#Spy Emily Prentiss | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

confused-pyramid · 1 year ago

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Tell Me Some Things Last | s3

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 23.1k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 3x01, 3x02, 3x03, 3x06, 3x08, 3x09, 3x14, 3x16, 3x17, 3x19, and 3x20

a/n: season 3! The slow burn continues:) This was really fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it! (and I promise the chapters won't keep getting longer, this one just got out of hand LMAO) Title is from Heal by Tom Odell

series masterlist

"Excuse me?"

Section Chief Strauss doesn't falter. "You can't expect me to believe you think Agent Hotchner has done an effective job leading this unit."

"You can't expect me to believe that you think I'd willing spy on my unit chief for you."

She sighs and you want to throttle her. "Agent L/N, I know you two share a history, but this is bigger than that. People have died on his watch."

You have been trying to remain neutral since you were called into her office, but every word that comes out of her mouth makes you see red. Yes, this past year has been tough, but none of it was in his control.

"I think you know my answer," you say coldly, straightening your back in her chair. "I have to go, we have a case in Arizona."

She holds your gaze for a second, before nodding and turning back to her computer. You stand up and leave her office without another word, hastening your pace to a light jog the moment you're out of her line of sight.

You want to talk to Hotch as soon as possible, but by the time you get back to the bullpen, the whole team and their go-bags are gone. Grabbing your own bag, you rush over to the airstrip where everyone is settled inside the jet.

He glances up with a thin smile when you take a seat across from him, and you return it, not wanting to raise his concern when everyone is around.

The Flagstaff police meet you at the airport when you land, and everyone jumps into the awaiting SUVs to get to the crime scene as soon as possible.

The victim is another brunette woman on the college campus, but luckily her body was found after curfew, so students aren't milling around.

You step closer to examine the woman's body as JJ glances down at her hand. "She had her Mace out, but she didn't use it?"

Morgan nods, looking around. "And it's well-lit. He's not afraid of being seen."

A bus stop sign catches your attention and you turn to Detective Griffith. "How often do the shuttles run?"

He answers immediately. "Every 10 minutes."

"Were all the other victims posed like this?" Reid asks, bending over to get a better look. "With their arms crossed."

Griffith frowns. "Yeah. Why?"

"It's a classic sign of remorse," Morgan responds, stepping in to take over the explanation. "The unsub kills the victim then immediately feels bad about it, so he poses them like this, so they'll rest in peace."

"You can tell that just by the arms?"

"It's why you called us here. To build a psychological profile of your killer."

After inspecting the crime scene, Gideon and Morgan leave to talk to the dean of the school, and JJ and Reid go to meet with the students living in the victim's dorm. Hotch is still back at the station, and you haven't gotten a chance to talk to him since meeting with Strauss, but you push it out of your mind as you accompany Emily to the coroner's office.

You're so lost in thought that the drive over is entirely silent, and it's not until you've parked that you realize she didn't say a word either.

When the coroner leads you to the victim's body, you notice how much clearer each of the markings and cuts are. Hotch doesn't assign you to speak with the coroners very often, usually sending Prentiss, because of her incredible attention to detail, but not that you're here, you appreciate the second chance to examine the victim.

"Did the other victims have this much overkill?" she asks, pulling out her camera as you flip open your notebook.

"Death was caused by a single, very forceful stab wound to the heart," the coroner confirms.

You lean in closer to see the insertion point and notice the lumpy discoloring on the victim's chest. "Yeah, it looks like he broke through the breastbone."

"And after that he just lashed out at random," he adds.

Emily hums in agreement before snapping a couple of photos. "Well, no defensive wounds. She didn't even hold her hands up to fight him off."

"The first two victims were the same."

A shudder runs through you as the two of you leave the cold room and emerge into the warm sunlight. "Why is it almost harder to look at the victims when they're cleaned up and no longer covered in blood?"

Emily considers your question for a moment. "Maybe it's because they look less human that way."

You remember Jeff's funeral, how lifeless he seemed in his casket, and how you could barely look at him during the proceedings. It was somehow worse than seeing him at the crime scene, blood everywhere. At least then, you could still see the warmth in his skin. Later, he just looked cold.

"I think you're right," you tell her just as her phone chirps with a call.

She stiffens imperceptibly when she sees the number, but you only notice because of how hyper-vigilant you have been about your own tells since speaking with Strauss. "I need to take this. Give me a second."

She walks away from you and answers the call, her tone hushed so that you can't hear her. You know it could easily just be a personal call about something private in her life, but there's something almost familiar about the look in her eyes when she saw the number.

"Everything okay?" you ask her when she returns, but she just sighs and starts walking to the SUV. "It's nothing."

You haven't known her for as long as the other members of the team, but it's not hard to tell that she's hiding something. She looks distracted as she avoids making eye contact, and when you remember how you did the same with Hotch on the plane, the pieces fall into place.

If Strauss gave her the same assignment she tried to give you, then you need to keep an eye on her. You don't believe that she would sell out the team, but you also know how terrifying you thought Strauss was when you first joined the bureau.

***

The profile leads you to take Nathan Tubbs, one of the campus security guards, into custody, and while Gideon interrogates him, you walk with Reid, JJ, and Emily through the quad to get back to the station.

"Everyone is so much younger than I remember being," JJ says, as you all pass through a crowded part of campus. Word must have spread that the team arrested someone, because you can't imagine why else there would be so many students hanging outside after dark.

"Yeah, it's a weird age," Emily chuckles. "You want to be treated like an adult, but you're still used to someone else solving your problems for you."

"All I remember is trying to figure out who I was."

That makes you laugh. "I had no idea what I wanted to do when I was in college."

"Didn't you go to college with Hotch?" JJ asks, her eyes twinkling. You expect she's hoping for an embarrassing, or at least interesting, story from those years, but your past with him feels almost like sacred territory: something you can't breach when he's not around.

"Not college," you correct, "just everything else before and after."

"What was he like then?" Emily asks, genuine curiosity in her tone. You still can't believe that she would spy for Strauss, but you also can't help your suspicions.

"He was completely different, but also the same." You smile as you think back to the early years of your friendship. "He was kind of a cool kid in high school, but he was just as focused and determined as he is now."

"Hotch was popular?" Reid asks in disbelief.

JJ snorts. "Why can't I imagine that at all."

"He was trustworthy," you shrug, "and kind. Even when people weren't kind to him."

The three of them go silent, and you suddenly feel extremely self-conscious, but you're saved when your phone rings with a call from Derek. "Hey."

"There's been another murder."

***

The case ends in a murder-suicide that a part of you believes Gideon should've seen coming. JJ calls the jet to take off at first light, and everyone looks exhausted when you arrive at the airport. You sleep most of the flight back, but when you step into the field office again, you know you can't ignore the talk you've been avoiding all day.

You go to his office in the hopes of having this conversation privately, but he isn't inside when you look through the open door. You turn back with a frown and are about to head down the stairs again when you see him leaving Strauss's office across the hall.

He spots you immediately, and before you can say anything, he says, "I just got suspended."

Your mouth falls open. "What?"

"Two weeks."

You blanche as you follow him into his office, where he immediately starts packing up his essentials into his briefcase. "Hotch...I have to tell you something. Something I should have mentioned yesterday."

"What is it?" he asks, his voice slightly distracted.

"StraussaskedmetospyonyouandIthinkshealsoaskedEmily!"

He blinks. "Can you say that again?"

You press your lips together, before trying again, slower this time. "Strauss asked me to spy on you, and I think she also asked Emily."

He closes his eyes for a beat, but it feels like years. You can feel the disappointment wafting off of him, but he doesn't say anything, giving you the time to explain in more detail.

"She asked me right before we flew to Arizona," you tell him, your chest aching at the defeated look on his face. "I told her I wouldn't do it, of course, and that you are the perfect leader for this team. But I was watching Emily the whole time we were there, and I think Strauss might have threatened her or made her some kind of offer."

His hands pause their packing and for a moment, you're worried that he's going to be angry you didn't come to him sooner, but then he just sighs, a deeply dejected sound. "I figured she would. It's basically in the FBI playbook."

"You knew?" you say, your voice almost like a gasp.

"I didn't know for sure," he amends, "but I believed so. And I'm usually right about these kinds of things. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. You guys will be fine without me."

You want to shake him; to reach forward and rattle his shoulders until he realizes that this is it. This is exactly why he makes such a great unit chief.

He doesn't get angry, even when he may have cause to be. He trusts his team so wholeheartedly that even under the suspicion of spying to the higher-ups, he still treats everyone the same. He puts the team above himself in almost every aspect, and the intermittent calls you get from Haley when you're in the middle of a long case prove that it may be to his own detriment, but he still does it. Because he cares so deeply, about each of you, and about each victim, and about catching each killer.

"We need you," you say, emphasizing your words as though that will make him understand you better.

"Morgan and Prentiss will be fine," he says pointedly, as though trying to prove a point. "I'm sure they'll even be better off. And Reid and JJ can look to you for guidance. It's practically what they do already."

"Fine," you sigh, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "They'll be okay. But what if I need you?"

He looks at you then, and there's a sadness behind the stern set of his eyes. "You'll be okay."

***

You have to drag yourself out of the house the next morning. The knowledge that Hotch (and most likely Gideon) won't be at the office sucks the motivation out of you, especially because you have no idea what will happen once the team is given another case. Will they assign you a new unit chief? Will they temporarily promote someone on the team?

You push your questions out of your mind as you mindlessly get through security and flop down at your desk. There's a palpable difference with half the team gone, especially since Emily doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight either, and the emptiness of the office somehow feels more claustrophobic.

You finished all of your paperwork the night before, because you couldn't sleep after hearing of Hotch's suspension, so sitting at your desk now, you have nothing to do until a new case arrives.

Reid and Morgan dive into their own paperwork the minute they sit down, and they don't look up except to grab a new pen or refill their mugs.

You can see the tension lining everyone's shoulders, the stress about the future of this team, with its two senior-most members gone.

When you can't take the lack of work anymore, you head over to JJ's office, where she is poring over a stack of case files so tall that you can't see her face until you step in front of her desk. "Hey, JJ."

"Oh, hey," she says, looking up at you. "It's been really quiet out there."

You nod, dropping onto the sofa across from her. "Half the team's gone. It doesn't feel the same."

"I wish I could come out there and sit with you guys, but I have so many new case files to look over."

"Need any help?"

She looks up in surprise. "Actually, that would be great. Can I leave you with a few of them? There's a checklist for what I need you to note down at the top of that stack."

"Of course," you say before she hands you a thick stack of files. "I'll get them back to you soon."

"Take your time," she says, waving you away. "I have like a billion more to go through anyway."

When you're back at your desk, you set down the stack with a small thud and open the first file. You're bombarded with gory images of men who have been brutally stabbed to death, and you read over the case history quickly before opening the next one. This time, the images are of live women, all of whom share a skin tone and hair color, and have been kidnapped in the last week.

You slam the file shut and close your eyes in an effort to keep your head from spinning. You don't understand how anyone could classify these cases. How they could decide that one of these unsubs is worse than another. But there aren't enough teams like yours to cover every case that comes through the door, so someone has to.

You glance up at Hotch's office again, a force of habit, and the darkness in his doorway reminds you of the emptiness in the office. It's the same with Gideon's office, and Emily's desk.

You miss them all.

***

The first week of Hotch's suspension is hell. Gideon still hasn't turned up, and you can see his absence clawing at Spencer, who hasn't gone more than an hour without glancing at his office since he left. Derek doesn't admit it, but you can tell he misses Hotch's leadership over the team.

Strauss has come by periodically to "check in" on your team's work, but with the other units available to take on any new cases, she hasn't assigned you anything. You know she doesn't trust your team, but you're surprised that even with Hotch gone, she's still treating all of you like extensions of him. Not that she's wrong about that.

Without getting called in, you stay at home for the first few days, and even get some use out of your Peloton for once. You've been missing him all week, but it's not until the following Monday that you decide to actually do something about it.

Grabbing the files JJ gave you to look over, you stuff them in your bag and drive up to his house. Both cars are in the driveway when you arrive, and you belatedly realize that you should have called first.

You knock on the door hesitantly, and are surprised to see Jack in Haley's arms when she opens the door. She looks excited to see you, but you still feel bad about just showing up. "I'm sorry, I should have called."

"Not at all," she says, opening the door wider for you to enter. "You know I love seeing you."

"Y/N's here," Haley announces as she leads you into the kitchen and sets Jack back into his high chair. She shoots you a pointed look. "And she's not here to talk about work."

"Of course not," you say with a laugh. "I just wanted to see how the suspension was going. The team really misses you."

He acknowledges you with a small nod, and you take a seat opposite him at the table, where he is feeding Jack his cereal.

"I miss everyone, too," he says, "but it's also been nice to have some extra time at home."

"This suspension has been a blessing in disguise," Haley jumps in, ruffling Jack's hair. You don't miss the way Hotch's jaw twitches.

You aren't sure what to say to that, but Haley just pulls Jack out of his chair and turns to the doorway. "I'm gonna put him down for his nap. It was nice seeing you, Y/N."

"You too, Hales," you say earnestly, before smiling at Jack. "Bye, buddy."

When she's out of the room, you shoot Hotch a look that makes him lean back with a frown. "What?"

"You miss work, don't you."

He huffs, and you take that as an admission. "I've loved being home," he says, his words slightly more emphasized than necessary.

You can hear the candor in his voice. You don't doubt that he loves spending time with his family, you just also know the pull of the job. The fulfillment of saving people from unimaginable horrors, and the desolate ache that comes when you know you aren't doing everything you can.

"You can feel both things," you whisper as he exasperatedly runs his hand through his hair. He got a haircut.

The thought pops into your head against your will, and you glance up at his hair as you realize this is the shortest it's been in a long time. It suits him, but it also emphasizes the hard furrow of his brow.

"Haley doesn't understand that," he says simply, no ill intention in his tone, "but I can't expect her to. I barely understand it, and it's what I'm feeling."

To the outside listener, his words could be construed as complaints, but there's nothing but deep empathy in his voice. He loves her so much, and even though they're having differences about his work life, she loves him too.

You spend the next half hour talking him through each of the cases that JJ left you with, and when Haley returns to the kitchen after putting Jack down for his nap, you pull out a chair for her and tuck the files away.

"We need to have you over for dinner sometime soon," she says as soon as she takes a seat. "I can't believe we haven't done it yet." She looks to Hotch with an earnest sigh. "I guess Jack has been kind of a handful, but I can't believe this is your first time coming to the house since he was born."

"It's been too long," he agrees, draping an arm over the back of her chair. The sight of their casual intimacy is a reminder of what you once had, but the usual mistiness doesn't come when you think about Jeff. Your chest just fills with a liquid-y warmth that feels like melted chocolate and syrup.

"Likewise," you smile, patting Haley's hand. "I don't know if I can handle another night out, even with the mid-evening interruption."

She laughs heartily, and you see Hotch's lips curve up involuntarily. "I think I'm partied out for the year."

His arm slips down to rest against her waist, but she doesn't lean into him like she usually does. You avert your eyes, glancing up at their kitchen wall clock and faking a gasp. "I've taken up too much of your family time. I should go."

"It's okay," Hotch assuages at the same time that Haley says, "I'll walk you out."

They share a small glance, and you suddenly feel intrusive in their home. "I'll see you in a week."

He nods and you follow Haley to the door, where she gives you a quick squeeze and another promise to have you over for dinner soon. The sun starts to set as you drive home, and before you can second guess yourself, you're turning into a local farmer's market that is about to shut down for the night.

You rush through the stalls and stop in front of the flower shop, where you buy a dozen pink carnations. The vendor ties the bouquet with a silky ribbon and you hold the flowers close to your heart as you walk back to your car and start driving.

This time, you're more aware of the direction you're headed. You don't stop your car until you're in the parking lot and you don't stop moving until you're past the front gates and up the grassy hill where Jeff's headstone sits stoically under the waning sunlight.

You take a deep breath as you sink down to your knees, blissfully unaware of the grass stains coloring your slacks. You set the flowers down in front of his headstone, which you haven't seen in months.

Jeff Adler

Beloved Son, Husband, Brother

Until we meet again

The carnations look bright against the gray stone, and you arrange them neatly so that they don't get blown away.

He loved flowers. He knew they were impermanent and likely a waste of money, but he still loved all of the different emotions they symbolized, and how beautiful they could be for as long as they lasted.

He brought you a bouquet of heliotrope almost every week after you got married, and when you asked him what it meant, he insisted that it was something you had to find out in your own time. That time came a quick Google search later, and when the words 'eternal love' flashed on your screen, you knew you had picked the right man.

You brush your finger against the petals of the pink carnations you brought, remembering the rest of what the search yielded. Angelica for inspiration, calla lily for beauty, and pink carnation for gratitude.

You're so grateful you met him. So grateful he loved you as much as you loved him.

"I love you," you whisper, suddenly needing to say the words out loud. There's no one around, and the sun has set far enough that there's barely enough light to see, but your words feel strong as they come out of your mouth. "Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for giving me 10 beautiful years."

You wipe away the tear that falls from the corner of your eye. "Goodbye."

***

He takes his time as he walks through the halls of the Virginia field office on Monday morning. He hasn't been inside in two weeks, and after he and Haley agreed that he should request a transfer, he likely won't be back again for a very long time.

When he walks past the glass doors of the bullpen, he spots you at your desk, pointing out something to Morgan in a case file. He hastens his pace so you don't see him. He still doesn't know how to tell you that he isn't coming back.

"Good morning, ma'am," he says when Strauss beckons him into her office.

"I was hoping you'd do the right thing," she says, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Have you given any thought to what department you'll request?"

He shakes his head. "I was under the impression that if I left the BAU, I'd have my choice of posts."

"Well, I'll consider it after I fully complete my investigation."

She pauses before looking at him again. "You were a prosecutor. What about heading up a white-collar crime task force? That'll get you home at night at a reasonable hour."

That sounds like exactly what Haley wants for them. They spent hours over the last week discussing what the best path forward would be post-suspension, and after countless late-night arguments, they finally agreed on a transfer. It would be best for the team, and best for his family. So why does he feel so guilty?

"Sorry to interrupt."

Prentiss barges into the office, as though she had an appointment. She glances over at him, and he can't read her expression. "Sir, I've decided to resign from the FBI, effective immediately."

"I don't understand," he frowns, taking in her rigid posture. He remembers your suspicions, as well as his own, but this can't be where it ends.

"I'm taking the foreign service exam. With my connections, I'd stand a good chance of landing in the State Department."

"Prentiss," he urges, trying to convey his understanding in his tone. "I think that's a mistake."

She shakes her head with a sigh. "Well, don't try to talk me out of it. Garcia saw my name on the list, and she already tried."

That makes him pause. "If she can't talk someone out of doing something, no one can."

"Sorry for the interruption, but, sir, it's good to see you back." She turns her gaze to Strauss, even as she continues speaking to him. "The team needs you."

She stalks out of the room after a quick "Ma'am", leaving him alone with Strauss, who looks like she's up to her last nerve. "I'll be overseeing this next case until I can assign your replacement."

"You don't have any field experience, do you?" He doesn't mean for the words to come out so critically, but his emotions are a jumbled mess that he can't decipher well enough to fix his mood right now.

"My job is to protect the Bureau. If I have to hold the team's hand for one case, so be it."

Hold the team's hand. He can't imagine that Strauss will be of much help in the field, but he keeps his mouth shut. He's been around enough authority figures to know when to keep his criticisms to himself.

"Ma'am," he says gently, hoping he can turn his thoughts into useful advice. "In order to function effectively, this team needs stability."

She clasps her hands together on her desk, and he knows it's done. There's nothing he can do to fix this for the team, at least not on this case. "The BAU has some very talented people, and they're Bureau assets, and I believe it's time that they were out from underneath the leadership of you and Jason Gideon."

***

Hotch was supposed to come back today. It's not until you're on the plane that Derek informs the team that he's requesting a transfer.

"What?" you burst out, unable to keep your composure even with Strauss seated a few rows behind you.

"He didn't tell you?"

You shake your head with a forlorn frown, and Derek jumps back in quickly to remediate the situation. "I only found out because I ran into him on the way to the jet. He didn't seem like he was in the mood for talking."

But he tells you everything. At least you thought he did.

"It's okay," you say, forcing your face into a neutral expression. "This isn't about me. I just can't believe he's leaving."

"Yeah," JJ grimaces, "and I can't believe we're stuck with her now. You know, from this angle, she looks almost human."

You all glance behind you, but thankfully, her face is still buried in the case file.

"Emily didn't come in today, either," you point out, turning to the empty seat next to you. "We're down two agents, and Gideon's MIA."

Reid blinks, and you curse yourself for being so cavalier. You know how hard Gideon's absence has been on him.

He recovers quickly and leans in to the center console with a raised eyebrow. "Has Strauss ever even been out of the-"

A chorus of shushes come from Derek and JJ and he shuts up as Strauss walks down the aisle and sits across from you all. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe it's protocol to brief everyone before we arrive at the crime scene?"

JJ turns red and she nods hastily, opening her file. "Yes, ma'am."

Strauss has only been here for ten minutes and you already want to strangle her. JJ explains the case details succinctly, and when the plane lands, you all head over to the crime scene to find Detective Wolynski, who called your team in when the murders got out of hand.

Within minutes of meeting them, Strauss manages to ruin your relationship with the local police by questioning their decision to wait so long to call in the BAU. JJ immediately takes matters into her own hands as she explains that we have to work with them if we want to be included in the investigation at all, but she doesn't seem to care.

You get a call from Penelope as you're heading back to the SUVs, and you step aside to get out of Strauss's earshot. "What's up, Pen?"

"I tried everything I could," she wails. You can hear the distinct clicking of her keyboard in the background. "I tried to convince him to stay, but he's so stubborn."

You sigh, glancing over at the scene, where Strauss looks positively nauseous. You can empathize with her emotions, because you know how hard it was for you to see your first crime scene in person, but this just further proves how unfit she is to understand what being on this team really means. "If he made up his mind, there's gonna be no changing it, unless he changes it himself."

She huffs, before audibly perking up. "I gave him the Milwaukee case file before he went home, and I also, uh, saw that his transfer hasn't passed through the system yet."

You're almost certain she had something to do with that, but your mind immediately starts going through the possibilities of what this could mean. If his transfer isn't in the system, then that means he technically still works on this team...which means him not being here is in dereliction of duty. If there's anything that can convince Hotch to show up, it's duty.

"You've been more help than you know," you tell her, before hanging up and hopping into the SUV.

***

When he arrived at his house with the case file Garcia gave him, he immediately stuffed it in his bag and tossed it onto the floor. He definitely didn't think about reading it the entire time he was changing out of his suit, and making a quick lunch for Haley and himself. When she went upstairs to put Jack down for his nap, he couldn't help himself any longer.

Reaching into his bag, he pulls out the file and flips it open slowly, being careful to angle the gruesome photos away from the stairs in case Haley came down without him noticing. Women taken in the afternoons and killed. Bodies dumped in the morning. Hearts cut out of their chests. The words pop out at him as he skims the page, and he's so engrossed in the material that he doesn't hear her until she's standing over him. "I thought this was over."

"It is," he sighs, closing the file. "I'm just curious." He doesn't know when he started lying to his wife, but he doesn't like it. The bitter taste of it in his mouth.

He can see her gearing up for a fight when their home phone rings. He picks it up and clicks the button to answer, but even after saying 'hello' a couple of times, no one responds. For a split second, his mind flashes back a year to the Fisher King and the secret message left on his home phone, but he pushes the thought away.

He clicks the phone off, looking up at Haley again, but then a shrill ringing sound starts again, this time from her purse across the living room.

An unfamiliar queasiness fills his stomach, and he maintains eye contact with her as her eyes flicker back and forth a couple of times. He promised himself he would never profile his family, but the analyses come before he can shut off that part of his brain. Shifting eyes. Rigid posture. All indications of lying and shame.

"What did the Section Chief say?" she asks, her hands going to her hips. Stance of power to overcompensate for-

He shakes the line of thinking from his head. "She suggested that I transfer to a white-collar-crime task force."

"Would you have to travel?"

"No, I'd have a nine-to-five life."

She nods, and he can see the finality in her stance. "Then, it's a no-brainer."

***

You haven't been able to focus as well as you'd like to with the knowledge that Hotch isn't coming back hanging over your head. When you get a spare moment at the station, you step out of the conference room where all of the evidence has been scattered around and press the first number on your speed dial.

"Hello?" It's Haley.

You stumble over your words as you say 'hello' back. You weren't expecting it to be her who answered. She clearly wasn't expecting you either, because she sighs dramatically when she hears your voice and you hear a quiet "It's Y/N" before the phone is handed over.

You can understand where she's coming from. When Jeff was about to start his undercover assignment, you were so angry at him for choosing to be away from you for so long. But then rationality won over, and you remembered why he was doing it...for the same reason you are.

"Hey."

He sounds guilty. You can imagine.

"Hey," you say simply, waiting for him to fill in the gaps. He owes you at least that much.

"I'm sorry," he says after a long pause, "but you knew this was coming. You know Haley hates what this job turns me into, and you know sometimes I hate it too."

That wasn't really the explanation you were expecting. Not willing to let him off the hook, you turn your face away from the conference room windows to hide your expression and lower your voice. "You should have told me, and you know it. That's why you're hiding behind this false justification...but I guess you know that too."

There's a small rustling sound over the receiver and you can imagine him running his hands through his newly cropped hair. "This doesn't change the fact that I'm leaving."

Sometimes you forget that he was once a young boy with an alarmingly developed moral compass that didn't always point in your direction. It's times like this that remind you.

"Fine." You feel like an irritable teenager again, but you can't contain yourself around him. Even when you want to hide a part of yourself, you can't.

"How's the case going?" he asks finally. His voice has gotten softer and you know he feels bad about how this call has been going, but with neither of you willing to concede, you decide to ignore it for now.

"Well, Strauss just offended the lead detective 45 seconds into her first crime scene."

He chuckles softly. "I'm not surprised."

"This isn't about to get any better, is it?" you ask, huffing out a forlorn sigh.

"I doubt it," he agrees. "I'll keep looking at the file from my end. Any idea how he's getting control of these women? Is he blitzing them or coercing them?"

"So far, we're coming up blank," you admit, glancing back at Morgan and Reid, who appear to be in a productive debate.

"All right. Keep me posted."

***

Another victim turns up and you're not any closer to figuring out who the unsub is. Derek steps away from the group a few minutes after you and you see him pacing the halls of the precinct, his phone pressed to his ear.

A break in the case comes when Garcia identifies school records of children who exhibit signs of perfectionism and co-dependence, leading you to a profile for the unsub. You're all listening to Garcia as she reads off the records when the door opens, with two figures standing in the entrance.

"Look who's here," Morgan grins, shaking Hotch's hand. Emily looks sheepish as she glances over at Strauss, who is downright fuming.

"How fast can you get us up to speed?" Hotch asks without another greeting.

Morgan scoffs. "How fast can you sit down?"

Strauss opens her mouth to say something, but Hotch beats her to it as he takes a seat next to you. You ignore the gesture. "We're only here to help."

She sighs. "We'll deal with this later."

With two more members back on the team, at least for the time being, the SUVs are split more evenly, and you join Emily, JJ, and Strauss in the first one as you head to the crime scene. Strauss is the first one to walk up to the scene, but the moment she sees the mangled body, she breaks down, her face contorting into a sob that she tries and fails to hold in.

You make a move to go and help her, but you're surprised when Hotch is the first to step in. "If you need a second, take a second. This is what it is. Just don't let the public see you break down."

He's so kind to her, even though she's the reason for all of his professional stress. You suppose she's not the only reason, but that isn't something you get to have an opinion on.

The devolution of the dump sites leads to an update of the profile, which gets you an address for a young boy who left school early with the nurse on duty. It doesn't take long to get to the house, and Derek and JJ coordinate some of the local police and SWAT as you strap on your kevlar vests.

After an initial argument about the probable cause of entering a house you don't know is dangerous, Emily pipes up with an idea. "Let me go in alone."

"Wait..." you start but she steamrolls over you, clearly needing to compensate for not being here before. "The boy's in the family room. He's looking for female authority figures. If he lets me in, I can signal as soon as I see anything that gives us cause."

"Technically, you're not even in the FBI," Reid points out.

She nods. "All the better."

Strauss steps in with a frown, to no one's surprise. "She's interfering with a federal investigation."

"Well, if I'm no longer in the FBI, then you have no authority over me." Emily shrugs and turns to Hotch for the approval she actually wants. "I'm just a civilian knocking on a little boy's door."

He nods and she pulls her hair back into a ponytail. Derek hands her his gun, and you suddenly remember that Hotch doesn't have his gun either. Reaching into your other side holster, you pull out your second firearm and hand it to him without a word. He doesn't lift his hand at first, but then he nods at you and takes the gun, his eyes filled with an earnest gratitude, and you know you've forgiven him.

Once she goes inside, you all wait in silence for the signal to breach the home. It takes almost too long, but eventually your earpieces fill with a loud beeping, and Derek yells "Go!"

You find her in a back room, where she's on the floor, her forehead bleeding from a thick gash. You enter just in time to see Hotch leap forward and take Emily's weapon from the little boy, before lifting him up and carrying him out of the house.

"I can't officially approve of how that transpired," Strauss says when you all come outside. You sit next to Emily and squeeze her hand as the paramedics patch up her forehead.

Hotch shakes his head, clearly done with the bureau politics. "The arrest was clean. It would be a mistake to break up this team."

She looks at him pointedly. "None of you will ever move up the chain of command, you know that."

"Why would I ever want to leave the BAU?"

You almost believe him. It's not that you don't think he wants to stay. You know he does. You just also know how much his family means to him, and how thin Haley's patience has worn.

Morgan asks if he means it, and he gives a vague answer that you expect, before turning to look at you.

"Here." He reaches into his waistband and pulls out your gun. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

His hand brushes yours when you take it back, and the warmth of his skin makes you shiver against the slight breeze. "You're welcome."

***

When he gets home, the lights are off.

"Haley?" he calls out into the empty silence. He tries to convince himself that he didn't see this coming, but after her last words to him before he left, it's a futile exercise.

"Make sure to give your son a kiss before you leave."

He left, even when she begged him not to. Now his wife has left, and she took their son with her, and once again, he is utterly alone.

***

Gideon's resignation comes through and you find yourself missing him more than you thought you would. If Hotch is the backbone of the team, he was the stoic foundation. He formed the roots of the BAU as a unit altogether, and you owe your life's work to his intelligence and foresight. But more than that, you can't help but remember the fact that out of all the members on the team, Gideon knew Jeff the best.

He attended countless lectures about past unsubs that Gideon put on at the academy, because he believed understanding why people do things was just as important as knowing how or what they were doing. He even went to Gideon's home for the occasional dinner, and he brought you along once after you got married.

You're not sure what the team will look like without his guiding hand, but you don't have to wait long to find out when JJ calls you with the notice that you're going to Portland.

Spencer is reading a piece of paper over and over again when you get to the office, and when you peek over his shoulder, you see the familiar scrawl of Gideon's handwriting.

Taking a deep breath, you reach forward to put your hand on his shoulder for a moment of comfort, but think better of it and pull back at the last second. Derek sees your indecision and cocks his head towards him.

You walk over to his desk and perch on its edge with a sigh. "I can't believe he would leave just like that."

"I can," Morgan shrugs, his eyes hard with contempt. When you shoot him a look, he softens. "I just mean that he's been showing signs of withdrawal for a while now. It still sucks for the kid, though."

You both look up at Reid across the aisle, where he is still scanning the letter. "At least he got a letter." You try to bring humor into your tone, but it doesn't work.

"It's not about us," Derek says gently, in a show of empathy for the older agent that is unfamiliar coming from him. "He did what he had to do to keep himself sane. We just have to let him."

You nod, just as JJ emerges from the hallway with Hotch on her heels. "We're starting the briefing."

***

"You must be the BAU."

A handsome man with a thick East Coast accent comes forward to introduce himself when you all enter the Portland field office. "Special Agent Bill Calvert."

"Hi, Jennifer Jareau," JJ smiles, extending her hand. "This is SSA Aaron Hotchner. This is Dr. Reid and Agents Morgan, Prentiss and L/N."

He smiles at each of you but his eyes linger on yours for a moment before he takes JJ's hand. "I appreciate your help on this case."

"You're from Boston?" you ask, trying to place his accent after having heard nothing like it since you landed.

"The accent's kind of hard to miss in Oregon, right?" he grins, before reaching his hand out to you. "Agent L/N, was it?"

You shake his hand, shooting him a thin smile. You can already see Emily and JJ's smirks behind your back.

"We'd like to take a look around Jenny Wittman's apartment," Hotch steps in, moving forward to stand beside you.

Calvert nods. "I'd take you myself, but I'm waiting to meet her family, so I'll have another agent drive you."

"Thank you." Hotch rushes off with Reid and Morgan, and you stay back with JJ and Prentiss to work the victimology.

"Can we set up in here?" you ask Calvert as you start moving the boxes of case files and evidence onto the conference room table.

"Of course," he says, before leaving the three of you alone.

The first ten minutes of looking through the evidence is silent, and for a second, you nearly let yourself believe the other women won't bring up the elephant in the room, but then JJ lets out an involuntary giggle and they pounce.

"He's definitely into you," she says, making no effort to hide her gaze as she unabashedly stares at Calvert through the window. You want to retort immediately, but after seeing her check her phone about a dozen more times a day than she usually does, you suspect she may actually know what she's talking about when it comes to love these days.

Emily nods, biting her lip. "He couldn't stop looking at you."

"You're profilers," you argue, tossing the file in your hand onto the table. "You notice all kinds of insignificant stuff."

"So are you," JJ points out. "What do you think, then?"

They have you boxed in, and you can't think of any answer that would sufficiently appease them so you just groan.

"She's into it, too," JJ grins at Emily, who replies with, "I can't believe Y/N's gonna date someone from Portland."

Without thinking, you huff. "He's from Boston." All three pairs of eyes widen as you realize your slip in not denying her statement.

Emily laughs. "Ohh, it's so happening!"

***

When the men return from Jenny Wittman's apartment, Hotch instructs JJ to televise a statement warning possible future victims who fit the unsub's victimology. When Emily and Derek later find an ad hung up in a local laundromat that suggests he's been killing for longer than you'd previously thought, you decide to head back to the trail where the first bodies were found.

When you arrive on the scene, a dozen new bodies have been found further down the trail and near the water.

"How did we miss this before?" you think out loud, not realizing that Calvert has come up behind you.

"The trail's 40 miles long."

You jump when you hear his voice, and he apologizes after a small chuckle. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Special Agent Calvert," you say, your voice slightly airy as you catch your breath. "No need to apologize."

"Okay," he smiles, turning to stand in front of you, "and you can call me Bill."

He's a good looking man, and you don't dislike the feeling of someone showing interest in you, especially as clearly intelligent and qualified as him.

"Sure," you say, returning the smile. "I'm Y/N, btw."

"That's a pretty name," he says, his eyes glinting with mischievousness, before he turns back to the scene before you. "They dug up eight new graves before you got here."

You frown. "So the unsub didn't stick to the pattern."

"Guy had a busy year."

You nod, pondering what this change in M.O. could mean, when Bill interrupts your thoughts. "I'm interested to hear more about how this profiling thing goes."

You give him a quizzical smile, and his lips quirk up. "I took a class in criminal psychology in college, but I don't remember enough to be useful in this area."

"We observe human behavior," you explain, ignoring the subtle smirk Emily is flashing you from behind his back. "Profiling is about making connections and predicting future actions based on history, victimology, and behavior."

He takes a moment to digest your words before huffing out a laugh. "Sounds to me like we called in the right team."

When another agent comes by to ask him about the crime scene procedure, you take your leave and walk up the hill of mulch by the open graves. You are nearly to the SUV when you spot Morgan beelining towards you.

"Not you too," you sigh, rolling your eyes dramatically as you stalk away from him.

He catches up to you easily and throws an arm over your shoulders with a grin. "I'm not gonna give you the giggly girl talk that JJ and Prentiss clearly have covered. I just wanted to say one thing."

You look at him expectantly and he brings you both to a stop by the cars. "You're a catch, L/N." You start to roll your eyes again, but he shakes his head. "You are, so if you want to have a little no-strings-fun, then I'll have your back through and through."

You have no idea what no-strings-fun would look like, but you glance back at Bill, who is speaking animatedly with another agent about the change in digging patterns of the graves.

"I don't know what I want," you admit as Derek drops his arm and turns to face you.

"That's okay," he says, before the corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk. "But figuring that out can be just as much fun too."

***

He would be lying if he said he hasn't noticed you talking to the Special Agent on the case. Calvert, he remembers as he thinks back to the capture and subsequent suicide of the unsub from the roof of his old therapist office.

They were able to find the final victim before she died, so even with the unsub's death, the case feels like a victory, and the whole team looks light on the way back to the jet.

He has been trying to keep himself light too, but every time he gets a moment to himself, his mind reverts back to the silent darkness of his home after he returned from the last case. The reminder that he hasn't seen Haley or Jack in days.

When he reaches the tarmac, he spots you talking to Calvert again, but the conversation looks different than before. The special agent looks nervous, and he tries to gauge whether you seem comfortable, before realizing how relaxed you look.

When he gets closer, he catches the end of a question that likely started with "Can I have your number?" You smile at the man, and he turns away, trying not to eavesdrop.

He can't tell what he wants you to say. He knows it's been enough time since Jeff's death that real dating isn't out of the question, but he can't reconcile the protective instinct flickering in his gut.

Regardless of the distance he tried putting between you and himself, your voice carries over the tarmac, and he hears you say, "I'm sorry." before the rest of the sentence gets jumbled in the breeze. Something that feels alarmingly like relief settles in his chest and he frowns at the foreign feeling of it coursing through his veins.

He boards the plane and purposefully chooses a seat with an empty spot next to it, knowing you'll choose to sit beside him after he practically ignored you all day. He really wasn't trying to shut you out, he just doesn't know how to broach the topic of separation with anyone, let alone someone who had as stable a marriage as you did.

When you board the jet and take your seat next to him, he glances over at you sheepishly and murmurs, "I overheard the end."

He's surprised when you laugh lightly. "It's okay. Everyone was going to find out soon enough, especially with how excited Prentiss and JJ were about it."

He nods, glad that you aren't angry about his invasion of your privacy. Then, before he can stop himself, he looks at you and asks, "You didn't want to see him again?"

"I don't think I'm looking to just date for dating's sake anymore," you explain, your eyes flitting around the cabin at the sleeping forms of the rest of the team. "I had a true love...I don't want to settle down again for anything less."

He understands that completely, but he can tell there's something else bothering you, and not just because of the rhythmic bouncing of your knee that you don't seemed to have noticed. "What else?"

You shrug, not meeting his eye. "I used to have my usual excuse, but I can't really say it's too soon anymore, can I?"

He frowns as he notices the visible strain on you that this burden has caused. "You get to decide that for yourself."

"I know," you sigh, rubbing your eye with a loose fist. "I just worry sometimes that I use Jeff as an excuse to keep myself closed off." Your knee stills, and Hotch scoots closer, even with the armrest in the way.

"You don't seem closed off to me."

Your eyes crinkle with laughter. "I'm not sure if that means much coming from you. You're not exactly the picture of openness, Hotch."

He knows you're mostly joking, but your read punches him in the gut in a way he doesn't expect. You must see the shock on his face, because you immediately lean in closer. "What is it?"

He shakes his head, trying to delay for as long as he can. If he doesn't say it out loud, maybe he can pretend that he's still a happily married man. That he didn't fail his wife and son by being as absent as he had wished his father had been, early in his life.

"It's not about Gideon leaving, is it?" You scrutinize him for a moment before shaking your head. "No. Hotch, what's the matter?"

"We agreed not to profile each other," he sighs, gritting his teeth against the pain of having to vocalize one of the lowest moments in his life.

"Aaron," you whisper. Your voice is soft and gentle, and he breaks.

"Haley left."

Your mouth parts in surprise, and he looks down at his lap, taking a deep breath. "And I don't know if she's coming back."

***

You've been waiting in the arrivals lot of the airport for almost an hour. You're assuming his flight got delayed, and you're grateful for the time to get yourself ready to see him, but the wait hasn't made your jitters any better.

You haven't seen Hotch since you left for college last year, and with his pre-law internship that he somehow snagged as a first year, it was a lonely summer.

When he called you last week with profuse apologies for not staying more in touch and a somber tone that had to be about more than his regrettable phone habits, you had told him that you would love to see him, but your winter break doesn't start for another month. After a few hushed breaths and a second of thinking, he told you that he had bought a plane ticket out to California for the following weekend.

That's why it's Friday afternoon, and you're still waiting for his familiar mop of dark hair to appear through the exit doors. A boy walks out right then, with the same raven hair and fit stature, and your heart rate hastens for a split second, before you realize it's not him.

You look down at your car's radio and twist the dial to change the station. It's been playing the same Madonna song nonstop, and you shut off the volume when the other stations are no different. Your shift in focus takes your attention away from the airport exit, so you jump in your seat when a quiet knock sounds at your passenger side window.

He's here. Your lips curve up into a bright smile and you unlock the door, letting him get in.

"Hi," you say, your voice weaker than you'd like.

"Hey, Y//N," he replies, pushing his long hair back from his face. The simple motion sets off butterflies in your stomach and you turn back to your steering wheel to keep your emotions off your face. He could always read you so easily. "It's good to see you."

He grins at you and leans forward to give you a quick, awkward hug over the center console. You involuntarily inhale as he pulls back, and the scent of his natural musk mixed with whatever new cologne he's been wearing smells dreamy on him.

You said you were over it, you tell yourself in your head. He has a girlfriend who he's going to marry, and you are his best friend. At least you were.

You don't really know where things stand between you two now. A year is a long time to go without seeing someone, and you're sure college has changed him in similar ways that it has changed you.

"I have one more class today," you say quickly as you pull your car out of the lot. "It's criminal psychology, so I figured you wouldn't mind coming to the lecture with me."

"Sounds fun," he says, before leaning his cheek against the window to watch the scenery that zips by. "God, the weather here is crazy."

"It's definitely warmer than I'm used to," you agree, struggling not to glance over at him. "We never had 70 degree winters growing up."

"Which do you prefer?"

You grin. "Home, of course."

"Of course."

You look at him then, and his expression is one you don't understand. It's the same look he gets when he's in the library and he finds a book he's been looking for.

The drive doesn't take long, and you bring him to your lecture, where he proceeds to pay more attention to the information being presented than you do. The class usually feels too short for you, but today, the time ticks by, because you can't focus.

It's been so long since you've sat next to him in a class, and the sight of him jotting down notes on a scrap piece of paper takes you back to high school, when he was still the more attentive one.

After the lecture, you both grab a quick dinner in the dining hall and settle back into your double dorm room, which you painstakingly cleaned up before he arrived.

"So, how long have you guys been friends?" your roommate, Katy, asks him as he drops into your desk chair. You've been watching her ogle him since he arrived, and if he's still as perceptive as he was in high school, it hasn't escaped his notice either.

"Forever," he says, looking at you with a grin. "We met when we were eight. When she judged my taste in The Beatles, it was over for me."

You can't help the heat that flames in your cheeks, even though you know this story by heart. Katy keeps glancing over at you as he explains how you guys met, and eventually she gets up and flops down onto your bed next to you. "You're bringing him to the party tonight, right?"

Your eyes widen as you remember that was today. "Oh, I don't know. We might just stay in."

"You have to come!" she squeals, shaking your arm. She turns to him with a pointed look. "We already have outfits picked out."

"I guess we gotta go, then," he smiles at her, before looking at me with a small raise of his eyebrow. You okay with that?

You dip your chin into a nod, and he stands up. "I'll head out for a walk as you guys get ready."

"Sounds good!" Katy says, grabbing your hand and sliding off the bed. "We'll see you in an hour."

Once the door closes behind him, Katy turns to you, her mouth agape. "You never told me how cute he is."

"What?" you sputter, your cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

"You also didn't tell me you're, like, in love with him."

You scoff involuntarily, your usual diversion technique when someone brings up a topic you want to evade. "What are you talking about?"

"Okay," she shrugs, reaching into your closet and tossing you the dress you were planning to wear. "If that's how you want to play it."

You go into your attached bathroom to change into your outfit, but after seeing Hotch, the mini sundress you picked out feels like too much. You hate how much you're overthinking something as stupid as an outfit for a party.

You turn away from the mirror and go back into your dorm, where Katy is applying her signature shade of red lipstick in her little mirror stand.

"He has a serious girlfriend," you whisper, almost too quiet for her to hear you. But she is more perceptive than you give her credit for. "Like eventual marriage-serious."

"Oh, honey," she coos, patting the bench seat next to her. You scoot in until you're side by side and she wraps an arm around your shoulders. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"It's okay," you shake your head, leaning on her shoulder. "I just need to get over it. It's a stupid crush that I've had since high school, but it's time. Maybe this party will help."

"Yes, exactly!" she grins, turning her head to look at you. "Nothing that a little music and a few shots can't fix."

"A few shots?" you laugh.

She nods. "Each."

You down another shot of whiskey before tossing your cup onto the table and following Katy onto the dance floor. She grinds against her boyfriend as you dance beside them, moving your hips side to side with the rhythm of the music.

Being in Los Angeles, the temperature outside is already warmer than it should be in November, but inside the house, your dress is sticking to your skin from the sweat and body heat surrounding you.

You're feeling the alcohol enough to have a good time even in the sweaty throng of bodies around you, and you throw your head back as you close your eyes and feel the thump of the music vibrating the floor boards.

Meanwhile, Hotch can't find you anywhere. He's drunk enough already that he knows he won't be able to find you himself, but he doesn't know anyone else here, so he grabs a half empty bottle from the drinks table and makes his way to the dance floor, where the life of the party seems to be centered.

He's usually a lot more fun at parties, but lately he hasn't felt like himself. Ever since you left for school across the country, it has felt like something in his life was wrong, like he was missing a limb. Then, things started looking up with Haley, and he pushed you away in the hopes that he would forget about any of the doubts he had, but it didn't work. The more he missed you, the worse things got in his relationship, and suddenly he wasn't sure what his life was supposed to look like anymore.

He takes another swig from the bottle and leans back against the counter as he watches people dance against each other in the dim light of the house. His eyes flicker over the mess of bodies until they catch on someone he almost doesn't recognize.

Your eyes are closed and your hands are in the air as you move to the beat. It's not exactly graceful music, but you have managed to find some semblance of a rhythm as you slide your hands down your thin dress, which is sticking to your body in a way he can't take his eyes off of.

He doesn't realize he has lifted the bottle to his lips again until the liquid is burning his throat, and he tears his eyes away from you as his head starts to spin. Maybe he's had enough for tonight. He puts the bottle down just as your roommate spots him. Katy, he thinks, or is it Sadie?

"Aaron!" she calls, stumbling over to him as a man holds her up with an arm around her waist. "Where's Y/N?"

"Not sure," he lies easily, barely conscious of the way his words have started to slur together. "I may head out soon."

"Don't leave without her," she instructs, her voice suddenly getting serious. "I'm staying with him tonight." She pats the man's arm. "So I won't be going back with her."

He nods with a resigned sigh, and slumps down on a couch in the next room, leaning his head back to stop the room from spinning.

When you tire of dancing, you push to the back of the crowd and look around to find any familiar face. You can't see Katy or her boyfriend anywhere, but after exiting the room, you spot Hotch asleep on the couch.

You walk forward with a slanted smile and put your hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. "Hotch, get up."

He groans, peeling his eyes open slowly. "I'm awake. Just resting my eyes."

"Yeah, yeah," you tease, looping your arm through his to help him up. "How much did you drink?"

He shrugs and you wrap your arm around his waist to hold him upright as he stumbles forward. "Whoa there. Okay, let's get you back."

You manage to get him out of the house, and once the fresh air hits, he can almost stand up straight on his own. You keep your arm around him just in case, trying to ignore the way his tee shirt is slowly riding up around his waistband.

You make the walk back in silence, and he falls back onto your bed as you lock the door behind you.

"I'm sorry," he whispers when you perch on the edge of the bed next to him.

"It's okay," you say, huffing out a laugh. He looks so young with his hair falling onto his face, and you resist the urge to push it back off his forehead. "Happens to the best of us."

"No, not that." He rolls over with a groan, flopping onto his back and scooting back so he can lay on your pillow. "I'm sorry I stopped calling."

Your heart skips a beat and you tuck your hair behind your ear, needing to occupy your hands somehow as your mind races with a million questions. "It's my fault too."

"No, it's not."

He isn't slurring his words anymore, but you can still hear the earnestness that only comes when one's filter is completely shattered. He was never one to hide things from you, but you also know how truthful people can get when alcohol takes their mask away.

"Haley and I have been having problems for a while," he mutters, making you sigh. So that's why he flew here in the middle of the school year. "We haven't been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things, and we decided to take a break, but I haven't told anyone, because the only person I wanted to tell was you."

You can't look at him. His gaze is too much, his eyes too full of truth and intensity. "Hotch-"

"I miss you so much," he says, cutting you off. "You're the only person I've ever really been able to talk to, but you know that, don't you? It's the same for you, it has to be."

You don't say anything. The air feels thick with tension, and you're afraid that if you say something, the room will explode.

"She's the perfect girlfriend," he says wistfully, his voice tight with an emotion you can't decipher. "I know it's me who's fucking it up, and I hate myself for it, because she's trying so hard to make this work. But every time it feels perfect, and I think I've finally gotten what I wanted, I just remember-"

"Aaron."

You look at him and his eyes are already staring into yours. You have wanted him to love you the way you loved him for years, but not like this. Never like this.

"You can't fuck this up," you whisper, your voice stronger than you expect it to be. "Call Haley tomorrow morning. Tell her you're sorry, and that you love her, because you do. You know you do."

"I love her," he nods as sleep pulls his eyelids down. "Tomorrow..I'll call her."

You watch him as his limbs relax and his breathing evens out, but you don't fall asleep until the sun starts to rise and you physically can't keep your eyes open anymore.

***

"Happy All Hallow's Eve, folks."

Reid pulls his mask off as Derek looks at him with a frightened frown.

"Are you scared of Halloween?" you ask him, trying to keep the grin off your face.

"I didn't say I was scared," he corrects, glancing over at Reid, who drops his mask on his desk and pushes his hair back from his face, "I said I was creeped out."

"What creeps you out about it?" Emily asks, before grinning at you.

"I bet it's the candy," you joke. "Those muscles probably cower at the sight of anything that isn't meat or protein powder."

Emily snorts and Derek frowns at both of you. "It's the masks. I don't like people in disguises."

"That's the best thing about Halloween," Reid chimes in. "You can be anyone you want to be."

Derek grins. "No, I'm pretty good just being me."

You and Emily share a look. "Yeah, why is it that neither of those points of view surprise me?"

"Guys," Reid suddenly calls out, his voice hushed. "He's here."

You turn around to see Hotch walking down the stairs, accompanied by Agent David Rossi, who you've heard a lot about in your years at the bureau. He was one of the founding members of the BAU, and you can't help but wonder what made him want to come back.

JJ introduces him to everyone, before Reid starts spouting off a list of facts from one of the old cases he solved when he was the chief of the unit.

"Reid, slow down," Hotch says with an uncharacteristic smile. "He'll be here for a while. Catch up with him later."

He nods. "Right, sorry."

Agent Rossi doesn't seem fazed. "No problem, Doctor."

This pleasantly surprises you. It's all too often that new people who meet Spencer don't immediately treat him with the respect he deserves.

"Let's start the briefing."

***

The flight back from Texas is hushed. The case went about as well as you could hope, with them catching the unsub and saving the final victim, but the way Rossi went rogue over and over again has rubbed you the wrong way.

You watch him across the cabin as he pores over his little notebook, and you wish you could peek inside his head. You know that the team aspect of the BAU is a newer addition to the unit, but you don't understand how he can keep all of his thoughts to himself.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Gah," you fright, jumping in your seat. "When did you sit next to me?"

Hotch shrugs, his lip quirking up. "A few minutes ago."

"Well, you should really wear a bell or something, god."

"Y/N," he says, giving you a pointed look. He doesn't let you use your evasion tactics anymore. Given your penchant for aimless talking, you suppose that's a good thing.

"I was just thinking about Rossi," you sigh, glancing up at him again. "Lying to the press to get a reaction from the unsub? Taking over that phone call? I don't like how he works, Hotch."

"He's from a different time," he says, even though you can hear the agreement in his voice, "but he worked with Gideon, and if you remember, it took you a while to warm up to him too."

You heave out a breath but it's the only concession you're willing to give in this moment.

"He's used to an older way of doing things, but he's a great agent."

"He clearly has good ideas," you whisper, "but I just worry that you'll have to work over time to keep him under control."

Hotch ponders this, and you think that maybe he knows you're right. Your eyes shift up and you realize his hair has been shorter for a while now, but you're still not used to seeing so much of his forehead. Not that there's anything wrong with his forehead. It's a fine forehead.

"He was the team leader before he retired," Hotch says suddenly. "He may be tough as a subordinate now, but I'm still glad he's back. We needed someone to fill Gideon's spot, we were low on hands."

"Speaking of, why do you think he's back."

He looks at you with a quizzical frown. "Is it really so hard to believe that he may just want to help us out?"

You think for a second, before shrugging. He laughs.

"I don't know," you concede, with a small chuckle. "I think I'm just expecting things from him that aren't fair."

He turns his body to face you. "Like what?"

You press your lips together, trying to formulate your words properly, so you can clearly articulate the tornado of thoughts in your brain. "I know Gideon wasn't a father figure exactly, but he was someone that Reid and Elle latched onto."

Hotch exhales. "I don't know if Gideon is someone I'd want as a father."

You let out a surprised laugh. "Fair enough."

"How is your father doing, by the way?"

You blink in surprise. It's not that he doesn't talk about your family, it's just that the timing is uncanny. You haven't spoken to him in months. After your mom died, you two were almost inseparable, but then you left for school, and you realized how much bigger the world could be when you weren't always bogged down by your grief. "I haven't called him in a while."

"What did he say after Golconda?" he asks, his voice gentle. After Frank, he means.

You close your eyes, guilt flooding your body. "I never told him."

"What?" You don't look at him, but you can see the shock in the stiff line of his posture. "Did something happen between you two?"

You shake your head, your protectiveness over your family flaring up at the concern in his eyes. "Nothing happened. I just didn't want to worry him."

"That's his job," Hotch stresses, scooting his leg over so his knee bumps yours. "If something like that had happened to Jack, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"That's what I'm scared of," you tell him, your eyes flitting over to the window, where the clouds are dancing across the horizon. Sometimes, when you're on the jet, you like to pretend that the time up here isn't real. That as long as the world looks like a series of splotches and blinking lights, nothing can really hurt you. "My mom's death nearly killed him. I learned to cook when I was ten, because he couldn't leave his room for a month." Hotch knows all of this already, but he lets you vocalize your thoughts, obviously knowing how badly you need reassurance for the guilt you're feeling. "Then, when Jeff died, I stayed with him for a few weeks to have some company, but...but.. I was so glad when I left, because then I could finally let myself fall apart."

He reaches under the armrest and clasps your hand in his, extending the comfort you didn't know you needed.

"I've never told anyone that," you whisper, feeling your voice tighten with tears. "I love my dad, I love him so much, but I just needed the chance to recover on my own."

"He loves you too," Hotch says, finally breaking his silence. "You know he loves you. I still remember the themed sandwich baggies that he packed your lunch with all through middle school."

You choke out a laugh. "You would always steal the Spiderman ones."

He smiles, squeezing your hand once. "Maybe you just need to give him another chance to be who you want him to be. He might just surprise you."

You know he's right. Somehow, he's always right.

You nod, flashing him a small smile, and lean your head on his shoulder as the clouds float past your window.

***

He glances at his watch for the tenth time since he sat down in his office. The plane landed just over an hour ago, and he sent you home immediately with the instruction to get some rest. He probably should have gone home too, but ever since he got his new apartment, home hasn't felt the same.

He used to be able to look around any corner and see a memory: the couch where he and Haley made love on their first night at home, the soft carpet where Jack took his first steps, the doorframe where he measured his height on his first birthday as Haley held him up by the arms. He also remembers that he wasn't there to see Jack's first steps; he was in Pittsburgh, working a case and thanking his lucky stars that Haley had had the foresight to take a photo as his son stood upright all by himself.

He lifts the picture frame from the edge of his desk, running his fingers over the cool glass and looking at the blue drawing underneath. Jack had drawn his favorite cartoon character and left it for him on the kitchen table, a few nights before his suspension went into effect.

Putting it back down, he looks at the photograph of him holding onto Haley as she clutches newborn Jack to her chest in the hospital. He still has the photo of just him and her on their wedding, but he pushed it to the back, behind the pictures of Jack, and the one of you and him at law school graduation.

A knock sounds at his door and he looks up to see Dave standing in his doorway. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," he says, waving him in. He doesn't sit down, so Hotch stands up too, unsure of how he feels about the power imbalance in the room. "What can I do for you?"

"You said out there, 'The team shares everything.'"

He nods. "That's right."

"There is no 'I'?"

He nods again, not liking where this may be going.

Dave glances down at his desk, where his phone sits next to the picture frame of his family. "Seems a big thing to withhold. Separating from your wife, your child."

He freezes, unconsciously looking at the door to see if anyone heard. "What are you talking about?"

"You used to call Haley 10 times a day," Dave says, his voice not unkind. "We've been together 48 hours and I haven't seen you call her once. You haven't mentioned her, and you're not going home now."

He frowns, feeling his brow settle into place like it's a uniform he wears whenever he's at the office. "What's your point?"

"I guess you're just not used to sharing."

He doesn't say anything, but Rossi seems to interpret this the wrong way. "Or maybe it's something else." He looks out the window at the empty bullpen, but the implication is still clear. "Was it because of...?"

"What?" He doesn't know where this is coming from, but he can't stop the anger that rumbles through him at the connotation. Unable to help it, he looks down at your desk, and Dave tuts.

"I won't say anything."

"Dave," he shakes his head, trying to remain calm. "You have it all wrong. She's my best friend...since we were children. It isn't like that. It was never-"

It was never like that. That's what he's about to say, but that wouldn't be true. Rossi is a good enough profiler that he would be able to spot a lie from a mile away, so he shuts his mouth and shakes his head again. "It's not like that."

"Okay," he accepts, lifting his hands in surrender. "My mistake."

Hotch nods, and Dave leaves his office, but he can't get their conversation out of his head until later that night when his head hits his pillow and his eyes finally fall shut.

***

"Hey, Dad."

You called him when you got home from work that night, and he answered on the second ring. "Hi, sweetheart."

"How are you?" you ask, clutching the phone to your ear as you sink down onto the couch in your living room.

He doesn't answer for a moment, and you can hear him taking a breath. "I'm good, Y/N, how are you? Is work going well?"

"It's good," you tell him. "Really good. We were able to save a woman today, before the unsub could kill her."

"Unsub?"

"Unknown subject," you explain, quickly realizing just how long it's been since you've spoken to him. "It's what we call the bad guy before we know who he is."

"Right," he says, and you can practically see him rubbing a hand over his face, his nervous tic. "I knew that. Anyway, how is everything in your life? Do you still work with Aaron?"

"Yeah, I do," you say with a laugh. "He was actually asking about you earlier today."

"That's nice of him," your dad says, his voice brightening slightly. "He was always a good friend to you."

You tell him about your most recent case, and about Gideon and Elle leaving the team, but eventually you can't evade the topic you've been trying to avoid all night.

You're okay, you think to yourself. Frank can't hurt you anymore.

"Dad," you whisper, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. In 1, 2, 3. Out 1, 2, 3. "I have something to tell you."

Then you tell him everything, and he just listens, exactly like you hoped he would.

***

"I met this guy." You didn't even see Penelope approach you, but here she is, looking at you like she's about to say something dirty.

"Hell yeah," you grin, trying to match her energy. "Where?"

"A coffee shop," she smirks. "He was having trouble with his computer, so I fixed it for him, and then he asked for my number."

"Look at you," you joke, giving her a side squeeze, "putting your technical analyst skills to good use."

"Thank you," she huffs, throwing an annoyed glance over her shoulder. "That's more of the response I was looking for."

"What do you mean?"

"Derek," she says simply, and you nod, already knowing where she's going with this. You know they have an uncommon relationship, so you're not surprised that he didn't react exactly how she hoped he would.

"He's an idiot," you tell her, patting her arm.

She laughs. "You don't even know what he did."

"Uh, yeah," you say, turning around to face the bullpen, "I definitely do."

***

The case takes the team to Florida, where an unsub has been feeding women their fingers, killing them, and then carving pentagrams in their skin.

The pentagrams suggest a religious element, so you go with JJ, Morgan, and Rossi to the local church to meet with the priest.

"Rossi, do me a favor," Morgan says just before you walk inside. "You talk to the priest, all right?"

You remember his agitation on the jet when Reid prodded him about his beliefs, and given the cruelty of his childhood, a crisis of faith wouldn't surprise you.

"Hi, Father Marks," JJ greets the priest when you enter the church. She introduces all of you to him, before shaking his hand. "We're sorry we have to be here under these circumstances."

"It's good of you to come," he says, greeting all of you. "Abbey's parents are upstairs in my office."

"We'll go up," Rossi says with a nod, "but Agent Morgan actually has some questions for you."

Your eyes flash to Rossi, but he doesn't return your gaze.

"I have some questions too," you offer, and Derek nods gratefully.

The priest answers the few questions Derek spits out at him, and you watch as his eyes wander around the hall, his shoulders raised with tension. You insert a few of your own questions before heading outside with him to wait for JJ and Rossi to finish up with the victim's parents.

"What happened in there?" you ask when he doesn't meet your eye. "Being rude to Father Marks? That wasn't like you."

"You know what happened to me, L/N," he says angrily, kicking his foot out at a loose stone on the pavement. "I went to church everyday, and I prayed for it to stop, but you know what God did? Nothing."

"I know what a crisis of faith looks like, Derek." You stand in front of him, forcing him to look at you. "But Father Marks doesn't know your story. He's not judging you, he's just showing his faith how he knows best."

His shoulders are still tense as his jaw twitches. "Who does Rossi think he is, throwing me under the bus like that?"

"He's an instigator," you shrug, letting the topic slide for the time being. You'll talk to him again later if he still needs it.

"I didn't love the way Gideon did things either," Derek says, his posture going from agitation to annoyance, "but Rossi might just take the cake. Even if he is better with the victim's families."

"I can't help you there," you almost laugh. "I had the same conversation with Hotch after the case in Texas, and he managed to convince me to give the guy a chance. So...if you can't bring yourself to trust him, just think of it as putting your trust in Hotch."

Derek hums, bumping your shoulder with his. "I guess I can do that."

***

The search party for Tracey Lambert only leads to the unsub taking another woman, and suddenly the ticking clock gets a lot louder. By the time you find his lair and the bodies he has been cannibalizing for years, you're already struggling to keep down even the water you've been drinking. When he reveals where Tracey actually is, you feel so sick, you can't breathe.

When the jet lands back in Virginia, you go home immediately, desperately needing some peace and quiet away from the team for the first time in a while. But that doesn't last long.

You're awoken by the shrill ringing of your home phone. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you check the number and answer the phone. "Is this payback for the last time I called you past midnight?"

"Y/N...it's Garcia."

You shoot up into a sitting position as Hotch explains what happened. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know."

"I'm on my way."

You change into a sweater and a pair of loose jeans before grabbing your keys and flying out the door.

"She's in surgery," JJ tells you when you find them in the waiting room. She pulls you into a hug before returning to her hunched position in an uncomfortable vinyl chair.

"There's no other word," Hotch adds, giving you a quick hug as well. With his cheek pressed against your temple, he whispers, "Police think it may have been a botched robbery."

"Where's Morgan?" Emily asks, standing up from her chair.

"He's not answering his cell."

Reid nods, stepping away. "I'll call him again."

He squeezes your hand before he exits the waiting area, and you glance down at JJ again. Her eyes are red from crying, and her chin is pressed into her palm as she stares at the floor. You watch as Emily sits next to her and pats her hand, before clasping it in hers.

You don't realize you've been staring at the same spot on the floor until Hotch stands next to you and nudges your shoulder. You okay?

"I will be," you say out loud, barely registering that he didn't actually ask you anything. "As soon as she's out of surgery." When you got the call that Penelope was shot, you had been hit by an intense feeling of deja vu. Only this time, the call didn't come from bureau leadership, because she wasn't killed at the scene. Because she's going to make it.

He doesn't seem fazed as he checks his watch again, his frown lines deepening. "It shouldn't take this long to get an update."

"Where have you been?" Reid asks suddenly. You look up to see Derek walking into the waiting room, his eyes wide with panic.

"I was in church. My phone was off."

"There's nothing you could have been doing here," Rossi assures him, before nodding at Hotch and pulling him aside to discuss something with the deputies outside. You use the momentary lull to approach Derek, putting your hand on his arm as an initial test. When he doesn't jerk back, you pull him into a hug that he returns gratefully.

The doctor walks in a few minutes later and explains that Penelope will be fine, but she needs to rest until the morning.

"David and I will go to the scene," Hotch informs, his eyes fixing each of you with an empathetic look. "I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don't care about protocol. I don't care whether we're working this officially, or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this."

When they leave, you pull Derek down into the chair next to you and lean your head onto his shoulder. After a beat, he relaxes in his seat, and lets out a long sigh. "She's okay."

***

Early the next morning, the doctor shakes you all awake with the notice that Penelope's up, so you rush into her room, trying not to crowd her as she blinks awake.

"Hi," she says softly, her voice small. She looks so innocent, laying in her hospital bed with her blonde hair a halo around her head. You can't imagine how anyone would want to hurt someone like her.

"No tears," she smiles as you swallow down your anger. "I'm afraid if I start crying, I'll come unstapled."

JJ presses a kiss to her cheek, before Derek and Emily start gently plying her with the usual questions. When it comes out that the man who shot her was the same man who asked her out at the coffee shop, your anger turns to anguish, and you reach forward to squeeze Penelope's hand in an effort to comfort her.

"I just thought he liked me," she whispers, the pain in her voice breaking your heart.

"We need a name," Emily asks abruptly. You can see her mentally kicking herself at how serious her words came out, but you know Penelope understands the gravity of this situation.

"James Colby Baylor."

She asks you and JJ to stay back for a second as the rest of the team leaves to investigate Baylor.

"What's up, honey?" you ask, smiling at her sweetly as she uses her other hand to take JJ's.

"I feel so stupid," she sighs, her breath turning into a gasp as tears fill her eyes. "Maybe Derek was right about all of it."

"No," JJ says sternly, reaching forward to brush some of her hair behind her ear. "None of this is on you."

"What she said," you echo, nodding at JJ, "and don't listen to Morgan. He loves you, and he's very protective over you, but he's also a man."

She sniffles out a laugh, before pressing her lips together. "One last thing."

JJ blinks. "Anything."

"Please don't talk about me like I'm a victim."

***

The case wraps up back at the office, where Baylor, whose real name is Deputy Battle, was shot in the head by JJ, who doesn't seem as plussed by the situation as you would expect. You tried to talk to her afterwards, but after telling you she was fine, she put all of her attention on Penelope, who has spent the last week recovering at home.

Now, you're sitting in the break room stirring your black coffee, just for something to do. Hotch finds you in there and walks inside, shutting the door behind him.

"It's been a long week," he grumbles, looking longingly at the spot next to you on the worn couch.

You lift your cup and nod your head at the full coffee pot. "That's what caffeine's for."

"We really should sleep at some point," he says, filling up a paper cup and carefully dropping into the spot beside you. The couch you chose is small enough that his thigh presses against yours when he spreads his legs even the slightest bit.

You snort. "Sleep's overrated."

You both sip your steaming coffees in silence as you watch the other agents shuffle back and forth across the bullpen, unaware of your watchful eyes. The break room is the one place in the office to go for a little bit of privacy, but the unobstructed view of everyone's desks isn't unpleasant either. You imagine this is how Hotch feels when he looks out his office window.

Your eye catches on the stapled wood planks that are currently replacing the broken glass door that leads into the bullpen. He must be looking at the same thing, because he breaks the silence and says, "I think we may need to get JJ out into the field more."

His tone catches you off guard and you crack a small smile. "She does seem remarkably well-adjusted, given that it was her first time."

He nods, turning his head to look at you. "Do you remember your first time?" Killing someone, is the part he doesn't say out loud.

"Of course." You take a deep breath and gulp back more coffee. "He was a serial rapist in Texas. One shot to the heart. I wasn't trying to kill him, he just ran at the last second."

"Serial killer in Florida," he responds simply. "Headshot. He died instantly."

"That was your first year at the BAU, right?" He nods and you sink back into the cushions. "I wasn't even in the field then."

He hums, a low sound that you feel as vibrations on your skin. "I worry that I brought you in here too early. Jeff had just died, and I assumed that getting you out of the house and in the field would take your mind off of things, but I wonder sometimes if I made the wrong call."

"You didn't," you assure him, turning your body to face his, even as he doesn't meet your eye. "First of all, you brought me in six months after he died, and by then, I definitely needed an excuse to leave my bedroom."

He sighs, a small concession, and you continue. "The first case I went into the field for after he died, I could barely hold my gun. Every time I pulled it on someone, I would imagine his body...with all of those bullet holes...and I would just freeze up. It took me months to pass my firearm certification again, but I still don't regret it."

"You sure?" he asks, his voice almost timid.

"Positive," you smile, nudging your thigh against his. "Besides, I didn't realize it until later, but it wasn't getting out into the field that helped me through my grief...it was meeting the team. These people became my family in the moment that I needed one most."

You turn back to your coffee and sip it again, though it's no longer as hot as you'd like it to be.

"How are you doing, by the way?" he asks suddenly. "With Garcia, I mean."

An involuntary shudder runs through you as you remember her pale face in her hospital bed last week, but the warmth of the coffee cup in your hands makes it pass quickly. "I'll never get used to it. But she's okay now, so hopefully it'll be easier this time."

***

You're jotting down notes in the margins of a new case file JJ asked you to look over when your cell phone rings. Hotch and Reid are at a nearby prison, interviewing a serial killer on death row for the Criminal Personality Research Project, so you're not expecting a call from either of them. The rest of the team, except for Rossi, is scattered around the bullpen, but you don't expect him to call you either.

After finishing the line you were writing, you check your phone and see a name you haven't spoken to in weeks.

"Haley," you answer after clicking open your cell. "Is everything okay?"

"I know you're busy," she sighs, her voice tight with what you can only decipher as irritation, "but I didn't know who else to call. Aaron hasn't been answering my phone calls."

You get up from your desk and step out into the hallway to get some privacy. "He and Dr. Reid are at a prison right now, interviewing a criminal for this research project. There likely isn't any cell service out there."

"It's not just today, Y/N," she says, her tone getting colder as she inadvertently directs her anger towards the only person she can get ahold of. "He hasn't been taking my calls for days."

"I can talk to him," you suggest, trying to keep your tone light in an effort to keep this conversation from derailing. "I'll tell him to give you a call."

"I appreciate that," she sighs, losing her steam. "I'm sorry for involving you, I just really need to speak with him about something."

"Is everything alright with you and Jack?" you ask her quickly, wanting to make sure that you aren't making the wrong assumptions about why she's calling.

"Oh!" she inhales sharply. "Yes, of course, we're doing great. Well, great maybe isn't the right word, I didn't mean- I just-" She sighs. "You know what I mean."

"I do," you assure her as your heart twists at the sound of her shallow breathing. You know how hard the separation has been on Hotch, but you know Haley too, and she has always been better at hiding her pain that she seems. "Where have you been staying?"

"With Jess," she says, her voice brightening considerably at the mention of her sister. "She's been a godsend. I feel terrible taking up so much of her space, but she doesn't seem to mind."

You smile, remembering the few times you met Jessica Brooks while Haley and Hotch were together. "She definitely doesn't mind. She always loved children. I bet she's already scheming on how to steal Jack from you."

Haley laughs, and the sound is like wind chimes twinkling in your ear. "She totally is."

Her laughter slowly fades, and you both stay on the line for a few moments in comfortable silence.

"I'll tell him to call you," you promise.

"I know," she sighs. "Thank you."

***

The prison was a bust, but Reid got a chance to use his intelligence to get them out of a tough spot without anyone getting hurt, so the day wasn't a total loss.

He is sitting in his office, drafting an email to the project coordinator, when you walk inside and take a seat in front of his desk.

"Thanks for knocking," he says sarcastically before finishing up the sentence he was working on. Once it's done, he saves the draft and turns off his computer. "How was Indianapolis?"

"Good," you say, leaning back in the chair. "Great, actually. Rossi got to close up the case that's been haunting him for a decade, and the three kids are finally safe."

"I'm surprised he wasn't more excited when he got back," he notes, watching your body language. You look wired, but not about this. Something else is bothering you.

"The unsub wasn't exactly the most gratifying arrest," you sigh, rubbing a hand over your temple. "We don't even think he committed the murders intentionally."

He frowns, shaking his head. "Those are the worst kind."

You're silent for a moment before you sit up straighter and look at him. "Haley called me this morning. While you were at the prison."

"Oh?" Something that feels like ice slithers down his spine even though he can probably guess exactly how the conversation went.

All week, he has felt an enormous weight on his chest in the form of a stack of divorce papers that Haley served him with. She had called him right after, with the explanation that they both should have seen this coming, but he really hadn't. He was a profiler, whose entire job was to notice and analyze human behavior, and he truly hadn't been able to let himself believe that this could be a possibility. That his marriage could actually be over.

"She said you've been ignoring her calls."

He had been ignoring them. He knew she would just tell him to sign the papers, and he couldn't bear to hear her say it again. Once was enough.

He reaches into his desk and pulls out the manila folder that he hasn't opened since his initial read-through. He suspects you already know what he's about to tell you, but he also knows that it won't feel real until he says it out loud. And it's about time he came to terms with what his life would be from now on. "Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers, uncontested."

"She doesn't want to involve a lawyer?" you ask, your voice delicate as you walk him through the explanation with clarifying questions. It's the technique they use when interviewing the families of victims, to help them feel comfortable as they talk about the hardest thing they've ever gone through. He's surprised at how reassuring it feels coming from you.

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. It has grown out a bit since he last cut it, but he doesn't think he minds. Haley wanted him to cut it short when Jack was in his grabbing and teething phase, but now, he likes how he can push it back when he wants. "I don't want to sign, of course, but she's adamant that we get this done soon."

"You'll be okay," you say, and he looks up in surprise. "You're a good man, Aaron."

"I'm not," he whispers, heaving out a sigh. "I'm not doing anything right. At home, I was an awful husband and an absent father, and at work, Strauss would replace me if she had even the slightest bit more ammunition. I can't focus in either place. Maybe Haley's right, maybe I'm just selfish."

You lean forward and grab his hand, even as he doesn't look at you. "You're not selfish. You're the farthest thing from selfish. You don't want to sign, but you will. You're giving her what she wants, even though it's the last thing you want."

He nods, but his heart isn't in it. He glances down at the folder again and takes a deep breath as you give him a small smile and stand up.

"I'll see you tomorrow, boss?"

He nods again. "See you tomorrow."

When the door shuts behind you, he flips open the folder, faster than he meant to, but he's afraid if he doesn't do this quickly he'll lose his nerve. Grabbing a random pen from the mug on his desk, he uncaps it and scrawls out his initials on all of the earmarked lines throughout the stack.

When he finishes the last page, he shuts the folder and leans back in his chair, letting out a long exhale. He did it. He supposes he should feel some sort of severing away of his old life, maybe an audible snap as the ties to his marriage get cut, but there's just silence.

His office suddenly feels stifling, and he loosens his tie before reaching forward and lifting the picture frame with him and Haley on their wedding day. Her smile still looks beautiful to him, and his content expression as he gazes at her doesn't make him feel anything different. Their marriage may be over, but he still loved her.

He runs his thumb over the smooth edge of the frame, and then opens his desk drawer, before sticking it inside and pushing it closed.

***

"Thank you for watching him," Hotch says, his voice slightly muffled over the phone.

"Of course," you smile, sitting down on your couch with the pasta you made for dinner. "It was my pleasure. Jack's a total sweetheart."

Jess was out of town for a couple of days, so he had asked you to watch Jack while he and Haley met up to finalize the divorce in front of an attorney. She had been adamant about finishing the process over the phone, but he wanted to ensure that she and Jack would be taken care of after the papers went through.

"Did he eat lunch?"

"Kind of," you say, quickly swallowing the bite you took. "He didn't want a full meal, but I got him to eat some fruit and bread with cheese."

"I'll make him a snack soon," he says quietly, but you can tell he's just thinking out loud. "Alright, I'll see you at the office. Thanks again."

"Always," you tell him, genuinely. "See you."

The phone clicks off and you scarf down the rest of your pasta before doing your dirty dishes and cleaning up your kitchen. You're considering whether to change into your workout clothes so you can crank out a few miles on your Peloton, but then you hear a knock on your door.

You're not expecting anyone, and with Hotch watching Jack, it can't be him. You peek around the corner into your foyer to see who's at the door, and relax when you spot a familiar mop of brown hair.

"I'm sorry I didn't call first," Spencer says when you open the door, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his book bag. "I just didn't know how to ask you this over the phone."

"Spence, what is it?" you ask, opening the door further to let him in. He doesn't step forward, and a pinprick of anxiety enters your system.

"If I come inside, I won't be able to do this," he says vaguely, before reaching into his bag and pulling out a flyer. He hands it to you and you read the title, the tension seeping from your body as the words sink in: Narcotics Anonymous for Law Enforcement.

"I know it's a lot to ask," he whispers, "but would you drive me to the meeting tonight?"

Your heart feels like it's about to crack open. Only a boy who was never looked after, never given the love and care he deserved, would think that something like this was too much to ask.

"It's not too much," you tell him, glancing down at the address. "I'll get my keys."

When he's settled in your passenger seat, you pull out of the driveway, not commenting on the fact that his car is parked on the street beside your sidewalk. You understand the need for company more than most people.

The drive to the rec center where the meeting is being held is mostly silent, but you don't press him. He stares down at his hands for most of the ride, and when you stop in front of the entrance, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to you. "Thank you."

"Of course," you smile. "I can wait, if you'd like."

He gives you a thin-lipped smile. "It's okay."

"You sure?"

He presses his lips together and looks at you, his eyes reflecting the question in yours.

"Go on," you say, patting his arm. "I'll be here."

He nods and steps out of your car, and you pull into a parking space to wait in while he's in the meeting. You turn on the radio and it's the same song they've been playing for the last week, so you turn the volume down low and close your eyes for a few peaceful moments.

You must have fallen asleep, because you're jarred awake by the chirping sound of your cell phone ringing. It's a bureau number, so you clear your throat and answer the call. "L/N."

"Hey, Y/N." It's JJ, and she sounds tired. "We have a case. It's urgent, so we're flying to Texas tonight."

You sigh louder than you meant to. "I can be there in 20."

"See you soon."

The line clicks off and you rub the sleep from your eyes. A quick check of your watch tells you that you were only asleep for about a half hour, but that's just half of the meeting time. You know Spencer will come back when he gets the call, so you turn the radio off and sit up in your seat.

A few minutes later, he returns to the car. You saw him just over 30 minutes ago, but he already looks lighter than he did when he got to your house.

"I'm proud of you, Spence," you tell him as you start the car.

He nods, a quick thanks. "This federal agent gave me his one year medallion after I left the meeting. I've only been clean for 10 months, but he still gave it to me."

"He believes in you," you say simply, glancing over at his confused expression.

"He doesn't even know me."

You shrug. "You don't have to really know someone to care about them, Spencer. You just have to see something of yourself in them."

"Is that what you see in me?" he asks, finally looking at you.

You consider this for a moment. Is that why you feel so protective over him?

"I don't know," you say eventually, not wanting to lie, even by accident. "I definitely wasn't as smart as you were, or as focused. I wasn't all that driven in high school at all, to be honest. I was lucky to have Hotch. He gave me the push I needed to get out there and focus on school."

He's silent for a minute and you worry you may have said something wrong. Then: "I didn't have anyone in school." He pauses for a beat, before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. "I was in the library one day, and this girl comes up to me, and she tells me that Alexa Isben wants to meet me behind the field house. Alexa Isben was, like...easily the prettiest girl in school."

You frown, already not liking where this story is going. "Did she not show up?"

"No, she was there." His voice sounds almost resigned, but there's a note of something darker underneath. Something raw and painful, that likely still hurts after all these years. "But so was the entire football team. They stripped me naked and tied me to a goal post. So many kids were there, you know, just watching."

"No one stopped them?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I begged them to, but they just...they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left." He clears his throat, and the sound is small, like a little boy's. "It was like midnight when I finally got home. And my mom didn't...Mom was having one of her episodes, so she didn't even realize I was late."

"You never told her what happened?"

He shakes his head. "I never told anybody. I thought it was one of those things that I thought if I didn't talk about it, I'd just forget. But I remember it like it was yesterday."

"You don't need an eidetic memory for that, Spence," you whisper, trying to stay focused on the road even as his words swirl into your memories and create an agonizing hurricane of emotions. "I was only ten years old when my mom was killed, but I can still remember every moment of her funeral."

The field office comes into view and you push forward as you scan your badge and slide into a parking spot below the upper garage. When the car is in park, you undo your seatbelt and turn to him. "I know how hard it can be to push away the painful memories, but there's something more important that I need you to remember."

"Remember what?"

He looks at you then, and you reach forward to squeeze his hand. "You're not alone anymore."

***

"Is it always this hot?" You look up at the beating sun through your shaded sunglasses and fan your face with both of your hands.

"Every day, all day," Emily huffs, running her fingers through her bangs to unstick them from her forehead.

Everyone is sweltering in the Miami heat, but then Derek gets off the plane with a wide grin, his skin glistening in the sun, and you resist the urge to throw your bag at him. "South Beach, baby."

He immediately shuts up when he spots the stunning Miami PD detective who called your team in for the recent string of murders. JJ shoots you a smirk before introducing her to the team. "Detective Lopez. We spoke on the phone."

"Tina," she corrects, before shaking her hand. "Thank you for coming down so quickly."

"Hey," Emily says from beside you, making you turn to see what she's looking at. "Isn't that..."

You spot the person she's referring to, and your face splits into a big smile. "Detective LaMontagne!"

"He's here to ID the cop they pulled from the bay last night," Tina explains.

You don't miss the flush in JJ's cheeks as she shakes his hand. "Detective, good to see you."

"How are you?" you ask, giving him a quick hug that he returns.

"Yeah, Charlie Luvet and I worked together for seven years."

Derek frowns. "Sorry for your loss, man."

Tina looks confused, and you don't blame her. "So, you all know each other?"

"Professionally," JJ is quick to add. Will whips around to look at her, and you turn to Emily with an eyebrow raise, feeling like you're intruding on a private moment. You aren't sure why she won't just admit that they've been together since New Orleans, but that's her business.

***

You join JJ and Will at the IDing of Officer Luvet, and you keep your distance as he glances down at the body and affirms the report.

"Yeah, that's him."

JJ looks like she wants to comfort him, but instead she sticks to the professional approach. "If you need help making arrangements, liaising with families is part of what I do."

Will nods, his voice choking up slightly. "I might just take you up on that. Excuse me, I'll be outside."

When he steps outside of the coroner's office, you can't help but notice the longing look on JJ's face as she watches him go.

"Let's go," she says to you softly, her eyes still on the door. You follow her outside, but by then Will is nowhere to be found.

"It's okay, you know," you blurt out. You weren't really planning on talking to her about this, but sometimes your mouth takes over before your brain can catch up. "I know you worry that being around a band of profilers all the time makes you vulnerable."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," she says simply, not quite meeting your eye.

"JJ," you say seriously, trying to convey your pure intentions. "If you keep trying to hide it, you'll lose him."

She purses her lips, and you squeeze her forearm, hoping you aren't pushing past her boundaries. The whole team is sparing with details about their personal lives, but you like to think that you're someone people feel comfortable sharing things with.

"I know you, hon." You flash her a knowing smile, feeling a shot of satisfaction as her lip twitches. "I know that it's enough for you to know that you care about something, but it's not enough for everyone."

She exhales, tucking her hair behind her ears. "He's upset with me, but I don't know what to do. I'm still scared."

You sigh, understanding her predicament, but still wanting her to push past it. "You can let yourself be happy, JJ. You won't always get hurt."

She nods before glancing around the room again, searching for Will even though he's long gone. It's an instinct you recognize.

Later, when JJ finally acknowledges their relationship by pulling him in for a kiss at the police station, you can't help but take it as a win.

***

Your house feels emptier than usual when you get back from Miami. Seeing JJ and Will find each other again reminded you of how much you miss having someone to share your life with.

Deciding to take a night to yourself, you pop open a bottle of red, and pour yourself a glass, which you swirl around before taking a sip. It's drier than you tend to go for, and when you check the label, you realize that's because you didn't buy it.

How can you drink this stuff?

It makes me feel sophisticated.

Jeff would break out the fancy glassware every chance he got, because he didn't believe in special occasions. He used to say that people waste precious moments of their life waiting for the right occasion to come around.

The memory feels warm in the back of your mind, and you take another sip of wine before walking over to your cupboard and grabbing the fanciest wine glass you can find. You pour the rest of your wine into the new glass and place the other in the sink, before swirling it around again. No time like the present.

You bring the glass to the couch with you, where you turn on the television and skip through the first few channels. As the wine in your glass depletes, the loneliness sets back in. You're about to pour yourself another pity glass when your phone buzzes with a call from Hotch.

"Do your television channels suck as much as mine do?"

You smile, muting the television and pressing the phone to your ear. "Definitely not."

He chuffs. "I guess I'm not used to the new tv controls."

Right, his new apartment. After the papers were finalized, he gave the house to Haley and moved into a new place ten minutes away.

"We can share mine," you say, listening to the sounds of his breath over the receiver. "I also have wine."

That gets a laugh. "I'll be there in 15."

You hear a knock on your door exactly 14 minutes later. When you open it, you're greeted with the sight of Hotch in a tee shirt and jeans. "A little underdressed, aren't we?"

He snorts, taking the wine glasses from your hands and following you into the family room. "What are we watching?"

"You're the one with the broken tv," you grin, flopping down on the couch and taking your glass from him. "What do you want to watch?"

He thinks for a minute, before his eyes sparkle with an idea. You cut him off before he can suggest what you already know he will. "We are not watching Top Gun again, Hotch!"

"You asked," he shrugs, hiding his smile behind a sip of wine. "What do you want to watch, then?"

You can see him watching you over the rim of his glass, so you blurt out the first name that comes to your mind. "Footloose."

He looks at you blankly for a moment, before his brow twitches, and your jaw drops. "You haven't seen Footloose?!"

"It came out when we were in high school," he groans, taking one of the throw pillows off the couch and stuffing it behind his back. "Terminator and Dune came out that same year. I remember because you tried to get me to watch it then too."

"It's an amazing movie!" you exclaim, standing up to go dig through your movie cabinet. "We're watching it right now."

He groans and sinks back into the pillows as you find the DVD and start the movie. You've seen it at least a dozen times, mostly because it makes you nostalgic for your teenage years, but the opening still gets you excited.

As the movie plays, you keep glancing over at Hotch, trying to see if he's enjoying the scenes just as much as you did on your first watch. To his credit, he watches the movie faithfully, without checking his phone or straying from the television screen.

"Enough," he grumbles suddenly, startling you.

"What?" you question, whipping your head around to face the screen.

"I'm watching the movie," he huffs, fixing you with a pointed look. "You don't have to keep checking."

You frown, hugging a pillow to your chest. "I wasn't checking, I just like seeing people's reactions to my favorite movies."

"Either way."

You groan, reaching out to thwack his arm.

"Eyes on the screen," he berates you, pointing at the TV. "The dance scene is starting."

You sip your wine bitterly as you try to resist the urge to glance over at him. Eventually, the movie takes over your attention and soon it's the final town council scene where Kevin Bacon gives a speech to the whole town.

"'There was a time for this law'," you quote along with the movie, "'but not anymore.'"

The movie comes to an end, and you click the remote to turn off the television. When you turn to Hotch with an excited grin, you're surprised to see that he has fallen asleep.

His head has fallen to the side, resting on the armrest, and he looks so peaceful with his expression completely neutral. His characteristic frown is nowhere to be seen as he snores quietly through his nose.

Your lips curve into a smile as you stand up and grab a blanket from a basket beside the couch. You drape it over his body, being careful not to wake him, and take the wine glasses to the sink before heading up for bed.

***

"That's because you pick horses the same way you practice law."

You hold your breath as he glances into the crowd for a brief second.

"...by always taking the long shot."

Emily snickers under her breath, and you see even Reid crack a smile as the lawyer starts floundering. The rest of the day in court goes by quickly and you all wait for Hotch in the hallway of the courthouse as he finishes up inside.

"That was impressive," you grin, nudging his shoulder as he walks alongside you. "I can't believe that was my first time seeing you in full prosecutor mode."

"Hardly," he says, rolling his eyes lightly. "I was called to give testimony, it's very different."

"I'm just surprised that prosecutor is still walking after how hard you hit him." He shoots you a look and you raise your hands in surrender. "Metaphorically, of course."

"That was a straight knock out." Derek comes up behind you and throws an arm around your shoulder as he spins you both to face Hotch. "The crowd practically cheered when you cleaned the floor with him."

"Thank you," he concedes, flashing his eyes at you. "Now let's get back to work. We still have to get more evidence for the rest of the trial."

And just like that, everyone switches back into work mode. Derek drops his arm and jogs forward to catch up to Rossi and Spencer, while Emily calls Garcia to get the latest update.

Using the moment of solitude, you bump his shoulder again. "Do you ever wish you were still a prosecutor? Your life would certainly be a lot simpler."

He shakes his head, the answer coming quickly and firmly. "I couldn't do it then, and I still couldn't now. Seeing the murderers come in after they've finished killing...I needed to know I could stop them before they were done."

His sentiment sounds familiar. Your mind flashes back to the little boy who took matters into his own hands, because no one could stop the pain for him.

You blink and it's present day again. You loved your best friend who fought his own battles without asking for help, and, even though he's vastly different, you love your best friend as he is now.

***

"Five shootings in two weeks."

"It's about time we got the call."

The whole team, plus Garcia, flies up to New York, where an unsub has been shooting people around the city, seemingly at random.

"Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office," Hotch explains, glancing down at his cell phone. "She's running point on the case and called me directly."

You have heard of her, which isn't too surprising, but all you know is that she's British and seems to be very good at her job.

"You know her?" Morgan asks him, echoing your thoughts.

Hotch nods. "We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard."

They liaised. You don't know what that implies, but you also know that he and Haley didn't take a single break during their relationship after graduating college, so it can't be anything too personal.

JJ and Emily share a look, but you don't engage with them, instead looking back at the case file and trying to focus on any of the words that aren't 'Kate Joyner'.

***

"Kate."

A pretty blonde woman approaches you all with a smile only for Hotch. "Aaron. How have you been?"

He nods. "Well, thank you. This is my team." He introduces each of you to her, but you don't miss how her eyes linger on you when he mentions your name.

"Thanks for being here," she says, before walking you all through the background of the case. Shootings in different precincts, seemingly random, FBI only brought in after the fourth murder.

After explaining the details and introducing you to the local detectives on the case, she pulls Hotch aside for a private word in her office. You turn back to the team, trying not to let your gaze linger on them as they walk away.

The NYPD doesn't seem happy that SSA Joyner has taken over their case, but even though she comes off as a bit brusque, you can tell she cares about catching this unsub just as much as they do.

"What's your partner's problem?" Reid asks Detective Cooper, the only local officer who has made an effort to meet any of you.

"We're glad the FBI was brought in," he explains with a heavy sigh, "but all of a sudden Joyner's taking meetings with the mayor and calling in you all without us knowing anything about it."

You can understand his hesitation, but you also need his cooperation if you're going to get anything done here.

"We're only here to help," Emily tells him as you turn around to find JJ.

"Has Garcia gotten settled in with the New York tech analyst?" you ask once you find her staring at a map of the various boroughs. She doesn't answer immediately, so you nudge her shoulder. "JJ?"

"Huh?" she startles. "Oh, sorry, yeah. She called a few minutes ago, she's all good."

JJ is usually the focused one who brings you back on track, so you're surprised by how distracted she seems. You nod in acknowledgement, scrutinizing her expression for another second, before heading back to the team. Your eyes involuntarily dart over to Kate's office, and you notice how close together she and Hotch are. You're about to avert your eyes when their body language becomes a bit clearer: each time she leans in to say something, he subtly pulls back.

The dynamic of their relationship is suddenly apparent, and you mentally kick yourself for daring to assume the worst when he first mentioned her. You can't say the same for your opinion of her, though. He's still wearing his ring, for God's sake. Based on how little you've heard about her from him (nothing, you mean), you doubt she even knows about the divorce yet.

Derek and JJ head out with the detectives to check out the last crime scene, while you stay back with Emily and Spencer to build the anti-geographical profile. When another victim is shot, you head to the new scene to see if you can build a working profile.

"It's a different borough again," you sigh after getting out of the SUV and joining Hotch, Kate, Derek, and JJ in front of the body. "Prentiss and Reid are back at the office still working the profile from a geographical angle. We're starting to think maybe we should get officers out onto the high-traffic intersections, and maybe even get some of us out there too."

"Uniforms are rounding up witnesses," Kate jumps in, ignoring you. "It doesn't seem like anyone got a clean look."

You see Derek glance at you out of the corner of your eye, but you don't entertain the look. If she has some issue with you that you aren't aware of, you won't give her the satisfaction of letting her get to you. "The unsub's probably gone before anyone even realizes it's happening,"

Hotch nods, turning to face Kate. "Is this what it felt like during the Son of Sam."

She returns his gaze. "First we realized that if the violence was truly random, there was almost no way of stopping it. Seems like these people have figured that out."

You look up, trying to see if there's anything in the vicinity you can use to ID the unsub. Your eyes catch on a security camera outside one of the delis directly behind you. "From the placement of that camera, odds are the only view they're going to get is the back of his head."

She frowns. "Let's not be too quick to decide what we do or don't have."

This time it's both Derek and JJ that glance at you, but you turn to Hotch, who is avoiding meeting your eyes. Kate steps away to speak with the detectives at the scene, so you grab his arm and pull him aside. "What is her problem?"

He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. "FBI brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn't bring this case home, she's going to be reassigned. And you are at the top of the list to replace her."

"Replace her?" you echo, trying to process what he's saying. "I haven't even been in the BAU that long."

"It's not about field experience," he says, angling his body so that you're separated from the others. "You've been with the bureau longer than I have, and your work speaks for itself. It's not a surprise that they'd want to promote you."

You still can't wrap your head around the fact that you could be leading a unit yourself, or that you may have to leave the team you love, so you focus on what you do know. "I thought the bureau was proud of the fact that they stole her from Scotland Yard."

"I don't know," he shrugs, glancing back at her. "Politics here are different."

***

After finishing up at the crime scene, the whole team heads to the hotel to get some rest for the night. You feel more alert than you usually do after a long day of building a profile, and you adjust your bag strap on your shoulder as you dig around the side pockets for your room key. You don't plan on going to bed for at least a few more hours, and you might as well use the time to work on the case, but you need your key if you're going to get any sleep at all.

When your fingers finally catch on the thin plastic card, you look up to see a familiar face that you've been seeing more often than not, as of late. "Wait, isn't that..."

JJ looks up with a start, and she doesn't look distracted for the first time all day. "Will."

He gets up from the lobby chair he was lounging in and approaches her. "Hey, I took a shot and flew to D.C., but when it didn't work, I figured a train ride to New York was only a few more hours."

"Detective." Hotch reaches out and shakes his hand, before glancing at you with a frown that says, Did you know he was coming?

You shake your head imperceptibly and turn back to Will as he looks longingly at JJ. "Look, I'm sorry for showing up like this. I know you're working, but I can't stand you being on this case and me not being near." He pauses for a beat. "Not with what's going on."

That makes you frown too.

Hotch echoes your thoughts. "Is there a problem?"

JJ takes a deep breath and turns around to face all of you. "I'm pregnant."

Oh my God.

"Oh, my God," Emily exclaims, pulling her into a hug, the first of you to regain her bearings after hearing the news. "JJ, congratulations."

"That's amazing, JJ," you grin, hugging her next.

You don't miss how stiff Hotch is as Will shakes his hand. "I've asked JJ to marry me."

"Will," JJ says tightly, a warning in her voice.

He chuckles. "Well, we're working out some kinks."

"We'll give you both some privacy." Hotch turns away from them, his face falling the moment she can't see him anymore. You know he's hurt that she didn't trust him with this information, but you're surprised by just how downtrodden he seems.

JJ rushes after him. "Hotch-"

"JJ, you could have told me," he says softly, his voice both confused and stung.

She looks down. "I know."

"Because I understand if you need to take some time."

"No," she shakes her head, without a look back. "I want to be here."

"Okay," he nods, not looking at any of you. "7:00 AM."

You try to catch his arm as he walks off, but he either ignores it, or he doesn't feel you reaching for him. You choose to believe it's the latter.

***

You all deliver the working profile to the police officers first thing the next morning. While you're explaining an alternate possibility, Garcia calls with an update that a possible unsub was caught on camera shooting someone on a subway platform at one of the intersections you suggested that your team patrol yesterday.

"We could have had that guy," you say, your voice fuming with anger as you turn to Kate with a glare you haven't used in ages.

She doesn't falter. "Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated."

"Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot."

She fixes you with a stare. "I had every available man on the street."

"And I suggested to you that you use this team." You can't believe that her decision to ignore your advice yesterday might have just cost someone else their life. You can see the rest of the team looking at you with some blend of concern or indignation on your behalf, but you don't care. You just need Hotch to back you up.

Instead he just looks at you. "L/N, second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now."

You're so angry, you can barely see straight. Emily reaches for your arm, but you shake her off. "Hotch, how are we supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them, if she won't let us do our job?"

"We're here to present a profile," he says simply, not quite meeting your eye. "That's what we need to do."

You gape at him, your back straightening as you get ready to stand your ground. You don't disagree on things like this often, but when you do, it's usually a civil conversation that gets resolved quickly. You've never felt this angry about his handling of a case before, but then again, he's never not had your back before. "We've got seven bodies, Hotch."

He looks at you then, and you can't discern anything from his expression. It's a blank slate that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's not your place to have this discussion."

"Screw you."

You spin around, shoving away Derek and Emily as they try to talk you down. You stalk past them and out of the field office, where the cool evening air fills your sinuses and clears your head for a moment of silence. You stand on the sidewalk for a few seconds, waiting, and when he doesn't follow you out, you just manage to convince yourself that you're not disappointed, but relieved.

***

You're sitting at the hotel bar when Rossi finally finds you. You only ordered a lemon water, still feeling like you're on the clock, even if there's a good chance Hotch won't let you back into the investigation.

"I know," you huff when he takes a seat beside you. "I was out of line."

"You got too emotionally involved," he says, turning to face you. "I know you and Hotch are friends, but that doesn't mean you get to be unprofessional."

You sigh, your body deflating as all the fight leaves you. "I just felt like he was taking her side. Like he didn't have my back."

"There are no sides here."

You nod. "I know."

"And he does have your back." You look at him then, and he flashes you a small smile. "That man will always have your back. Right now, he's just worried about how Kate is holding up, with the word on the street."

That surprises you. "You know about the promotion?"

He nods. "People talk. But if she were to get fired, it would be because we didn't solve this case."

You frown, lifting your hand in defense. "Rossi, I hope you're not saying you think I want her to fail."

"Of course not," he shakes his head. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I lost my head for a second," you acknowledge, taking a sip of water. "I think I just needed a minute."

"And you got it," he says simply. "But right now, I see someone who wants to get back on the job. Or is there another reason why you ordered a glass of water at a bar?"

You set your glass down, letting out a surprised chuckle. "Where is everyone now?"

You both stand up, and he leads you out of the lobby. "Joyner took your advice. We're spreading out across the city."

***

"Emily, what happened?"

You rush forward to where she is standing over the dead body of a young man. Detective Cooper was taken in an ambulance to a nearby hospital after getting shot, and you only just arrived on the scene.

"He was strangely calm," she whispers as Derek and JJ come up behind her. "It's almost like suicide by cop."

"Why?" JJ thinks out loud. "Why would he do that?"

Derek looks at you. "We need to walk back through this profile."

Hundreds of thoughts are swirling through your brain, but based on the look on everyone's faces, you can tell they're thinking the same thing you are: terrorism.

After the crime scene officials arrive, you head over to your SUV to get back to the field office. Derek heads out to brief Homeland Security, and Reid leaves to talk to the Port Authority police, while Hotch and Kate call with the update that they will be going to speak with the mayor's office.

You start your SUV and pull out into the street when a loud explosion goes off a few streets behind you, the plume of smoke and fire large enough that you catch the high end of it in your rearview mirror.

You screech to a stop, just as your phone starts to ring.

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isagrimorie · 5 months ago

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I love this! This sketches out Prentiss's covert intelligence work more! In Evolution s17 Prentiss hinted she'd joined some military operations beyond her undercover work with Ian Doyle.

It's one of the subtle hints to Prentiss's true background -- she could fake the knowledge about the Middle East because she grew up traveling the world because of her mom's job as a diplomat. And, her cover story working a 'desk job' for 10 years could be that she was an analyst for the Counterterrorism unit of the FBI.

Instead of the reality that she used to work for CIA before she was chosen to join JTF-12 and from how she ambushed Doyle, she's had more tactical experience too.

I’m a huge fan of Emily’s big belt buckle, whether it be centred or off centre.

And I really love her chunky watch and how she wears it on the inside of her wrist.

The two of them together … god yes!

(I would love to know if the off centred belt and backwards wristwatch are wardrobe department decisions or just Paget quirks)

#character details #emily prentiss #emily the spy #tv: criminal minds

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isagrimorie · 5 months ago

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Parallels - Emily and Rossi conspiring

Criminal Minds 12x21 - Green Light | Criminal Minds Evolution 17x05 - Conspiracy vs Theory

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neysaadept · 5 days ago

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Prometheus Chapter 14

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 14 - Hold Space

Tags: Swearing, panic attack, drinking, mentions of past sexual abuse and alcoholic parent. No beta reader, mistakes are all me. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 7.2k

AO3

The team landed back in D.C. early Sunday night and you all scattered back to the comforts of your own homes. It was an exhausting time in New Mexico, but the team was thankful for a positive outcome before the unsub, Gabriel Arellano, targeted another victim. Of course, JJ, Lewis, and Alvez were not tired enough to interrogate you all about chasing the unsub down for an arrest. They were riveted to your animated tale with Rossi chiming in about how he was quite alive and healthy despite Garcia’s concerns. Prentiss occasionally added in details when appropriate and without the chip on her shoulder she’s been carrying around for over a week. No one is entirely sure how things were patched up between the two of you, only Rossi sharing with the others that the talk you and Prentiss had at the crime scene went well.

No one knows just how well and the two of you are planning on keeping it that way. You both have people that care about you a lot that have pushed you in this direction, but taking this next step together would remain between the two of you until you were both comfortable informing the team, your brothers and sister, and Brian. Most importantly, you both wanted to see how this went without extra drama. The two of you were perfectly capable of doing that together without any help.

For now, Sunday night was enjoying a bottle of Stella as you pulled out ingredients to make dinner grabbing, salt, pepper, oil, butter, and some thyme to go with the steak you picked up at the Safeway Grocery store that was within walking distance. Once Prentiss approved of you being out in the field, you learned quickly to keep essentials at home and fill in perishable items as needed or pack them in the freezer.

Everything was neatly lined up on the counter with the ribeye resting in the package while you were trimming the green beans with the chef’s knife. You set it aside to use your hand to sweep the ends into the other when a chime went off on your phone.

You dump the remains into the compost bin, wash your hands and dry them off with the kitchen towel you throw over your shoulder and see who it is.

Overlord sent 2034: You free Friday night after work?

You laugh, realizing you’re going to have to change Emily’s name again. For now, you keep it because it’s too funny to see her name like this.

Whitlock sent 2036: I guess it depends if the bad guys do not make plans for me?

Whitlock sent 2036: And if my boss isn’t going to be a bitch again.

Whitlock sent 2036: 😉

Overlord sent 2036: I said I was sorry!

Overlord sent 2039: Oh. You were joking.

Whitlock sent 2041: I suppose my brilliance does not translate well over text for you yet. Your profiling skills are limited now. Oh darn. 🤔

Overlord sent 2042: You’re a lot more confident over text then you were in NM. Memory serves, you could barely look at me.

“Ugh,” you half groan and laugh at that before leaning against the counter. She had you there. Text was easier to be silly and flirty since you didn’t have to stare into intense brown orbs that radiate confidence that actually made you feel giddy - not pretend play with a mark who looked similarly at you.

That made you look up curiously at admitting that to yourself.

You didn’t have to pretend.

You acknowledge Prentiss was attractive early on with her natural silver-grey hair and facial lines that held emotional history as much as linear. She cut a gorgeous figure in her work clothes and she’s a handful of people that weren’t placating you that she understood where you were coming from. Because she did, to an extent, and would know where to end it and be empathetic. It was naturally easy for you to be open with her because she was a CIA spy, your current role until you joined the BAU. The gritty reality of what that means instead of the glorified action and adventure movies and shows make it out to be, or even the ones that try to emulate the truth still never nail it down. You really have to be staring at life and death at all times while being in character or you’re dead. All of characters you play at forces you to kill a part of yourself and hide it.

But there were also the parts that weren’t so grim that made you adore her. You always loved how Emily’s face lit up when she laughed and how her nose scrunched when she was cheeky. Or how she licks her lips in thought, a seemingly subconscious habit that didn’t have a pattern that you noticed. And yes, you tried figuring it out. You only surmised it wasn’t due to dry lips because Emily’s lips never looked that way. And yes, you looked at her lips a lot and wondered what it would feel like to kiss them.

Your thoughts were disturbed by a chime, and you look down at your phone.

Overlord sent 2048: Did I scare you off already? 😉

You brightly grin reading that. This was the Emily that you slowly allowed into your life and its numerous secrets that you barely scratched the surface with her. Your mind starts wandering down a scary road of what ifs again, but you swallow down your fears for now. You can worry about logistics after figuring out if you and Emily actually worked.

Whitlock sent 2050: Nope.

Overlord sent 2050: All I get is a nope?

Whitlock sent 2051: Yep! Hah.

Overlord sent 2051: Ha ha. Then how about an answer to my question. You like avoiding them.

Whitlock sent 2054: Yes, I’m free Friday. Unless Brian calls me for something. Which is not likely.

Whitlock sent 2054: And this is a for real CIA call in and not made up before you say ANYTHING

Overlord sent 2055: Wouldn’t dream of it. See you tomorrow?

This baffles you because of course you’re seeing her tomorrow. Why would Emily say something so pedestrian?

Then you smack your forehead. “Fucking idiot,” you mutter to yourself. She was ending the communication politely because it was getting late.

Whitlock sent 2057: You know it. Now off to my date with a steak.

You look at your text and decide to add a little more, realizing you didn’t want to end the conversation so soon.

Whitlock sent 2058: What’s for dinner on your end?

And then your phone rings. It’s Overlord’s name staring back at you. You pick it up and answer perplexedly. “Uh … hi?”

“Hello to you, too. And to answer your questions.”

Your eyes narrow because you only had one question, not multiple to warrant a plural.

“Based on the menus currently on my table, Chinese or pizza. And I called because I felt it was not only quicker to talk this way, I wanted to hear your voice instead.”

If you could melt, you’d be a puddle on the floor with how sweet that is. “Maybe your profiling skills are better over text than I thought.”

“Hm. And why’s that?” she asks with her voice dropping an octave lower, making your shiver.

“Uh … cuz I kinda didn’t want our conversation to end just yet,” you admit with such ease that surprises you.

“Mm. Me too. I just wanted to be polite since it’s late after a long case.”

You can hear her smiling into the phone as her voice goes back to its usual cadence. And fuck it all, you’re smiling like a fool too knowing you both felt the same. “Yeah?”

That’s all you have to say because you are dumbstruck with her honesty. You hear her chuckle softly and say your name. “Yes.”

“Well, to be fair. You need to eat and take out’s gonna be at least an hour if you don’t get on that soon. I don’t want you starving.” You pull the phone back and put her on speaker to free up your hands to work on dinner. You grab the green beans you trimmed and bring them over to the sink where the strainer is waiting for them. You turn on the water and start rinsing. Normally you’d soak them overnight, but you weren’t waking your ass up that early to cook. “You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“What’re you doing?” she asks and then a sense of concern bubbles forth that you can’t control.

“Wait. Are you at the office?” you say, partly accusing.

“No. I’m actually home.”

“I’m glad to hear that despite Armageddon coming.”

“Funny.” Her tone is sarcastic and amused. “But what’re you doing? I hear the water going.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve deduced you’re on speaker.”

“Indeed.”

“Kinda need both hands to cook.”

“Wait. You’re cooking?” she can’t hide her shock, and it makes you frown.

“Why is that so surprising?” you ask, taking the green beans from the strainer to the pan waiting for them. It wasn’t hot yet, unlike the steak pan that you wanted smoking hot.

“Well, I suppose it isn’t. I just didn’t know you can cook.”

You hum thoughtfully and take the ribeye out of the wrappings and place it on the cutting board to trim. It was a lot for one person, but you were making a few meals out of this for work, too. “We don’t know a lot about each other yet so everything's going to be new, and maybe a surprise because of preconceived notions. For instance, can you cook?”

She laughs. “A little ... well, no. Not really. I know some basics and a couple of dishes Dave’s taught me. But left to my own devices? I’ll just burn everything.”

You chuckle. “And now I know why you live on takeout.”

“Unfortunately.” She pauses there as you set aside your knife once satisfied with how the steak looks. You then season with salt and pepper and flip the steak over with a soft thunk to generously prepare the other side, too. The silence was quite comfortable, and you imagine that Emily was picturing what you were doing based on sounds alone.

“Well, maybe if things go well, I can not only feed you properly, but I can also teach you how to cook,” you say offhandedly.

“Or you could feed me properly now.”

Emily boldness stops you in mid salting. “Uh …”

You can hear how smug she is at making you lose your words. “It’s merely a suggestion, honey.”

Now your eyes widen with the pet name that had only been used playfully as co-workers. This was definitely an escalation of its use here as Emily’s voice held a soft purr at the end of the word. Would this be a good idea right now to entertain Emily at your apartment, or should you both wait for a proper date? Though was anything about your life proper? That is a resounding no. Your life became a fucked up story since your dad first put his hands on you and your mother ignored it all with booze.

Fuck it. You return back to seasoning the steak and go digging for more information. “And why are you offering said suggestion besides you being hungry.”

“Truthfully?”

“The only kind I like right now when it comes to us,” you declare with raw honesty.

“Well, we can wait until Friday if you’re more comfortable with that, but I’d like to try and spend more quality time with you to make up for all the bullshit that I put you through this past week. I can’t change what I did, but if you’re open for it, I’d just really like to see you again that isn’t involving work.”

Warmth spreads through your heart and you can’t stop your mouth from answering positively. “Then come over.”

You surmise it takes Emily by surprise how quickly you agree as she has to take a few seconds to respond. Her voice is tentative. “Are you sure?”

You lean over the counter and nod to yourself, physically making sure you truly are okay with this. “I am. I’ve got enough food for two, and then some. Just won’t have as much leftovers for work now, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for you.”

She chuckles. “Only if you’re sure …”

You smile. “I am.”

“Then I’ll be over shortly. Say twenty minutes?”

You open your eyes and remember how close Emily lives to you. “Uh …” You wince, utterly annoyed that this woman can render you stupid with an inability to speak properly.

“Is that too soon?” she asks cautiously. Perhaps Emily was reconsidering based on your reaction.

“No!” You slam your eyes shut with how desperate you sound. “I mean. That’s fine. Dinner should be ready then.”

“Are you sure this okay with you? If it isn’t, I’m fine with delaying this until the weekend.”

Emily is very thoughtful and the affection that you have for her overtakes the nervousness you feel. “Yes, it is. Really. Just, can we … uh … just, ya know? Keep this chill? Don’t go crazy with it being a date. Though I guess it kinda is. I mean, maybe a … pre-date.”

What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?

“I’ll come as is.”

Thankfully Emily doesn’t think anything is wrong with you. “Well, don’t come barefoot. You need shoes or something.”

She chuckles. “See you soon.”

After you hang up with Emily, you focus on making dinner. You’ve done this dish countless times, but this is the first time making it for someone you want to impress, not needing to. You cover the beans and set it to simmer and put the steak in the over to finish off before setting the table. You keep it simple and set it like you would eat but for two with the added salt and pepper shakers in case Emily needs them. You do opt for wine glasses and wait for her to arrive so she can pick out what you have on hand, which is limited since you weren’t the big wine drinker like Emily.

And then you realize you should have asked Emily to bring a bottle she liked. “Dumbass,” you mutter, while staring down at the square table set for two just as there was a knock at the door.

Your head snaps up in that direction and you close your eyes to take a deep breath. When you open your eyes, you take one last look at yourself, still wearing your CIA shirt, black sweats and bare feet. You wiggle your toes nervously and consider putting on socks, but you asked Emily to come casual and you should, too.

Walking to the door, you’re telling yourself not to be nervous and when you confirm through the peephole that it’s Emily, that plan goes out the window. She completed the assignment as coming as is and ended up way over dressed than you since she was still in her work clothes. They were wrinkled from wear, so there’s that, and she had her hair pulled back in a messy bun with a few strands left flowing around her face. You smile and laugh wordlessly seeing that she wore a pair of sneakers and carries a bottle of wine.

Knowing you can work with this; your nerves calm some as you open the door. “Right on time,” you announce with a smile that she immediately matches.

Her eyes absorb every detail of yours and you feel naked under her penetrating gaze. With a small purse of her lips, she holds up a bottle of cabernet. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Actually, I was feeling really dumb for not telling you to bring something,” you admit while stepping aside. “Come on in.” When you close the door, you point to the kitchen counter. “You can put it there.”

“It smells amazing in here,” Emily says while scanning the kitchen for the source of the delicious smells. She does see a covered pan on the stove and a breadbasket next to the bottle she set down. She could feel the warmth coming from the sliced-up baguette and smiles at the added touch.

“Let me get your coat.” You approach Emily from behind and take the long black coat by the collar as she adjusts her arms to assist you.

“Thanks.” She tucks her hands into pants pockets and watches you hang up her coat in the hallway closet. You’re hiding it well, but she can tell you’re nervous by how thoughtfully precise you were in smoothing out her coat and making extra space for it when you hung it up. You purposefully left gaps on either side of it so nothing would touch it.

“Want me to pour the wine?” She’s hoping the light conversation will make this more familiar and comfortable.

“Uh, sure. Corkscrew’s in the drawer on the right next to the sink.”

She works taking off the foil as you come padding back into the kitchen like you owned it. Your moves were comfortable, dare say adept, at opening the oven and taking out the pan that was heating in there with a plain oven mitt. She couldn’t help an adoring smile that graces her lips as you kick the oven close with a bare foot.

You’re ignorant of Emily’s gaze but hear her rummaging through the drawer for the corkscrew as you test the steak. You nod, liking the feel for a medium rare, toss the kitchen towel over your shoulder and let it rest. Your focus was putting the green beans in a serving bowl you have never used but this is the first time entertaining someone at this location.

When you turn around, Emily’s pouring the wine, and you take that moment for a silent breath. You grab the breadbasket along the way to the table. You didn’t get a good look at the bottle, but it looks fancy. “What did you bring?”

“A Chateau Palmer Bordeaux.” She rattles it off so casually like the bottle doesn’t go for several hundred dollars.

“There was a memo about keeping this chill.”

“And why isn’t this chill?” There is confusion in her voice as Emily sets the bottle down. “This goes well with steak.”

Your fingers rub at your forehead, eyes squinting in bewilderment. “Because that company only makes bottles that are the cheapest at a hundred bucks.”

Her eyebrows raise with puzzlement. “And?”

“That’s way too much on a chill dinner …” You bring your hand down and gesture wildly at the space between the two of you. “…thing. This dinner thing we’re having.”

With a silent oh, she approaches you and takes your hands in hers. Her thumbs press firmly against the top of your hands and start to rub circles once you don’t back away from the closeness. “I wanted to bring it. Consider it a gift since you’re gifting me with an actual home cooked meal.”

She tests the waters further and takes a step forward, causing your joined hands to rise upwards between the two of you. You bring your eyes up and gaze into serene ones. Emily’s posture was calm and inviting, her lips parting in a slight smile. There was nothing for you to fear and you feel your body lose some of its tension and squeeze her hands back. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

Her voice is soft and gently wants to confirm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod and her eyes sparkle with affection.

“Good.” Emily takes it a step further and leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. Your body experiences warmth throughout from the gentle display that felt natural between the two of you. You feel the brush of her nose graze along your cheek for just a moment before she was back searching your eyes for any discomfort. Seeing none, she coyly drops her head towards the table. “Shall we eat then?”

You eagerly nod. “Yeah. Take a seat and I’ll be right there.”

The two of you share a smile and a lingering touch of fingers taking their time to unwind from one another so you could get back to the kitchen. With renewed purpose, you take the butter near the stove that you placed there to help soften it up and put it on the island counter so it wouldn’t start to melt. Then you focus on slicing the meat and grin proudly that the juices remain intact from resting. You slide the knife under the strips to plate and bring everything over to Emily, who was sitting and enjoying a sip of the wine.

Her eyes light up, impressed with your skills, and compliments. “Are you sure I’m not at a Michelin Star restaurant? This looks steak house quality.”

You blush as you put everything down on the table. “Thanks. I got bored a lot on assignments. And when I could,” you then take the seat across from Emily and shrug, “I learned how to cook.”

“A worthwhile skill to master.” She eagerly brings her hands up but then slowly curls them closed. “Ah …”

Her eyes are questioning, and you chuckle, making your nervously bouncing leg stop so you can gesture over the food. “Please!’

As Emily fills her plate, you follow soon after, until you have both forks and steak knives ready in hand. You wait on digging in as you want to see Emily’s response to your cooking firsthand and closely observe her cutting off a piece of steak and begin to bring it to her mouth.

You’re feeling confident and wanting to tease her, so you bring up your steak knife and point it at her with an impish grin and teasing eyes before she could get the morsel into her mouth. “You dare ask for steak sauce; I’m kicking you outta here.”

Her mouth clamps shut before nodding once quickly. “Noted.”

You observed one another – Emily noticing how your lips were trying to remain even, though the edges were twitching in anticipation, and you seeing how delighted she was by this with the softest hint of her eyes narrowing. And damn it, you couldn’t help slowly leaning over the table in time with her fork.

Her eyes widened with approval as the first taste of flavor hits her senses. “Oh my god” She blinks several times in awe while moaning appreciatively. “This is so fucking good.”

You are overwhelmingly happy by Emily’s response and your face lights up with a radiant smile. Did you ever feel genuinely happy like this in your life? You’re having trouble matching this emotion to anything else that was considered good in your experience but come up short. To add to the moment, Emily winks at you and adds. “Putting steak sauce on this would be an atrocity. So, I guess I can stay, huh?”

You look away and lightly rub your tongue behind your lower lip modestly. When you look up, Emily was still enjoying the first bite and cutting the next while looking at you coyly. “Yeah,” you chuckle. “I guess you can stay.”

The two of you share a warm smile and as you start cutting your steak, you begin to realize that this wasn’t so difficult. It was just like sharing a meal in Emily’s office, the two of you being playful and chatting it up as usual, minus the pretense that the two of you actually felt something more heightened than friendship.

You’re starving from a long flight and barely eaten anything besides jet food and an apple that you munched on while walking home from the store. With the gusto that Emily is attacking her plate, you figure she was equally as hungry. The first strips of steak and handful of beans disappeared without a word spoken and finally Emily considers you while sipping her wine. The hairs on the back of your neck rise with dread.

The time for small talk during a date has arrived.

In your panic, you remind yourself that this is just you and Emily talking. You’ve done this many a time before. Be cool.

Emily swirls the wine in her glass as she regards you. “Is it possible to revisit a question I once had but you couldn’t answer?”

“Uh, which one? You got quite a few of those,” you laugh, that simple act helping your body to relax against the chair with bread in hand.

You take a bite of it when Emily chuckles too. “Well, I was thinking since I’m sitting here with you now when few know where you are … if you can now tell me how you joined the CIA?” She asked her question quite thoughtfully by how slowly she asked it. This had been a source of contention between you and Emily wanted to avoid yet another misunderstanding.

“Hm.” Your brows furrow as you finish chewing your food. Can you? Should you? Will you even be able to verbalize all the shit you’ve been through without scaring her off?

Charlie said Emily wouldn’t be so easily frightened but there’s no way of knowing how she’d react. Not until you take that dive. Take that chance.

“Hm is more of an answer than I got last time,” Emily teases gently.

That makes you laugh. “True. It’s more logistics now. You do have some sense of clearance now. How much tho?”

Her brows raise up in wonder. “I’m not entirely sure. It was only on a verbal okay versus anything on paper.”

“Ah. Fair enough.” You sit up to angle your hand into your pocket to pull out your phone.

“What’re you doing?”

“Texting Brian.”

“… for?” She’s on alert and sets her glass down.

Whitlock sent 2147: Hey, how much clearance did you give Emily?

You place the phone down on the table face up. ”To see how much I can tell ya.”

“Oh, shit. That’s unnecessary, really.” She taps a fingernail on the side of the wine glass. “You’re under no obligation to share. I’m sure Korogoth’s got better things to do anyway.”

Your phone buzzes but you don’t look at it yet. You’re focusing on Emily. “You’ll see that Brian makes time for me or as soon as he can if he’s busy. But really, Emily?” You wait it out until she looks at you and you give her a promising smile with the next words you declare to her. “I also want to tell you.”

You hear her softly gasp as you pick up the phone to read Brian’s message.

Dad sent 2150: Oh, it’s Emily now?

You roll your eyes as you respond back, which piques Emily’s curiosity. “What did he say?’

Whitlock sent 2155: You going to answer the question or not?

“Nothing. Just being an ass,” you grunt in response.

She shakes her head, tongue in cheek. “Wow. Never thought I’d be around someone who casually calls the director of the CIA an ass.”

Your mischievous eyes catch mirthful brown ones. “Be around me long enough and you’ll be hearing a lot more colorful adjectives describing him.”

Emily throws her head back with laughter and it makes your heart sing with joy. Then you scowl at seeing the message from Brian.

Dad sent 2156: What’s her question.

Whitlock sent 2156: How I joined the CIA.

Emily silently studies your face as she sips. She can tell you are taking this very seriously with your focus being on the conversation you’re having with Korogoth.

Dad sent 2158: She doesn’t need to know.

Fuck, that’s the usual answer given but he won’t be expecting your next response.

Whitlock sent 2159: I want her to know.

You stare at the screen for a minute, but nothing comes. Your teeth clench together in disappointment at the lack of response and pick up your fork. Sensing the answer to her own question, Emily offers a sympathetic smile. “It’s alright. There’s other things we can talk about.”

But your phone goes off again and you use your left hand to get the message. Emily takes the moment to pick up a green bean by hand to nibble on.

Dad sent 2204: And now I know why she is Emily now. Go for it.

“Huh.” You can’t help but slip out your surprise.

“Is everything okay?” Emily tentatively asks while rolling another green bean in hand.

“Uh, yeah.”

Whitlock sent 2205: Thanks Brian. Really.

“Said I could talk to you about it.” You take a moment to mentally prepare yourself for this conversation. It’s one you haven’t had to speak of in a couple decades.

Dad sent 2205: Stop talking to me and go talk to her! I want no more communication from you until then!

“Oh my god!” You start giggling and without thinking, show Emily the last text from Brian. “I think he approves.”

“What?” She squints to read it and then blanches. “You … you didn’t tell him we were seeing each other, did you?”

“No!” You’re still laughing. “He figured it out just now.”

“And you have him in as dad?!” She can’t hide the astonishment from her voice as she points to the contact name.

Do you, or don’t you reveal another special name?

You nod, because you do, though Emily took the nod as a reaction to her own response at you calling the CIA director dad in your phone.

You waggle your brows. “Wanna see my favorite contact name?”

She shrewdly assesses your roguish grin and eyes that sparkle with a hidden agenda. “I’m gonna regret this aren’t I?”

You bring the phone back and close the text with Brian and bring up Emily’s details. “Maybe. But to be fair, I do need to update it again.”

Emily cants her head to the side with concern. “Again?”

“Yeah. I had to change it back to this,” you hold the phone up facing her once again and right there in bold letters shows the name Overlord Prentiss, “but you know, my boss was kinda being a dick to me.”

Emily humbles with soft, widening eyes, and a long face as she digests this information. “Um …” Her head dips forward as if she swallowed something bad and licks her lips. “… how long have you had this nickname for me?”

“After the first frosty encounter.”

“So, day one.”

“Yep.” You bring the phone back to edit her name. “After drinks at Buddy’s, I did change it.”

Emily opens her mouth with understanding. “Then the fight after Hayden happened.”

“Aye.” You show her the updated name with a smile. “Better?”

It now said Silver Fox.

Her eyes narrow with approval, a slight smirk starting to form as she catches your gaze and when she speaks, her voice drops lower and becomes slightly raspy. “Well, I certainly like that one better. A lot better …”

Your cheeks flush, cursing your body’s response, but soon you’re craning your neck to see why Prentiss was taking out her phone. She only offers a flirtatious smirk as she scrolls and types out something before presenting the screen to you.

Your name has become Hot Rod in her contacts, and you immediately laugh with delight. “Oh my god, I love it!”

And you truly do as the shyness that had overtaken you is replaced with that familiar affection that had been growing for some time. Your eyes soften and you start to reach over the table to take her hand without thinking but force it to stop as this was all new to you. Are you supposed to do this when you have true feelings for someone and not seducing someone to your will? What is normal in these situations?

Emily sees your hesitation and closes the distance with her free hand and immediately your fingers lace together. Her flirtatious demeanor has tempered into a shared moment of understanding that this was more than a casual dinner after all. It had become another apology from Emily and confirmation that the feelings you have burgeoning between the two of you are more than just physical.

Your heart races as you see Emily’s brown eyes grow intensely warm with soft brows arching upwards. You squeeze her hand, clinging to the moment and then your phone goes off again. You feel your eyes brimming with wetness from the emotions that were foreign to the chemical makeup inside your brain.

You force a swallow, and your mouth opens with an apology. “Sorry. I … uh, I need, to uh, need to get that.”

Emily holds onto your hand. “Can’t it wait?”

She was distracted by the intimacy that it didn’t register that the notification was from a different phone. You shake your head sadly. “It’s the burner phone.”

“Fucking Sicarius.” She hisses and reluctantly releases your hand before smoothing out her features in order to focus.

You rise with purpose and are all business as you approach the living room table to pick up the burner phone. It’s the number you gave Sicarius to contact you. If he tried to run a search on the number, he would learn nothing except you cover your tracks like he does. You unlock the phone and read the message.

+18042876389 sent 2241: Tomorrow 12pm EST

“We’re on for tomorrow at noon.” You explain and type a simple response back.

+18318269346 sent 2245: Confirmed

“I’m letting Garcia know.” You look up and see Emily on her phone and note the warmth of her voice had become clipped and informal.

“Should we have the whole team present?”

She looks up thoughtfully. “Are you comfortable with the audience?”

“Doesn’t bother me in the least,” you answer truthfully. You had far bigger groups witnessing you pretend play on a call. “Garcia’s gonna run the call so everyone hears, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then more profiling ears the better.” You look down at the phone and know there will be no further communication tonight, so you lock it down and place it back on the table.

Agreeing with your assessment, Emily brings up her calendar and schedules a meeting first thing in the morning with the entire team to brief everyone on this project you, her, and Penelope have been working on. She attaches a file that goes over the synopsis of this undercover operation, including the backstory that was created for you. Garcia has already responded back that she’ll have everything ready for the 12pm call and for the briefing.

You slide back onto the chair at the dinner table and notice you have a notification of a new event at work. You look up at Emily, who was still busy organizing the logistics of what that simple text meant for the BAU. It was a tremendous lead. It also meant you were now in serious danger if things went sideways like it did for Green. But unlike him, you were driven by the mission, not a vendetta. You know how to remain cautious like with any shift into undercover work and will remain true to character. It got you this far in life and in your career. Now it would assist the BAU in apprehending a serial killer.

“Decided it should be a viewing party for the whole crew?” You mention casually while grabbing another piece of bread.

She hums in agreement. “Makes sense having everyone there.” Emily sets her phone down with a sigh before running the palms of her hands over her face, the loose strands of her bun following with her. She was visibly irritated by how the mood was interrupted, not necessarily that it was.

“Sucks.” Your voice is gruff as you speak which makes Emily look over at you with confusion. “First date ever and a fucking psycho had to ruin it.” You end it with a humorless smirk.

She ended up laughing which parted the gloomy cloud that had overtaken the mood. “Gotta love the timing of these things in our line of work.” She sighs in resignation over at you. “It’s close to midnight and there’s a lot to do tomorrow.”

In other words, Emily was politely excusing herself for home.

“Counter point to what you’re gonna say.” Your body is taking over your mouth despite your mind telling you to shut the fuck up, but Emily doesn’t dispute what you mean and gazes at you inquisitively as the silent invitation to continue this proposal. “Well,” you start and then jut your jaw out nervously. “You could just stay …”

Your uncertainty makes her eyes widen. “Stay?”

“Yeah. Cuz uh, you, uh, don’t live far and if you stay, we can kinda pick up talking and stuff.” You visibly wince. God you suck at this. How did you do this convincingly with marks?

“Stuff?” Emily teases with a brow smoothing out as the other turns coy.

And now your cheeks are burning with the nebulous definition of stuff. Your words come quickly, riddled with anxiety. “You know.”

She shakes her head no with that smug flirtatious smirk never leaving Emily’s face.

“You, you brought the wine. Expensive wine that we, uh, you know, didn’t drink much of. And I’m willing to bet Brian gave you a parking pass so you didn’t have to drive around all over the fucking place to find one.”

Now Emily was holding her head up by the chin with a resting elbow, finding your ramblings attractively adorable. “Indeed, he did.”

“So, yeah.” You hand finds purchase on the wine stem, so you have something to hold onto as a way to ground your thoughts. It really doesn’t help. “You live close. Can just go back to your place in the morning to change. Since, driving after that much wine isn’t a good idea.”

She shakes her head in agreement. “No, it is not.”

“But … to be … clear.” Your eyes catch her playful ones but yours reflect a hint of fear. “Guest room for now. I mean, it’s just our first time doing this and I haven’t done this ...ever. And I’m starting to wonder what the ever-loving fuck I’m doing and why aren’t you fucking saying anything because I’m rambling …. Which is why you’re not saying anything. Fuck.”

Your breathing is quick and shallow and now you’re on the verge of a full-on panic attack. The grip on the wine glass becomes forceful and you wonder if it’ll snap because you probably just ruined whatever was happening between the two of you. Why did you listen to fucking Charlie?

However, it is not with pity or ridicule or even disgust that Emily looks at you.

It was sympathy and care. Emily wasn’t judging you at all and she surprises you further when she rises and comes to your side of the table with an open hand. She gestures for you to take it, not forcing anything and simply gazes down at you and gently speaks. “Come here.”

You look dubiously from Emily’s face to her hand and then back up again, not moving from your spot. Emily’s smile is tender as she tries again. “Please.”

Well fuck it. How can you say no to that. Well, you can and if you did, you just know Emily would respect that, but the part of you craving the simplest of intimacies with her that only blossomed from the chaste kiss against your cheek, wanted to reach out and take a chance. It was why you said yes to going out with her after stopping Emily from running off with the misinterpretation of your words. You have a feeling Emily was beginning to understand how difficult this was for you to be clear with intent. So now, she offers a chance to calm your spiraling thoughts.

You take her hand, and with it, you place trust in this woman not to hurt you. Because you know that this meant you were all in if she was, which is why you desperately need to talk. Why you want Emily to stay because if she leaves now, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to talk about the simplest, yet complicated, manner in how you joined the CIA.

Sensing you weren’t going to move; Emily gently tugs your hand to motivate you into standing up. You were expecting Emily to say something at first, but you are surprised that she pulls you into a hug instead. You are stiff, unaccustomed to this level of intimacy in a long time that was not initiated by you. Her free hand slips around your waist as she steps into your personal space while letting go of your hand so she can slide her fingers along your shoulder and then neck. In the next breath that was taken by you, you’re fully pressed against one another and Emily’s cheek glides against your own as she leans in further.

Your eyes are blinking back tears, your body overwhelmed with connection that you honestly can’t remember the last time you had it felt this visceral. You begin trembling and Emily reassures you with a gentle promise. “I’ve got you.”

Immediately your hands curl under Emily’s arms and fiercely grip her shoulders while burying your face against the crook of her neck. You inhale the lingering scent of cigarettes and citrus. You couldn’t distinguish if it was the perfume or hair products she wore, but it was a heady sensation that made you grip Emily tighter for continued comfort. Her nails gently scratch at the back of your neck and graze upwards, tangling into your hair. You have no idea how long you held each other, and it was no surprise that Emily stirred first. Her nose nuzzles into your hair before her lips replace it. The pattern continues – nuzzles and soft kisses that coax you from your hiding spot against her neck until your eyes met.

Your chest clenches under Emily’s warm gaze, her dilating eyes searching yours intently. Whatever she was looking for must have been confirmed because she was soon closing the distance between you further, allowing enough time for you to pull away if you were unsure. But you didn’t pull away. No. You wait until you felt the brush of Emily’s soft lips against your own before closing your eyes. You felt unmoored from reality but what was different than all the other times you found yourself in this unwanted position with others, is that your mind didn’t dissociate on instinct to protect itself. You stay in the moment, tasting the wine on her lips and how they’re firm against yours, not forceful, and feel a gentle sigh escaping Emily’s nose as the air brushes against your face.

This was your first real kiss, and it was perfection.

You respond just as gently and after a moment, Emily pulls back leaving the kiss soft and brief but not letting you go just yet. She brings your forehead to hers, keeping you both connected, and you know her eyes are closed just like yours, not ready to relinquish the intimacy.

“I’d love to stay. Like you asked.” She acknowledges not only your wish but your boundaries as well.

“Yeah?” you ask again but it was with breathless excitement.

You can feel her smiling by how her forehead pinches against yours. “Yeah.”

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :)

@unkonw00 @ara-a-bird @rayisaknight @sevyscoven @maybe-a-humanbean @unoreverselu @fluffypalmtree @willow-nox @simplylove-c @piiinco @daffodil-heart @unexpected-character @reneerappismywife

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds evolution #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily x reader #emily x you #criminal minds x reader #prometheus #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

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roseekara · 5 months ago

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While also, a few minutes before, accusing her of never trusting anybody, and saying she can trust him, like what the hell, fuck you. She was right, and you just proved her that.

'She is awfully comfortable', yeah dude no shit. She was a fucking spy. That means she is good at her job, otherwise, she would get killed. Duh. 😒🙄🙄

The line “all we do know is she slept with a terrorist for a profile” grinds my fucking gears because Morgan is such a good character and I understand that was just some of his trauma poking through (along with some misogyny of course) but man fuck you Emily was willing to die to protect you and the whole team, but no you’re too focused on how she did her job instead of the fact that she just did it. He has so much negative bs to spew while the rest of the team is genuinely trying to help and he’s just being a petulant child throwing a tantrum because she kept something from him. Like I have a visceral reaction every time I hear that line it just makes me so mad! Even excellent men like Derek Morgan still have their flaws when it comes to how they view women, even the women they love!

#i never fully forgave him after that #like wtf.#misogyny fr #she was a spy and you expect her to be tense and be a cop?#the brain ain't braining #criminal minds #emily prentiss #derek morgan #criminal minds rant

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ex-t3rr3strial · 2 months ago

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Just had a thought…

What if I write a Emily Prentiss x reader/oc AU fic, where Emily Prentiss is an organized crime boss in the 1940s or something and reader/oc is her lover/the person sent to spy on Emily???

(I got this idea from this picture of PB)

#wlw #criminal minds #emily prentiss #paget brewster #emily prentiss x reader #lesbian #romance #1940s #vintage lesbians

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rainynvght · 5 months ago

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If Emily Prentiss had a daughter

Bedtime Stories: Emily would read her daughter stories every night, but she’d pick books with strong female characters or tales that teach resilience, courage, and kindness.

Bedtime Stories Part 2: When reading bedtime stories, Emily would use all kinds of silly voices for the characters, making her daughter giggle uncontrollably. Sometimes, they’d make up their own stories, with her daughter adding wild plot twists and Emily going along with it, no matter how crazy it gets.

Teaching her different languages: She would start teaching her daughter different languages from a young age. They’d have fun “secret” conversations in French or Italian that only they could understand, making her daughter feel special and worldly.

Movie Nights: Their movie nights wouldn’t just be about watching films; Emily would turn them into themed events. If they were watching a spy movie, they’d dress up in black and play “secret agents” before the movie started. If it’s a baking competition show, they’d make their own treats to eat while watching.

Mother-Daughter Spa Days: They’d have regular “spa days” at home, where they’d paint each other’s nails, do face masks, and relax with herbal tea. It’s a special way for them to unwind and bond, and Emily would use this time to talk about self-care and the importance of taking care of one’s mental and physical health.

Balance of Freedom and Guidance: Emily would be the type of mom who gives her daughter the freedom to make her own choices, but she’d always be there to guide her when needed. She’d trust her daughter to be independent, but would also be ready to step in with advice or support whenever her daughter needed it.

Adventures in the Kitchen: Emily and her daughter would love to cook together, trying out new recipes and experimenting with different cuisines. It's safe to say that, by the time her daughter turns seven years old, she would outdo her mom in terms of cooking.

Protective Mom: Emily, who has experienced the evil of the world due to her work, would be very protective, sometimes even a little to over-protective. She would worry about her girl at all times, making sure to contact her every few hours, even when on a harsh case. Her little girl is her entire world.

Matching outfits: On special days, like birthdays or just because they feel like it, Emily and her daughter would wear matching outfits. Whether it’s matching pajamas for a cozy movie night or similar scarves on a chilly day, they’d have fun being twinning buddies.

Little lunchbox notes: Every morning, Emily would leave a tiny note in her daughter’s lunchbox or backpack with a sweet message like, “You’re going to rock today!” or “Can’t wait to hear about your day!” It’s a little boost of love that her daughter would look forward to every day.

Secret Handshake: Emily and her daughter would have a secret handshake that they’d do whenever they needed a little boost of confidence.

First Snow Tradition: The first snowfall of the year would be a special occasion in the Prentiss household. Emily would bundle her daughter up, and they’d run outside to catch snowflakes on their tongues, make snow angels, and build the first snowman of the season together. Afterward, they’d warm up with hot cocoa and marshmallows.

#emily prentiss x child #emily prentiss x daughter!reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss headcanons #emily prentiss x child!reader

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storiesofsvu · 6 months ago

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Decadent Desires Ch 10

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, alcohol, semi public make out sessions, smut, threesome, fingering, oral, face sitting. Once y'all read this hopefully you'll see why it took 2 weeks to get done, a whopping almost 7k words. woof. im planning on starting the next chapter asap and focusing on this series as it is about to pick up and a shift is coming so that tends to keep my brain more into writing. Happy Friday! <3

After spending a handful of weeks exploring luxury hotels around the Washington area, Emily had sent you a text asking which one you liked the best. She had come to the conclusion that she wanted to put down a standing reservation at one location rather than continue to hop around across the city. You spent a bit of time reflecting on your experiences and finally replied with your favourite three, the Waldorf being at the utmost top. She couldn’t help but let out a laugh, one that was of slight relief as she had the exact opinions. It was just far enough away from her place to feel like a mini vacation, but still close enough to not be a hassle of a drive, the amenities were stellar, with the best food and late night menus. It didn’t hurt that it was the hotel the bureau usually held their big galas, meaning it would be more than easy enough to sneak away at any of those, or to simply have you waiting for her when she was done.

Overall, it just made things easier to have the standing reservation, you both had key cards and were graciously welcomed by concierge anytime throughout the week when you swung by. You were both able to come and go as you please instead of having to wait in the lobby or hotel bar for the other to arrive. While Emily was happy to leave things in the suite over the weekend, she was still a little bit apprehensive of leaving certain things when neither of you were there and her worries were solidified when you ran through a list of things that Heather would never leave in her suite. It may be permanently booked out, but it was a hotel, no matter how much the price tag was you never knew who else could have access. Like Emily had said earlier, a Benjamin could get you into a lot of places privately that you weren’t supposed to be in.

When the weekend finally rolled around, both of you were more than ready to indulge, barely able to keep your hands off each other Friday night, just when you thought one round was finally done it simply melted into another. Emily caught herself up in some work Saturday morning but chose to hand you a credit card and told you to go have some fun and you took the day to shop. She was rewarded that evening when you were getting ready, catching a glimpse of some very lacy lingerie before you slipped into your dress, scolding her in a teasing manner for spying.

You were sat at a semi secluded corner booth at the hotel lounge where you shared a mushroom and black truffle flatbread, scallops and a plate of oysters. Cocktails were easily flowing, with no concern of how many refills were had considering you were only planning on walking to the elevator. Not that you weren’t pacing yourselves, but there was more of a sense of letting loose this time. It was almost a celebratory evening, the bill you’d been busting your ass for, for Heather had successfully made it through two rounds of voting, and the BAU had finally caught their nationwide killer, finally leaving time for more hours at the home office.

“You know,” Emily began, her hand resting on your bare thigh, fingers tickling at your skin, “I really have to say thank you for getting Bailey off my back.”

“I take it the date went well?” You asked, leaning into her touch.

“I thought you would know?” She raised a brow and you laughed.

“I haven’t heard from the girl in three weeks.”

“Well it does certainly appear that things worked out in our favour.” She replied, leaning in close enough to steal a kiss.

“Good.” You murmured, pressing your lips to hers once more before leaning away to pick up your drink.

“Between that and catching our unsub I feel like my workload has been cut in half.” She sighed happily, sipping at her cocktail, “I don’t have to nitpick through every piece of paperwork and worry about having to redo it all after Bailey sees it. He’s actually leaving the office at clock out time and not hassling me on the weekends. It’s practically heaven.”

“Now if only you would leave the office at a reasonable time.” You teased and she laughed, a hand reaching up to play with the hair at the back of your neck, guiding you back toward her.

“That’s bold coming from someone who was still working past midnight three times this week.” Her lips brushed against yours as she spoke, yours curving up into a grin before you closed the gap and kissed her, lips moving with grace together.

“Late nights mean I get to go in late the next day.”

“Yeah?” She raised a brow, her face only inches from yours, “and how late is that?”

“Ten,” you laughed, “maybe noon if I’m lucky.”

“She works you too hard.” Emily commented with a slight frown before kissing you and you chuckled into the kiss.

“And you work yourself too hard.” Your hand found her leg, gently squeezing at her thigh, managing to get one last peck in before Emily huffed. The playful eyeroll pulled a laugh from you, she knew you were right, she couldn’t exactly clock you for something that she was way worse at.

“I guess you’ve got me there.” She replied with a small laugh and you squeezed at her leg again.

“I’m pretty sure the saying is ‘work hard, play hard’ so as long as you’re keeping a healthy balance.” You suggested with a smirk and she grinned across at you.

“It’s not like I keep you around for nothing.”

“Though, considering how much work you’ve been doing, maybe I need to up my end of the bargain.”

“Yeah?” She raised a brow, “and what exactly have you got in mind?”

Before you could figure out a full answer, the server swung by to offer another round of drinks. The two of you briefly glanced at each other before selecting a new cocktail off the menu to try. After all, this weekend really was about having some extra levels of fun.

There was a new sense of electricity in the air tonight, it was difficult to keep your hands off each other even out in the eye of the hotel lounge. Though the crowd was dwindling with each hour that passed and it wasn’t long before your server was making a round past the table, mentioning that it was last call, wondering if you wanted another round to take to your room with you or if you just wanted to settle up. The two of you immediately glanced around, realizing you were the last two people in the lounge before apologizing and saying you would settle, Emily making sure to add a more than generous tip.

Her hand caught yours as you stepped into the lobby, your fingers linking together as she let out an almost whiney sigh.

“What?” You asked, turning back to her with a laugh.

“I dunno, it just feels too early to turn in.” She replied with a frown and you glanced at your watch.

“It’s barely two…” you murmured before glancing up at her with a sparkle in your eye,” I know a few places that would still be open.”

“And still serving by the time we get there?” She asked with a small laugh.

“They let people in ‘til three, serve ‘til four thirty, even later on long weekends. Think of it as an…after hours club.”

“The kind of after hours club that promotes fraternizing?”

You chuckled softly, tugging Emily closer to you to steal a kiss, “stop thinking like a fucking fed, it’s nothing illegal. Just people socializing, having fun, making new friends, having some drinks, no drugs, scouts honour. Prestigious enough you need a membership to get in. We don’t have to go,” you shrugged, “I’m sure if we just go upstairs I can entertain you until you’re tired, you just seemed a little extra feisty tonight.”

“Speak for yourself.” She laughed back.

“So should I call a car?” You asked, your brow raised while you watched her think it over.

“Fuck it. It’s about time to have some fun and let loose.”

“That’s what I thought.” You grinned, pulling your phone from your purse to make the call.

Emily wasn’t surprised when a Dunbar car was out front of the hotel mere moments later and you spewed off a cross street to the driver who gave a knowing hum before peeling off down the street. Even in the back of the car it was nearly impossible to keep your hands off each other, your hand quickly finding her clothed thigh before hers was inching up your bare one, daring to sneak under the hem of your dress. She was certain the divider was going to have to be lifted but you were suddenly pulling into a strip mall parking lot.

“This it?” She asked, her brow furrowing.

“Best way to keep a secret, isn’t it?” You replied, a grin on your lips as you leant in to kiss the corner of her mouth, “don’t be freaked when they ID you, they’re just making sure everyone inside is safe. And if you see the President or his wife… no you didn’t.” You slunk out of the car after that, leaving Emily wide eyed before she quickly followed after you, thanking the driver before the door shut behind her.

Your hand found hers as you wandered up to the seemingly closed front door, rapping against it before it swung open and you were let inside. Just as you’d warned her, both of you had your ID’s scanned before you slid your membership card across the counter and the attendant welcomed you with a warm smile and the curtain concealing the next set of doors was opened.

It was darker than Emily had expected, coloured lights shining through the rooms, changing their patterns and pathways sporadically, not particularly strobes, but enough to keep the darkness a mystery. The walls were lined with semi circle booths, tables scattered throughout the open space with a large bar in the middle, it appeared there was a VIP area in a little loft area and she could see heavy strobe lights coming from down a short flight of stairs where the main dance floor was and a longer dark hallway that either led to staff areas or something she wasn’t sure she wanted to think about. The music was loud, bass strumming through the space, reminiscent of her days spent in various clubs around the world. She started to wonder if it was her age showing that was making her think it was entirely too loud or too many years of excessive headphone use coupled with field work damaging her ears when your hand darted out, reaching into a fishbowl on the end of the bar. Her heart leapt into her throat, for a second thinking that you’d either dumped your keys or picked up god knows what before you turned to her with a pack of earplugs between your fingers.

“They keep it abnormally loud in here.” You shouted over the music before leaning in so close your lips were brushing against her ear, “harder to eavesdrop on secrets when you’ve got to be this close.”

She laughed with a nod, opening the packet to put the earplugs in as you did the same, following you up to the bar. With the plugs in the heaviness of the bass was muffled, but she could still hear you clearly, hear herself think rather than be completely clouded by the noise. A couple of cocktails later and you were nestled into one of the smaller curved booths, Emily’s hand once again finding a home on your thigh, fingertips tickling at your skin.

Between the volume and it being her first time there, the first little bit at the club was spent doing the best people watching you could in low light and relaxing, embracing the vibe and the atmosphere. Every so often one of you would lean in to say something, earning a laugh from the other, a more private moment to steal a kiss or make a comment about someone eying their prospective date for the night. Cocktails were replenished without even having to ask, the perfect balance of fruity and strong, though you both knew those were the dangerous kind, you may not be tasting the alcohol tonight, but you’d likely be feeling it tomorrow. But in the moment, it didn’t matter, you were simply enjoying the different environment, feeling frisky and not having to worry at all about watching eyes. Emily felt more free relaxed and uninhibited that she had in years and she was fully enjoying it.

“How did you find out about this place?” She asked, her head ducked toward yours.

“Heather.” You took a sip of your drink, “and before you ask, it’s about a sixty-forty split business-pleasure for her depending on the day. I don’t come too often, it’s not really my style, plus some of the governor’s aides really don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. Doesn’t matter if you were actually talking deals, the next time they see you in the hallway it’s all smarmy grins and waggly eyebrows as if you’d taken them into the back room or something.”

“For a place with so many politicians I’m surprised you haven’t seen anyone tonight.” Emily mused and you laughed.

“Em, please, I’ve clocked at least eight people I know between the door and the bar. But since it’s just all about discretion, no one will approach unless they’re interested,” your finger tapped the bottom of her chin, your breath hot on her lips when you spoke next, “especially when I came in with someone.”

Your lips hit Emily’s with ease and she let herself relax into the kiss, her tongue easily sinking into your mouth, the sweetness of your cocktails swirling around your mouth. You shifted on your seat, a hand sliding up the side of her neck to tangle into her hair and the hand she had on your thigh slipped under the hem of your dress. You let out a soft moan into the kiss, your leg nearly draping over Emily’s knee as her hand slunk higher, finger tips daring to trace patterns on your bare skin and you retaliated by nipping at her lower lip.

“Certainly are feeling frisky tonight, aren’t you?” You asked with a tease and she playfully rolled her eyes at you before leaving a kiss on the side of your neck.

Your hand remained at the back of her head, tickling at her neck, gently playing with her hair while you fell back into the mix of small talk and observing the club. The next time you got your cocktails refilled, the server dropped them off along with two shots of top shelf tequila and a folded cocktail napkin with a pain tucked into it. Emily raised her brow in their direction, watching as your eyes flicked from the napkin out into the bar, surveying the room.

“Let me guess…” you asked, your elbow resting on the table, your chin propped in your hand, “brunette at the end of the bar?”

The server nodded with a small laugh, swiping the empty cocktail glasses from the table and wandering back through the room. Your free hand was still toying with Emily’s hair as she leant in,

“Jackie, right?”

“Mmmhmm.” You replied, turning to her to brush your lips against hers, “looks like we caught someone’s eye.” You slid the tequila shot toward her, “you ever had a threesome?”

“Not in about thirty years.” She chuckled, watching the way your head tilted, the sparkle in your eye as you picked up your tequila shot.

“Intrigued?” You asked, watching as Emily’s eyes finally left yours, looking across the club to Jackie. Her gaze flicked up and down the other woman’s body, taking in the smirk of her lips over the rim of her martini glass, a similar shot of tequila waiting in font of her. She turned back to you, a small grin breaking out on her own lips,

“Very.”

“Thought you might be.”

Looking over toward the bar you raised your shot glass, Emily doing the same beside you and you nearly laughed at the excitement that flashed over Jackie’s face as she raised her own before all three of you shot the liquor back. Glassware slid to the edge of the table you picked up the pen, scrawling your hotel name and room number across the inside of the napkin, folding it and placing it beside the empty shots before grabbing your phone. A moment later the server was back, collecting all of the items and bidding you a goodnight.

“Don’t we have to pay?” Emily asked and you laughed softly, pinching at her chin to steal a kiss.

“It’s charged to the membership card and there’s an auto grat, don’t worry. Now c’mon.”

Introductions were made, flirty small talk was had as hefty glasses of bubbly were handed out, the three of you all surveying the vibes in the room as you got more comfortable with each other. You didn’t shy away from physical contact, your hand lingering on the small of Emily’s back when she moved passed you first, then your fingers loosely wrapping around Jackie’s wrist as you complimented a bracelet. You were the invisible string between the two of them, the one making sure everyone was comfortable and understood the situation and dynamics that were to come with it.

Jackie watched out of the corner of her eye as you murmured something to Emily, your finger curling under her chin before you kissed her. Rather that intruding on the moment she redirected her gaze out the large window over looking the city, the Washington Monument alit in the night sky.

“It’s quite a view you’ve got up here.” She commented, pulling a soft laugh from Emily.

“What can I say?” She replied, smoothing back a piece of your hair as Jackie turned back to face you, “pretty girls deserve to look at pretty things.”

“They certainly do.” The dark haired woman smiled, closing the distance between the three of you as she moved through the room. “You know, I am curious…what is the dynamic between the two of you?” She glanced to Emily, “because you simply exude power and control, but this one..” Her finger tilted towards you, “has been known to put up a fight occasionally.”

Emily laughed, her hand sliding across your lower back, “luckily that’s not something I’ve had to worry about.” She pressed a kiss to your cheek that you leant into before raising an eyebrow at Jackie.

“Funny it should matter to you at all considering it’s a known fact you’re a bit of a pillow princess.”

Jackie’s lips twitched up into a grin as Emily hummed beside you, “huh… just here to get fucked, are you?”

“Oh I’m sure she’ll participate.” You replied, glancing toward Emily before stepping closer to the other woman, “she likes to earn her fucking, isn’t that right?” Your finger tapped Jackie’s nose, “looking all pretty down on your knees, just absolutely begging for it.”

A slight flush took over her cheeks as her eyes darkened, “so you have been listening.”

Emily’s hand slid up your back, fingers almost tangling into the roots of your hair as she stepped ahead of you, her free hand raising to tap Jackie’s chin, “don’t worry, you’ll both get what you deserve. But right now I do think there’s a little bit too much clothing involved, head to the bed and get things started.”

A small nod from both of you before Jackie’s hand was tangled with yours and you were tugging her toward the bed. Her hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you to her for a kiss, lips moving frantically against yours as you backed the rest of the way to the bed. She whined into the kiss when you nipped at her lip before sliding your tongue into her mouth and the whine drowned into a moan. Your hands slid around her shoulders, pushing down the straps of her dress, fingers finding the zipper on the back and tugging it down. The fabric loosely fell around her shoulders, the desire to keep her hands on you too strong to let it fall to the floor quite yet.

Jackie’s hands gripped at your waist, backing you the final couple of steps before your knees hit the bed and they began to wander your body. She eagerly groped at your chest, lips curving up into a grin at the soft moan you let out into the kiss. Her fingers pinched at your nipples through your dress, continuing to toy with you as your hands grabbed her hips, rolling your own against her. Satisfied that your moans had began to morph into whines one of Jackie’s hands wrapped around you, quickly pulling down the zipper of your dress and shoving it down your body. She pulled away from the kiss just far enough for her eyes to flick down, a smirk taking over her lips.

“I just knew you’d be the type to dress up for the occasion.” She murmured, her fingers toying with the lace, “such a pretty set.”

“Guarantee you it looks better on the floor.” You husked back, arms reaching behind you to undo the bra, letting it fall to the ground as you stepped out of your dress and dropped back onto the bed.

You heard Emily huff out a laugh from the corner of the suite but your eyes were on Jackie as she shimmied out of her dress and crawled over you on the bed, your head dropping back into the pillows a moment later when her mouth wrapped around your nipple. Your own hands wandered her body, pinching at her nipples, toying with the waistband of her barely there panties while she continued to suck, bite and pinch at your chest. She moaned against your skin when you palmed at her cunt, her hips grinding down into the touch, just barely starting to rock in a rhythm against your hand.

“Certainly are eager… aren’t we?” Emily’s voice broke into your thoughts and your eyes flickered open, your breath catching in your throat when you realized she was at the base of the bed, stripped down except for the strap. Your hand tangled into Jackie’s hair, pulling her off you, breathlessly stealing a kiss as you sat up and nudged her toward the end of the bed.

“I think it’s time for you to prove what a good girl you are and get on your knees for Emily.”

“That’s it angel…” Emily purred as Jackie crawled off the bed, “get my cock nice and wet.”

“Yes ma’am.” The brunette murmured, settling on her knees in front of the other woman.

She parted her lips, her tongue licking Emily from base to tip before wrapping around the silicone and sinking down inch by inch until she was completely buried in her mouth. Jackie began a steady pace, bobbing on Emily’s cock and the older woman’s hand gently wrapped into her hair.

“Good girl.”

Jackie hummed around her cock, the tip hitting the back of her throat as she gagged, saliva pooling in her mouth as she continued. Emily’s hips rocked toward her, sinking her cock deeper into her mouth as her eyes flicked up to you.

“If you’re just going to take in the show you should probably play with that pretty little pussy.”

Your cheeks heated, a blush shooting through you as if you had just been caught staring at something you weren’t allowed to see and you eagerly nodded at Emily. Adjusting on the bed so you were resting against the headboard you yanked your panties down your legs to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Emily’s fingers tightened in Jackie’s hair, pulling her off her cock with a gasp and turning her head toward the bed,

“She’s got such a pretty pussy, doesn’t she?” She asked and Jackie nodded.

“Oh, fuck yes…”

“Spread your legs princess, let her see that gorgeous cunt.”

You did as asked, your legs spread wide as your hand slunk down your body, settling between your legs where two of your fingers spread your pussy lips apart for the two of them to get a better view. Jackie let out a needy squeak, sitting further up on her knees so she could rub her thighs together and Emily didn’t let the motion go unnoticed.

“You’re allowed to touch yourself.” She cooed, dropping her hair so she could caress her cheek, pinching at her chin to redirect Jackie’s eyes back to hers, “get yourself nice and messy while you suck my cock.”

Emily’s eyes were immediately redirected back to you as you let out a low moan, two fingers sinking into your cunt as you began to lazily finger yourself. A moment later and she felt the base of the toy brush against her clit and she let out a breathy sigh, Jackie’s lips wrapped around her length yet again. The pace Jackie sucked her off matched the rhythm she was bouncing on her own fingers, with more urgency than you were fucking yourself, eager to both prove herself and get as close to her peak as she could. She began to moan around Emily, muffled and needy, drool beginning to pool in the corners of her mouth, droplets dripping down her chin while the sounds of your wetness echoed through the room. Emily groaned at the sights, her hand tugging Jackie’s hair again and the woman let the toy drop from her mouth with a gasp.

“Good girl.” Emily praised, gesturing for her to stand. As she did, Emily’s hand closed around her wrist, pulling the fingers slicked with juices to her mouth and Jackie watched with wide eyes as Emily sucked them clean. “So sweet.” She spanked at her hip, “up on the bed, you’ve earned a reward.”

Climbing onto the bed, Jackie grinned, her hands soothing up your legs, spreading them even further apart, watching the way you fingered yourself.

“Such a gorgeous cunt.” She murmured, ducking down to nip at your inner leg and you chuckled, sliding your fingers out as you shifted on the bed.

“Pretty sure you already proved yourself babe.” Pinching at her chin you pulled her to you for a kiss before glancing over her shoulder at Emily who tilted her head at you.

“C’mere.” Once you were at the foot of the bed she grasped your hips, pinching gently, nodding towards Jackie, “take care of her, but you don’t get to come yet.”

“Of course.” You nodded, smiling sweetly and she chuckled.

“Then flip over.”

It wasn’t a command as much as a warning as Emily was the one who flipped you over onto your stomach, landing with a soft oof as you adjusted yourself, legs dangling off the bed, feet braced on the floor. Smiling, Jackie crawled back closer to you, fingertips drawing patterns across your back,

“Bet you just make the prettiest sounds while you’re getting fucked, don’t you?”

Emily took the cue, the head of her spit slicked cock nudging at your entrance and you let out a whine, pulling a teasing laugh from both of the other women. In one heavy thrust, Emily’s cock was buried in your pussy and you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut until her hand spanked the curve of your ass.

“Go ahead, get her off. You’re just keeping me warm.”

With the tiniest of grumbles, your hands scrambled for Jackie’s hips, yanking her toward you and she was quick to flip onto her back, sliding half underneath you with widespread legs so her pussy was perfectly aligned with your mouth. Emily’s hands on your hips squeezed, nudging you even closer to her and the movement shifted her cock inside you, your pussy fluttering around the toy, clouding your brain just in the slightest.

Doing your best to focus your hands trailed up Jackie’s thighs, thumbs pressing against her pussy as they ran up it, spreading her lips open for you before briefly rubbing over her clit and her head fell back onto the mattress. Your tongue then followed the path your thumbs had just made, swiping through her cunt slowly, lapping up the juices already dribbling out, a small groan leaving your lips at her taste. The tip of your tongue flicked against her throbbing clit and she gasped.

“Oh fuck!” One of Jackie’s hands shot to your head, tangling into your hair as her hips began to grind against your mouth.

Your lips wrapped around her lower ones, moaning and groaning into her pussy, vibrations shooting through her, bringing her pleasure pulsing more south with each move of your mouth. Your tongue dipped into her, swirling the best you could before licking through her again, pressing harder and moving faster with each pass of your tongue.

“More…” she whined, her nails scratching at your scalp and your mouth moved up, sucking her clit into your mouth. “Fuck! Yes! Right there.”

As your lips wrapped around her throbbing nub, your tongue danced patterns across it with varying speed and pressure. Jackie’s noises became louder with each lick, her lip tugged into her mouth to help muffle the sounds. Behind you, Emily, proud of the work you were putting in slowly circled her hips, causing the toy buried inside you to move just enough to get you moaning against Jackie’s clit, pulling even more noise from the dark haired woman. Just as she was about to start begging for more, two of your fingers pressed into her opening, rubbing softly, just enough to be more than a tease and give her what she wanted.

“Oh my god…” she sighed, hips rocking down to the touch.

“That feel good sweetheart?” Emily asked her, leaning over you just enough to pinch at Jackie’s thigh, “you like it when she eats your cunt?”

“Fuck yes.” She moaned in response.

Your fingers slid in and she gasped, her back arching off the bed as your tongue pressed harder against her clit and you began to fuck her. Your fingers twirled, twisted and scissoring around in her cunt, stretching her out, teasing her just enough to have her a whining mess against the bed before your hand began to pump back and fourth. You crooked your fingers just enough and she swore, a near cry leaving her throat.

“Fuck! Right there.”

You pressed against the spot again and her thighs trembled around you and you knew she was close. A heavy groan from you muffled against her cunt as Emily circled her hips again, her cock dragging against your walls as she pinched at your hips. Your mouth popped off her with a gasp of breath as you thrust your fingers into her faster, curling with each pump and your free hand rubbed her clit.

“I know you’re close sweetheart.” You pressed down on her clit harder, “come for me.”

Ducking your mouth back down you replaced your hand with it, sucking her clit hard into your mouth as your fingers pushed into the sensitive spot in her drenched cunt. A few more pumps of your hand and Jackie was crying out, her back arching off the bed as her body tensed, orgasm rocking through her. You let up with your mouth, leaving a gentle kiss just above her clit as your fingers slowed.

“So good for us.” You purred, kissing across her thighs, “so pretty when you come.”

Your fingers slipped from her and you crawled back onto the bed, letting out a low whine when Emily’s cock slipped from your cunt. You trailed kisses up Jackie’s body while she caught her breath, finally landing with one on her lips.

“Holy fuck.” She muttered, still panting.

“Such a good girl.” You cooed, leaning down to nip at her neck, “now… are you finished or do you think you can go for on more?”

“More.” She pouted a whine leaving her lips and you chuckled.

“Yeah?” Sitting up you glanced over your shoulder to where Emily was slowly rubbing up and down the toy, “you want her cock?”

“Mmhmm.” Jackie scrambled to her knees, her eyes wide and pleading.

“Want Emily to fill up that tasty fucking pussy of yours?”

“Fuck. Please.” She looked between the two of you, eyes darting down to Emily’s cock coated in your juices, “please oh god, I need it.”

Emily chuckled, crooking two fingers at the other woman, “you can have it. But you don’t get to come until you’ve made her come, understood?”

“Yes.” Jackie practically pounced down to the end of the bed, sprawling out on her back and spreading her legs wide for Emily, her pussy still dripping with wetness.

You watched as Emily slid the tip of the toy through her folds, smearing her wetness with your remaining juices, teasing her just enough so that Jackie was out of breath again.

“Well?” she glanced from her cock up to Jackie’s face and over to you and the other woman’s hands scrambled to your waist, tugging you to her as Emily yanked her to the edge of the bed and sunk her cock into her.

Jackie let out a low moan, nearly forgetting the task at hand at the sensation of being full and stretched before her head rolled towards you, “sit on my face.”

You didn’t waste any time, quickly straddling her head and a second later her hands were clawing at your waist, tugging you right down onto her face, her tongue lapping at your pussy. Behind you, Emily set a steady pace, her hips thrusting into Jackie with precision and skill, watching at the way you started to grind down onto her face. As much as you had wanted to watch Jackie come undone on the other woman’s cock you were utterly lost in your own world as she started to eat you out, your pussy throbbing around nothing as pleasure began to shoot through you.

“Oh my god…” you groaned, your head falling back as you hands began to wander you own body, aching for something to latch onto as Jackie’s lips wrapped around your clit. “Fuck!”

Each time Emily circled her hips, or began to toy with the other woman’s clit, Jackie’s moans got louder and longer, vibrating right into your cunt. Her nose would brush against your clit, rubbing at it as her tongue explored as much of your dripping pussy as she could. Your hands pinched at your nipples, rolling them between your fingers as you rode her face, matching the pace that Emily was fucking her. Jackie’s tongue flicked at your clit again and you gasped.

“Fuck.”

“That’s it.” Emily husked from behind you, thrusting harder into her, “she likes that, keep going.”

Jackie’s mouth latched around your clit and you shuddered, your thighs trembling around her head and you could almost feel her lips curving up into a smirk. Her hand snuck between your legs, sinking two fingers into you, curling immediately and you moaned, this one louder than the last.

“Keep that up and you’ll make her come.” Emily urged, and Jackie didn’t waste a single second.

Her tongue pressed harder, dancing its patterns faster as her hand began to move quicker, her free hand gripped your waist so tight you knew there would be marks tomorrow. She pulled you down so tight onto her face if you’d been thinking straight you would have been worried about suffocating her but all you could think about was the way your pussy was clenching around her fingers, how her hot mouth felt on your cunt and the noises of Emily fucking her harder and faster with each time you ground down onto her face.

“Oh my god…oh my god…” you weren’t sure how much longer you were going to be able to stay upright, your hips jolting as pleasure soared through your body. Your hands scrambled to catch yourself on the mattress, clawing at the bedspread as Jackie continued to hold you down, her fingers fucking into you faster as what you thought was your oncoming orgasm suddenly resurged up again, building even higher and hotter under your skin until she sucked on your clit again and you cried out, thighs shaking around her head.

Your entire body shuddering you were finally able to break free from her grasp, collapsing down onto the bed beside her with your chest heaving as she panted, a sly grin on her lips as she was more than satisfied with her work.

“That’s it sweet girl.” Emily praised, her hands soothing up Jackie’s thighs as the other woman was able to fully focus on her pleasure.

“Fuck…harder… please.”

Emily’s hips rocked forward, a particularly sharp thrust that had Jackie gasping for air and you chuckled softly, rolling onto your stomach to cage her into the bed. Your lips caught hers, tongue dipping into her mouth to suck your own juices off her tongue, swallowing down each others moans. Giving her a chance to breathe, your mouth made its way down her neck, sucking and biting into the crook of it while she let out more noises.

“God,” Emily groaned, “you look so fucking good taking my cock. Such a pretty girl.”

Jackie could do nothing but whine in response, her senses on fire at the multiple touches against her skin. Your free hand quickly sunk between her legs, beginning to play with her clit in the same speed Emily was fucking her, alternating between pressing hard or rubbing softly.

“Can feel you trembling baby.” You murmured into her neck before biting down hard and she groaned, her hips launching up off the bed. “You gonna come for us? Let us see how fucking hot you look?”

“Fuck.” She muttered, “s-close.”

“Mmhmm.” Your tongue swiped at the already darkening mark on her skin before sucking at it again and she whimpered.

Emily’s hand was suddenly on top of yours, pressing down even harder against Jackie’s clit, urging you to rub faster and she circled her hips again. The small circle along with the combined pressure of both of your hands was all it took for Jackie to be crying out, her body shaking as it jolted off the bed and she hit her peak. Your hand softly trailed up her body as you gently kissed across her skin, finger tips drawing patterns while she panted.

“That’s it…” you cooed, “so good for us.”

“Such a pretty girl.” Emily murmured, her hips slowing and she fully sunk into Jackie one last time, holding there for a moment, “takes it so well even from two at once.”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, placing a gentle kiss on her collarbone, “kinda gives me ideas.”

“Really?” Jackie asked breathlessly, her eyes cracking open, a small smirk on her lips.

“Ones I just know you’d like.” You teased, leaning over her with a grin and when Emily pulled out you capture her lips in a kiss, muffling the whine.

Emily disappeared into the bathroom for a minute, no doubt cleaning off the toy leaving it to dry and freshening up, coming back a few moments later wrapped in a fuzzy robe. Opening the mini fridge she picked out a few bottles of water, passing them over to you to take a few sips.

“Christ…” Jackie muttered with a small laugh, “that was not how I expected my night to end.”

“Not expected maybe, but it was what you were hoping for.” You laughed back.

“I told myself I would stay for one drink, just happened to be a lucky one.” She retorted, “I was there for business. Speaking of,” lifting her wrist to check her watch she let out a sigh, pushing up to sitting, “I’ve got an early meeting, I need to get going.” Slipping off the bed, she quickly redressed herself, scooping up her purse before leaning over the bed, leaving a kiss on your lips, “I’ll see you.”

“Mmhm.”

Crossing to Emily she left a kiss on her cheek, “thanks. Here’s hoping to running into you again.”

“Only time will tell.” She smirked, watching as the other woman vanished from the hotel room.

You let out a sigh, finally sitting up from the bed, groaning as you stretched out your body before disappearing into the bathroom. In the short time it took you to freshen up, remove your make up and brush your teeth Emily had ridden herself of the robe, opting to slip under the sheets naked instead. She was about to pick up the remote when you spoke,

“You know… something doesn’t totally feel fair.” You stated as you climbed back into the bed.

“What? That she just gets to leave?”

“No.” You laughed and she caught the devilish gleam in your eye, “you didn’t get come…”

Your hands were on her hips before she even realized it, letting out a quiet shriek as you flipped her onto her back with a wicked grin on your lips. Though there was no time to even think about protesting, your mouth and hands were on her before she could even think, eagerly and very energetically repaying her for all of the pleasure she’d given out that night.

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