Secret glances, whispers and jokes that only you both understood; a bond that none of the others had. Coffee dates on the week-ends, sitting next to each other on the plane, finishing each other's sentences, hands touching.

Kisses when the others weren't looking, wearing the other's clothes, knowing of Emily liked her coffee, what type of drinks she ordered at the bar, if she had any type of allergies.

You could remember exactly the first time you had seen her, it had been your first day at the BAU after months of trying for it. It was a sunny day of summer and she was the last one in the bureau, overworking of a case.

She had greeted you with stuttering words, eyes wide and sparkling; red cheeks that made you almost chuckle at her face. At that moment, that exact moment, you knew she would be yours and you would be hers.

For months, the team teased both of you because of the flirting, of the accidentally hand touching, when you had exchanged your number with hers. It was as if you were back in college, too shy to ask someone on a date.

And after a bit of pushing from everyone, you both went to get a drink one night, then one date turned into five, then into ten — and before you knew it, she was your girlfriend. One would think it would be hard to mix work and love, but not at all.

You both never missed a way to show your love to the other one; by buying flowers, chocolate, having dates, whispering I love you's.

Emily was your one, and you were hers; there was no denying of that. You could care less if relationships between coworkers was allowed or not. What could Strauss do, anyway? She couldn't stop you from loving Emily.

And your girlfriend could care less, especially with the amount of love she showed you everyday, even at work. She'd slip at your desk, smiling brightly and whisper sweet-nothing in your ears when no one was watching.

"You know I'm very lucky to have you, right?" She'd say. "I'm very lucky, baby. You get the best of me."