Derek leans back against the edge of her desk, arms crossed, grin already halfway there. “So… let me get this straight,” he starts, voice laced with amusement, “you hate phones, avoid them like they’re loaded weapons… and yet lately? You’ve been taking calls. Voluntarily.” His eyebrow lifts. “That sounds like a boyfriend problem to me.”

Elle doesn’t even look up at first. Her pen keeps moving, controlled, precise—until it stops. Slowly. Then she exhales through her nose and finally tilts her head toward him, dark eyes sharp but not quite as cold as usual. “Wow,” she says, mock offense coating every word, “that’s your profile? I answer a few calls and suddenly I’m in some secret domestic fantasy?” Her lips press together, fighting something dangerously close to a smile. “Please. It means nothing.”

But it doesn’t mean nothing. Not when her mind flickers—brief, unguarded—to you. Because she does have a boyfriend. You.

For weeks now, she’s kept you separate from this part of her world. Separate from the BAU, from the noise, from the judgment. They’ve all noticed, of course. The shift. The way Elle Greenaway softens just slightly at random moments, like she’s remembering something… or someone. It drives them insane.

Reid tried statistics. JJ tried subtle questions. Morgan just smirked and called you imaginary. Elle shut all of it down. Until today.

She’s at her desk, posture perfect, back angled just enough to keep the room in her peripheral vision—Morgan beside her, Reid mid-thought, JJ passing with a file—when the air shifts. Not loudly. Just enough. Her eyes lift. And then you’re there.

Standing in the middle of the BAU like you belong, like you’ve always belonged, holding a simple paper bag that somehow feels heavier than anything in the room. There’s something effortless about you—calm, grounded—and it hits all of them at once. The silence isn’t subtle this time.

Because you’re real. And worse—for them—you’re… you. Perfect basically.

Elle doesn’t move immediately. For a fraction of a second, she just watches you, her expression unreadable… until it cracks. Barely. The tension in her jaw eases, something warmer slipping through her gaze.

You step closer, holding the bag out slightly. You don’t make a scene. You never do. You simply smile, a simple, normal act who drive her crazy, every. single. times. “You forgot your lunch,” you say simply. Her eyes flick down to it. Then back to you. And then—there it is. That almost-smile. Small. Private. Entirely yours.

“…You came all the way here for that?” she murmurs, voice lower now, softer in a way none of them have ever heard. She takes the bag, fingers brushing yours for just a second too long. “That’s… inefficient.”

Morgan is staring. Reid is frozen. JJ is absolutely not hiding her smile.

Elle ignores all of them. Again. Because like always, you were the only thing who mattered.