Guys Like Greg
Disclaimer: I wish, but no, don't own the characters/show.
Author's Note: Apparently I have a thing when it comes to these two and pajamas. I also have been watching a good deal of a certain sitcom lately. I regret nothing. Enjoy!
It was her guilty pleasure. Extremely guilty pleasure because of just whom she thought the lead male actor resembled. But it let her forget all the horrible things she'd ever seen, ever had happen to her, ever had to bury deep down, and because of that she couldn't make herself regret it. She'd even done a little happy dance when she'd found it among the boxes of her old belongings.
The night Garcia had returned Sergio to her new apartment she'd had it playing in the background and forgot to stop the DVD, and Garcia being Goddess of All Things Tech immediately noticed the TV was on and proceeded to tease her mercilessly for ten straight minutes.
Allowing her to get that out of her system, Emily then swore her to absolute secrecy, Penelope admitted that she was also a fan of such shows, and Girl's Night of Nineties Sitcoms was born. It didn't take long for JJ to find out either, again sworn to complete secrecy, and so barring a case a new weekly tradition was created.
And every night that they could make it it was like the girl's nights Emily had always wanted as a teenager but never got. Giggling and popcorn and pillow fights and drooling over whatever sitcom hottie happened to be on the screen at the time. And while neither JJ nor Penelope said a word, they always knew to be extra quiet whenever a certain male lead was on the screen.
She treasured these nights, which was why when they had been working back-to-back cases for weeks she managed to run home just once to retrieve a certain DVD box set. If she couldn't share it with friends, with family, at least she could keep herself occupied watching on her computer when she couldn't sleep. Which she had to admit was more often than not lately.
It was one such night, however, that she was greeted with a knock on her door, and two very eager faces.
"JJ? Penelope? It's late, what are you doing-"
"We know you've got Season One in your go-bag, Emily. I've got my computer and hook-up cables, let's do this."
She doesn't need to be told twice, quickly allowing them in. Girl's Night of Nineties Sitcoms was a go.
They were halfway into the first episode when Emily sighed, flopping her head against her pillow as she lay sprawled on her stomach across her bed.
"What's up?" JJ asked, eyes still glued to the screen.
"They really don't make them like that."
"They?"
"Guys. Guys like Greg, I mean."
"Oh I dunno, we've got some good examples in our little family," Garcia argued, making a not so subtle wink at JJ.
"Oh, no. No! We are not going there tonight! We need at least two bottles of wine and we're on a case so I don't see that happening anytime soon!"
"C'mon, Em! We both know that's a big part of the reason you love this show so much!" JJ smiled, poking Emily's shoulder with her index finger from where she sat cross-legged on the bed.
"Something that you both are sworn to absolute secrecy about may I remind you, and-"
"And we're just saying rather than swoon over his doppelganger you could always go after the man you really want," Garcia winked from the desk chair she'd opted to take, cocooned in a fuchsia blanket she'd obviously brought from home.
"JJ, Penelope, please-"
"You know we're right, Em! And don't think it's such a lost cause! We see what you obviously refuse to, we see how he looks at you, and it puts Greg's looks to utter shame!"
She takes a moment to consider the evidence, really consider it, and she comes up short. What were her friends seeing that she wasn't? Or was it that she did see, but she just pushed it away, refusing to believe that a man like him could go for someone like her?
"Plus, I bet he's great in the sack."
"Garcia!"
Penelope's frank assumption has them all in hysterics, so much so that Emily only barely hears the sharp knock on her door. She manages to wrangle her laughter in long enough to get up and answer, and immediately wishes she hadn't.
Hotch. Sweatpants. T-shirt. Dear Lord, she just might have drooled a little.
But any dribble quickly dried up at the look on his face. He was pissed.
"I've never had a noise complaint filed about a room one of my team is occupying until tonight, Prentiss."
"Sir, I am so sorry, we were just-"
"Letting off some steam, I'm aware. However, the BAU still has an image to maintain, so I suggest you all disband for tonight and get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
Her back straightens instinctually at the mention of not representing the BAU well.
"Yes, Hotch. We'll do just that. Good night."
She's just about to close the door, however, when he stops her.
"Oh, and Prentiss?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Nice pajamas."
It hadn't even occurred to her until he'd mentioned it exactly what she was wearing. The horribly unattractive flannel button down variety, pink with multi-colored cat figures all over the fabric.
She's pretty sure her face is as pink as the fabric as she mumbles, "Thanks, they were a gift from Garcia."
"You're welcome. Good night, Prentiss."
She hears the laughter in his voice rather than sees it, and as he walks away she feels her face grow even redder. Damn her pale complexion!
He's disappeared back into his room before Garcia speaks up.
"See? Told ya!"
"What?"
"He totally was checking you out!"
"In these pajamas? He was so not."
"It wasn't the PJs per say, more that he was trying to see what lied beneath them."
"Oh shut up, JJ."
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Garcia smiled nonetheless.
"You better believe it."
"Well, as much as I'd love to keep arguing, I'm following orders and going to bed. Walk to you to your room, Miss Penelope?"
"Much obliged, Miss JJ."
They attempt to glide down the hall like belles at a ball, Garcia of course with computer and cable in hand, and Emily can't help but let out one last laugh before closing her door.
Just after she does and decides to try for sleep herself, however, her phone starts to ring. A text message from Garcia.
You gotta admit it. You hate to see him leave, but you love to watch him go. ;D
She refuses to dignify the message with a response.