Emily Prentiss was always good at keeping secrets. Years in the FBI had taught her how to compartmentalize, how to keep things locked away, and how to keep her personal life separate from work. It wasn’t that she was hiding you—it was just that no one ever asked, and she never offered.

No one at the BAU suspected that Emily Prentiss had been married for years.

The assumption was always the same: Emily was a workaholic, married to the job, too independent to settle down. And Emily let them believe it because, in truth, she loved having something that was just hers. A love away from the chaos, away from the darkness of profiling serial killers. A love that was safe. That was you.

You had been together for years—since before she became Unit Chief—and when you finally got married, you both agreed to keep it private. It wasn’t about secrecy; it was about keeping what you had sacred.

But today, that secret was about to unravel.

Emily had been in a rush that morning, running late and juggling emails before she even had a chance to step out the door. In the chaos, she left her badge and lunch sitting on the kitchen counter. You found them after she had already left, shaking your head fondly.

Ordinarily, she’d just suffer through the day without them, but you had a break in your own schedule, and bringing them by was no big deal. At least, that’s what you thought.

When you stepped into the BAU bullpen, the entire room stilled.

You weren’t exactly sure what caught their attention first—maybe it was the way you moved like you belonged there, maybe it was the casual ease with which you carried Emily’s things, or maybe it was just the undeniable familiarity in the way you looked around, like you knew this wasn’t just some office.

JJ was the first to break the silence. “Uh, can I help you?”

You lifted the badge and lunch bag. “I’m just dropping these off for Emily. She left them at home.”

Home.

The room collectively inhaled.