too soft, too intimate. Too close to the the part of yourself that you’ve spent years ignoring.

You blink, tears ghosting your eyes as you fear giving in. "You don't mean that."

She sighs, her eyes not leaving yours as she responds, "I really do."

"Emily," You utter in disbelief, bringing yourself closer to her. Her hand lands on your waist, stroking gently and sending prickles of electricity firing through your body. You stare at her stunning coffee brown eyes, tears in your own, as her warm breath hits your lips.

You gently cup her cheek, caressing the soft skin, eyes widening in disbelief as her breath falters.

“I…” You murmur, heart pounding. Unsure what to say.

Her fingers squeeze on your waist, pulling you closer and finally closing the distance. Your lips colliding in soft, delicate kisses. You clutch at her, pulling her tighter to you. Something between a sob and a sigh escaping your lips.

“Emily,” You exhale, pulling away when breathing becomes necessary.

She smiles. Her hands cupping your face and soft eyes taking note of your kiss-stained lips before she dips her head and begins peppering kisses all over your face — your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your forehead, even your eyebrows — as you giggle loudly in surprise.

You catch her before she can draw back, kissing her lips through a smile.

“You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” You whisper.

Emily’s brows lift, “No I’m pretty sure you have that one covered too.”

She caresses your cheek gently and you lean into the pressure, placing a soft kiss against her palm. “Well, we’ll need to come to some sort of agreement.”

Her eyes twinkle. “Hm,” She dips her head, kissing you again. “How do you plan we do that?”

“I was thinking we start with a lot more kissing and go from there.” You whisper, your eyes not leaving her lips.

She kisses you again, her breath hot and making your toes curls. “And this will help us how?”

“I’m not sure but it’s a good starting point. Right?” You mumble, drawing her back to your mouth for another tender kiss.

“Definitely.” She hums, her mouth meeting yours again.

“Ma'am?” The detective calls.

Emily rolls her eyes. How many times?

“You can go. There's nothing here.” She shouts back, not bothering to turn around.

Tara smirks, waiting until she hears the officers retreating steps before she responds. “Nothing? This is a teenage—”

“Love nest.” Emily interrupts dryly. Her eyes twinkle, betraying her, as Tara lets out a sharp laugh.

“Yep. Love nest.” Tara nods, amused.

Emily feels weak the way her eyes linger on the other woman's smile. Emily's face is a mess, her skin blotchy from the cold, but Tara…Tara just seemed to glow. Her deep brown eyes beautifully distracting and seeming to shine only more than normal in the cold. Emily's brain hums, captivated.

“But you still never answered my question.”

Emily's gaze stakes away, trying to cover up her distraction. Hoping maybe those officers will come back and she can use them as an escape.

She licks her lips. Clears her throat. Her heart beating loudly in her chest. She doesn't want to confess this. Tara watches her with a tilted head and a kind smile, and that familiar sense of self loathing crawl up Emily's spine even as she holds her head high.

“No.” She declares.

Tara shrugs, sighing. “Me either.”

Emily does not believe that for one second. Tara was— She cuts her thought off there.

“Oh come on, you?” She scoffs, “No way. People must have been lining down the block.”

“Not as popular in 1980's Germany as one might expect.” She tuts, her twinkling eyes dimming.

Emily ducks her head. “Right.” She sighs, looking back at the tree. The innocence. Youth. Happiness. Everything it represents, everything she wasn't.

“Do you remember being this young?” She asks, licking her lips. Her brows drawn together as she steps closer to the carving. “Still believing love like this existed?”

“I don't think I ever stopped believing.” Tara responds, drawing the other woman's gaze away from the tree. She watches her with a troubled expression, a deep frown sitting between her brows.

Emily cheeks tinge pink, and she quickly pulls on a smirk. Always ready to hide behind a joke. “And you still let Garcia campaign alone for that rom-com movie marathon. I bet you were heartbroken when she didn't get the votes.” She sighs, “But it's okay, your secret is safe with me, Agent Romantic.”

“I don't think I've ever been accused of being a romantic before.” Tara laughs, tilting her head and starring into Emily's eyes so deeply that Emily struggles to remember how to breathe. “Maybe I just never accepted pragmatism.”

Tara looks to the tree, blinking. “And I don't think you should either.” She mumbles to herself thoughtfully.

Emily frowns, catching every word. “I don't think—”

Tara unclips her knife from her belt and flicks it out, and Emily's eyes widen. “Tara—” She protests. “Don't—”

Emily groans as the knife connects with the side of the trunk. “What are you doing?” She beseeches. She looks over her shoulder to ensure no one else had suddenly appeared — because she had no idea how she'd explain this away — and then steps closer, trying to see the shape Tara was carving.

“Let the master work will you.” Tara remarks, her dark eyes turning back to meet Emily's when she gets just a bit too close in her attempt to see.

Emily's heart beats loudly in her chest. Her breath faltering. Stuck in a trance. The other woman's lips, plump and glistening and just—

“Prentiss,” Tara cocks her head, her lips tilting up.

She clears her throat, stepping backwards and nearly stumbling over a tree root in her efforts. “Sorry.” She mumbles, her face flushing pink.

Tara continues working. The only sounds reaching Emily's ears is her own erratic heartbeat as she tries to dislodge the image of Tara's face from her mind, and the sound of metal scraping against bark as Tara continues to whittle away unperturbed.

“Voilà.” Tara grins proudly, stepping back to reveal her work.

Emily's mouth drops open, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as her brows draw together in confusion. It didn't make sense. An E and a T in a surprisingly well carved heart. Emily looks at Tara, her palms sweating. “I don't…”

Tara shrugs, a sheepish smile lifting up her lips as she kicks the ground. “I know it's not the same, but this way we can both have the memory.”

Emily blinks. And then blinks again. Her heart in her throat and tears building behind her eyes. “I— Tara—” She chokes helplessly, staring at the wonderful woman that had so simply healed a childhood scar she didn't even know she possessed.

“Unfortunately, it is missing the je ne sais quoi that makes it love nest potential.” Tara quips.

“Yeah?” Emily laughs, choked. “How so?”

“Mhm.” Tara hums, “Well I mean firstly we're not madly in love.”

Emily's breathing falters and she swallows around nothing as Tara's voice wavers. They stay trapped in each other gazes before Tara blinks, clearing her throat and pulling a carefree smirk back to her lips. “And crucially we're not high on teenage hormones.”

“Right.” Emily nods, licking her lips. “Yeah. Those are crucial requirements.”

“Pivotal, really.” Tara nods, a husk in her voice.

Emily's gaze returns to the tree. Her brows furrowing. Her fingers itch with the need to touch and, for once, she gives in. Stepping forward and tracing the carving carefully, her breath stuck in her throat.

Emily can feel the burning of Tara's stare so isn't surprised when she lifts her gaze and finds the taller woman watching her. Tara's brow crease, a silent question.

“Thank you.” Emily whispers, wishing she could formulate better words but hoping Tara understood the gravity regardless.

“Of course.” Tara nods, smiling.

Emily breathes. Tara's hand sways in the sun and she thinks about grasping it, tangling their fingers together, and finally saying fuck it.

Her phone rings loudly, and her smile melts away. She doesn't meet Tara's eyes as she reaches for it.

“Prentiss.” She answers, turning away from the tree. Her voice faltering when she hears Tara's sigh.

She had a job to do.

You chew on your lip and without breathing lift your knuckle to knock three times before you can talk yourself out of it. The sound rings loudly down the hallway making you wince. You wait. Your feet shifting beneath you as you continue to tug at your lip, pulling at it hard until the skin breaks and blood spews out.

It takes a moment but movement sounds through the door. And your heart skips a beat as a wave of anticipation hits. You adjust your grip on the folder, steadying yourself as you tug your lip into your mouth to hide the evidence of the bloody mess you'd made, blowing out a breath as the door opens and light spills out into the hallway.

Emily arches a brow. Her grey hair tied back out of her freshly cleaned face, evident from the few wet whispers of hair stuck to her head. She's still dressed though, the same navy cotton t-shirt and black slacks from earlier just sans her belt, boots, and watch.

"Everything okay, L/N?" She asks, a note of amusement in her tone as her eyes fall to your slipper clad toes which were notably not hotel-issue.

Heat creeps through your body as you resist the urge to shift on your feet. You'd had them packed in your go-bag since your second case. Needing a piece of home with you while you were away. Something to help you feel more steady and sure of yourself.

"I—uh," You stammer, swallowing as you struggle to look at your boss who always makes your palms sweat and heart stammer. "I think I have something." You hold out the folder like a lifeline. "For the case."

Her head tilts, her smile twitching. "Well, you better come in then." She says.

Your eyes widen. Your throat going dry as you nod and step forward. "O-okay."

You're not really sure what you're expecting from the unit chief of the BAU's hotel room but it's exactly the same as yours, which in hindsight should have been obvious. The FBI wasn't splurging on more expensive rooms depending on seniority. You guess maybe you just expected an insight into her, but the room had no personality beside the ugly hotel room art. It was spotless. The only evidence there was someone occupying the room were the case files spread across the desk, seemingly not long abandoned if the glow emitting from the lamp was anything to go by — which did fill you with momentary relief as you obviously weren't the only one who couldn't rest — and her boots and coat by the door. Everything else seemed to be hidden away in wardrobes and draws.

You guess after all her years as an Agent this was normal. But still, it felt so clinical. Which despite the persona your boss liked to portray, you knew she was full of warmth.

Your eyes land back on Emily and you realise she's been watching you take it all in. Her expression blank, giving nothing away of what she's thinking. Embarrassment prickles at your skin.

"So, what do you have?" She asks, pulling out a chair and signally you to sit.

You chew at your scabbing lip as you scramble to follow her orders. You open the case folder, splaying it out on the desk with your notes for her to see. "I've got a theory for the murders." You breathe, looking at your boss through your lashes.

"Go on." She urges, brows furrowed as she looks at the file.

"We know the unsub is murdering sex workers in the day, outside of their 'typical' environment, right? We've established already that he must of had prior contact with the victims because they aren't random women."

"Yes." She agrees.

"But we haven't figured out why he's doing this. And I think that's because we've been asking the wrong question. Usually these guys kill these woman out of hate, they want to clean the streets, right? I don't think that's what our guy wants at all. I think he cares for these woman in his own twisted way."

Emily's brows rise as she listens intently. Confidence swarms in your chest. You know you're right about this.

You point to a place in the file. "You see here, the first kill site. That first murder. I think this was the trigger. It was a supermarket. We were right it being his first kill, it was rushed and impulsive. But more than that I think he was one of our first victim's customers and seeing her out in public, outside of this box he'd prescribed her too broke the facade and sent him into a frenzy. He felt betrayed so he killed her."

She nods. "But what about the others? A restaurant, a school, a pharmacy. I don't think he's stumbling across all these women."

"I think he started stalking them. I think he now views them as liars and waits for them to do something that distorts his image of her." You point to your picture of the first victim. "They all resemble her, and there was a slight pause between those murders so I think this is all because of her."

She tilts her head, thinking it through. "It's interesting that he didn't harm the baby if the third victim being a mother was the thing that set him off. We thought he was too focused on the goal." She tilts her head, connecting the dots aloud. "Which still could be true. And I think your theory is right, but I think maybe he see's himself in the child. Maybe his mother was a sex worker." Her eyes widen, her eyes landing on you.

"Then there's a chance she might have a record right? We could track him through her?" You ask, trying not to shake in your chair. A wide smile taking over your face.

"It's a long shot, but—" She she pulls her phone from her slacks to phone Garcia, "We've had longer."

You sit waiting as your boss explains the key details to Garcia to help with her search. You aren't sure whether you should excuse yourself now you've finished talking. You busy yourself tidying up your files in preparation, listening to Emily and Garcia's easy rapport, the way they bounce off each other with humour and care embedded into each word. You could only hope for that kind of connection with them.

You think you're getting there maybe with Garcia. But she's so kind to everyone. And actually the whole team: Tara, Luke, JJ — they'd all been so welcoming and encouraging, even Rossi when he wasn't having a breakdown. But your boss still felt like this enigma to you. The walls around her coming down for everyone apart for you.

Garcia's voice breaks through your musing, "I'll run those searches and hit you back if I get anything."

"Thanks, PG. You're the best." Emily smiles, her face lighting up. The furrow in her brows no where to be seen. She's beautiful. You want to be the reason that smile appears on her face just once.

"Don't you forget it, princess." She remarks. "Garcia out!"

Emily chuckles wryly and re-pockets her phone, her gaze landing on you in the process.

"Uh— I should…" You signal to the door.

"How did you come up with this?" She asks.

"Oh." You frown, "Well, I was thinking about the first murder. And how weird it must be to see someone you're used to seeing in one context in another context. Kind of like when you're a kid and you see your teacher out and public for the first time and your faced with the notion that they're a 3D human. And then I wondered if maybe that was the point. If that was the reason our guy got all stangle-y."

A soft chuckle escapes her lips, her brow arching in surprise. You squish your lips together to stop the pleased smile from taking over your face.

Oh, you were so totally screwed.

"Speaking from experience?" She smirks.

You roll your eyes, grinning. "Oh come on, that's got to be universal."

She just shrugs, a non-answer, but her smile doesn't leave and neither does yours as you stare at each other. Enjoying the sparkle in her eye and the fact she looks relaxed and not weighed down with the pressure of the job.

This is nice. Why couldn't this be—

She clears her throat, her gaze dropping as she stands up and effectively destroying the moment. "Well, we should both get some sleep."

Your smile falters and you grab the case file, following her lead with a nod. "Yes, of course." You mumble.

You know once you're on the other side of the that door you'll convince yourself that you dreamed her smile. Too fleeting to ever really be directed at you. "Thank you for listening to my theories."

"You did some really good work." She assures. "You should be proud. This is going to help us find him. You're an essential member of our team, L/N."

You struggle to keep your composure. Tied between wanting to dance with joy and maybe throw yourself into her arms in thanks. Instead you blink, a shy smile lighting up your face. "Thank you."

Emily's brows draw together thoughtfully, but she doesn't clue you in on what she's thinking, instead signalling to the door. "Now, go and get some sleep."

"You got it, boss." You respond, shooting her a goodbye wave.

She smirks, responding in turn. Her brow arched in amusement.