The team has left for the evening, Emily sits at her desk, meticulously combing through case files. You’re at your workstation across from her, feigning productivity but unable to focus. Your gaze keeps drifting her way.

“You know, staring is considered rude,” Emily says, not looking up from her file. Her tone carries that familiar playful lilt, but beneath it lies an unmistakable edge of authority, a subtle reminder of the unspoken distance she’s careful to maintain.

“I wasn’t staring,” you reply too quickly, stumbling over your words as a warm flush creeps up your neck. “Just... thinking.”

She finally looks up, tilting her head just enough for her dark eyes to catch yours. “About the case, I hope,” she teases, her lips curving into a faint smile that’s both disarming and devastating. It’s the kind of smile that makes you feel seen, even when you’d rather stay hidden.

But the case isn’t what’s been occupying your mind. It hasn’t been for hours, maybe days. Not since you joined the team and saw her for the first time, commanding the room with a presence that was effortless yet undeniable. There’s something about Emily Prentiss, something magnetic and maddening, a blend of wisdom and wit, strength and vulnerability. She’s everything you admire, everything you crave, and everything you’ve never had.

Growing up, you never knew stability. Your mother was a whirlwind - brilliant but distant, too consumed by her own pursuits to notice the child longing for her attention. You learned to fend for yourself, to shrink your needs and bury your feelings, but the scars of that absence linger. And now, every time Emily looks at you with that mixture of warmth and care, it feels like she’s reaching into that hollow space you’ve carried for years, filling it in ways that terrify you.

She seems to sense it, too.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” she says, her voice softening. It’s no longer a playful observation but an invitation, one that carries a weight of understanding you hadn’t expected. “Everything okay?”