Help
Sweat trickled down her back as she crashed through the underbrush after her partner, her breath coming heavier with every step. She'd lost count of how many times she'd cursed their current rabbit of an unsub under her breath, but she added one more for good measure as he hurdled a downed tree like it was nothing, Morgan hot on his tail and her only a few steps behind. The rushing of her blood in her ears drowned out all other sound and her hand clenched unconsciously tighter around the grip of her gun as she slipped in a patch of mud, her shouted curse causing the man they were chasing to turn to look at her, his steps slowing just enough to allow her partner to launch himself at him, the tackle sending both of them rolling into the overgrowth around them. Emily hurried to catch up to them, throwing herself down on top of their suspect to hold him so Morgan could slap his cuffs on him, paying no attention to anything but the sociopath trying to fight her off.
It was only after he'd been cuffed and patted down that the agents had taken notice of the lush greenery under and around them.
He'd known even before he'd set eyes on his agents what sort of trouble they'd found themselves in – the rookie officers who had returned first to the station that the BAU was calling home had been almost gleeful in their recollections of the two FBI hotshot profilers who'd charged headfirst into, quote, "the largest patch of poison ivy this side of Kentucky". Even if Hotch hadn't heard them, though, all it would've taken was one glance to see the splotchy red rash covering their arms, one minute with them to notice the uncontrollable itching both were unconsciously giving in to as they gave their statements at the scene. He sighed heavily and rubbed his hand across his brow in a poor attempt to ward off the coming headache before addressing the other agents in the SUV.
"Reid, dig out some gloves from the back. God knows the rest of us don't want any part of that."
The younger man nodded and twisted to do as he'd been told, and Hotch turned to the older man beside him in the front seat, giving him a halfhearted glare at the eyeroll sent his way.
"Come on. Let's finish up here so we can head back. I have a feeling it's going to be a rough night."
The three men stepped out of the vehicle and made their way to where their teammates were standing, just in time to hear the Detective they were with say, "Ok, Agents. We'll meet you back at the station." Hotch nodded at the man as he walked past, then turned his attention to his agents.
"What happened?"
"He bolted as soon as we knocked on the door, didn't even give us a chance to identify ourselves."
His eyes didn't leave his agents as they recalled the events that had brought them all to stand in this clearing. For a less concentrated man their constant fidgeting and scratching would have meant early irritation, but he merely pushed their actions aside and focused on their words. When their tale had finished, he allowed himself a closer look at them. The exposed skin of their arms was blotchy and angry red, their flesh swollen where nails had tried to scratch out relief. Hotch motioned for his agents to move back to the SUVs, a park ranger having pulled Morgan and Prentiss's vehicle up beside its twin, and caught sight of the rash noticeable on the backs of their necks.
Between all of their scratching and squirming, it would be a miracle if it hadn't spread farther than what he could see.
With a heavy sigh and a dark look, he sent a laughing Rossi and an oblivious Reid to drive the other SUV back, opting to take the itchy twins with him.
They'd stopped at the first pharmacy they'd come across and bought all of the calamine lotion on the shelf. Hotch didn't know how much they'd need, but if he had to listen to Morgan complain about how miserable he was for one more minute, well, he'd have a hell of a lot of paperwork and a spot to fill on the team, and he really didn't want to have to break in a new agent right now. And judging by the look that flashed in Prentiss's eye every time her partner opened his mouth, he wasn't the only one seriously considering where he could hide a body at this time of year. He rolled his eyes as the dark man started to speak again.
"How can one little plant be so fu- "
"Morgan, I swear to God" she hissed from the backseat. "I get that you're miserable, really, I do. I'm miserable too. But we're ten minutes from the hotel and we have $200 worth of lotion to slather on when we get there, so suck it up. Because I swear, swear, Morgan, that if you open your mouth one more time, you're going to choke on my fist." Her angry rant was punctuated by furious scratching of short nails against the inflamed flesh of her forearms, and Morgan's mouth clicked audibly shut.
The rest of the drive to the hotel was silent save for the sound of nails on skin and the squeaking of the leather upholstery as the two uncomfortable agents tried desperately to relieve their itchiness.
Hotch had insisted on connecting rooms, as he always did, so they only had to wait for Morgan to unlock his door before both agents could run for their own showers. Since Emily's room was in the middle of the ones shared by Morgan and Reid and Hotch and Dave, respectively, it was on her bed that the unit chief settled, the multiple pharmacy bags full of lotion at his feet. As he heard both showers turn on, he slipped his cell out of his pocket. A short conversation with Dave informed him that the older man had things well in hand and he and the boy genius should be back shortly, having wrapped up all remaining loose ends when their suspect had confessed three minutes into the interrogation. With nothing else to do until any of the four members of his team resurfaced, Hotch settled back and flipped on the TV, finally landing on an old black and white movie that he vaguely remembered.
He must've dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Dave and Reid were bumbling in through the door, laden with food and drink. He stepped over to take some of their load, depositing their dinners on the small desk in the corner of the room. The three men were deep in conversation when they were interrupted by muffled cursing coming from behind the closed bathroom door.
"Goddamn motherfu- "
The smirk that pulled across Dave's lips alerted Hotch that whatever the old Italian said next would be highly inappropriate, so he sent his friend a glare that'd, on more than one occasion, had lesser men cowering in fear, but of course, David Rossi was not a lesser man, and had, in fact, grown immune to this particular glare about a week after rejoining the unit, so he spoke anyway.
"Troubles, Bella? Need some help scratching your itch?"
The door opened just enough for a prewrapped bar of soap to come soaring out, hitting the old profiler squarely in the chest. He hung his head as Rossi burst into another round of uncontrollable laughter and Reid's face bloomed red to match his teammates' rashes. Deciding to head off whatever verbal war was starting right in front of him, he pushed half of the lotion into his old friend's arms and practically shoved him into Morgan and Reid's adjoining room, chuckling to himself as his youngest agent tripped over his own feet following. He made sure the connecting door was securely closed before he turned his attention back to the agent still muttering curses in the bathroom.
"Prentiss?"
Behind the door, the woman in question froze in her movements, her arms contorted uncomfortably behind her back as she stretched to scratch at a particularly bothersome spot. She knew that he would've sent Rossi to help Morgan after that last comment, and Reid would've likely followed him, so Hotch was the only one on the other side of the door. She weighed her options – she could continue her contortionism and likely injure herself in the bathroom, she could ask him to send in one of the other guys, or she could go out there and let her boss/friend/secret crush rub lotion all over her back. Cursing once more under her breath, she pulled the door open and moved out into the room, where she was immediately confronted with the sight of her very hot supervisor sitting on the edge of her bed in his white t-shirt and black dress pants, having discarded his jacket and button-up on the desk chair. She suddenly felt way underdressed standing before him in gym shorts and an old academy t-shirt, but the itchiness of her skin quickly pushed those thoughts from her mind.
He motioned for her to move closer to him, and she noticed the lotion and gloves sitting on the floor by his socked feet. Huffing out a sigh, she resigned herself to the next few minutes and closed the distance between them, stopping in front of his bent knees as he snapped gloves on and reached for the first bottle. She absently lifted a hand to scratch at her forearm as she watched him, and was surprised when she felt strong fingers close around her wrist preventing the movement.
"You have to stop scratching."
His low murmur sent a shiver down her spine, and she briefly locked eyes with him. Her eyes slid closed a second later when she felt the cool relief of the lotion on her inflamed skin, and she couldn't hold in the moan that escaped her lips. He was methodical in the way he moved down her arms, first the left, then the right, from shoulder to fingertip, until every inch of her upper extremities was coated in a layer of calamine. He turned his attentions to her neck, carefully soothing the angry skin, before turning her around so that he was facing her back. His next words sounded extra loud in comparison to the hushed dialogue of the black and white still playing on the TV.
"Lift up your shirt."
His hands hadn't stopped their quiet ministrations on the back of her neck, so it took her brain a few extra seconds to process his request. She wasn't any less confused when it finally caught up.
"Huh?" Heat flooded her cheeks, and she was glad that she was facing away from him.
"I need to put some lotion on the rash on your back, otherwise you're going to be miserable the whole flight home."
"Oh, ah, right." Emily mentally shook her head at the other thoughts his words had brought unbidden to her mind and reached behind her to pull the soft cotton of the oversized shirt up so he could reach the skin underneath. His hands trailed softly up her spine until they met the base of her neck, and she sighed softly as they worked their way slowly back down, smoothing lotion onto every burning inch of her.
A smile stretched his lips as he worked the soothing cream into her flesh, feeling her relax against him a little more with every pass his hands made until she was swaying on her feet, nearly asleep in front of him. Without thinking, he tugged the hoodie he'd dug out of his go-bag down to cover her body before pulling her to sit in his lap.
"How did you even manage to get it that far under your shirt?"
Her only answer was another soft sigh as she tipped her head back to rest against his shoulder, and in that moment he wanted more than anything to press a kiss where her skin met the collar of the t-shirt she wore, but a knock sounded on the connecting door and he was suddenly reminded of the case and the team and the food currently sitting on the desk, and the moment was gone, like all the other moments he'd almost kissed her and she'd almost let him.