Emily twisted the key in the lock, and pushed the door to her apartment open. As soon as she set foot inside, she dropped her bag and kicked off her boots. It had been a long day. A long, stressful day, and she felt a headache like none she had ever experienced starting to settle. In her book, there were only few true cures for that.

Wine or coffee. Wine… or coffee…? she thought to herself as she sluggishly walked further into her house. A couple glasses of red sounded divine. That and a long hot bath. But when she remembered that she still had a few official documents to review before bed (a unit chief's work was never truly finished), she figured coffee and a quick shower were probably the smartest options.

Walking slowly, Emily massaged her temples. She was just about to round the corner into her kitchen, when a tall figure suddenly appeared in front of her.

"Oh my god!" She cried, and instinctively reached for her fire arm.

"Hey, hey whoa!" He said, holding his hands out in front of him, "It's just me, Emily."

Slowly un-tensing, she released her grip on her gun. Her brain called off its danger alarms once she quickly identified who the intruder was, "Andrew, jesus—You scared me."

Even though she nearly shot him, the man couldn't have been happier to see her. She was especially adorable when she was alert and hyper-vigilant. And yes, it was strange, but the little bit of shock or disbelief that lingered in her eyes only made him love her a little bit more.

It also encouraged him to move to hug her. If anything, he hoped that his familiar touch would assure her that he wasn't a serial killer there to harm her.

The man smirked. "I'm sorry." He said and he wrapped his arms around her.

Emily reciprocated his embrace, pressing herself into him, and resting her head on his chest, "Why are you here?"

"Because we planned for me to come up and visit you a couple weeks ago?" He chuckled.

"Oh, right. I'm sorry - it's been crazy here." She pulled back a little to look into his face, a soft smile forming on her lips,"It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too." He repeated, and kissed her on the forehead.

After giving him a quick kiss on the cheek in return, Emily resumed her original mission of getting a pot of coffee started in the kitchen. Mendoza followed close behind.

"How was work?" He asked casually.

"Fine." She replied mindlessly, grabbing a container of coffee grounds from a cabinet.

"Just fine?" He raised.

"Mmhmm…"

Emily then began to search her cabinets for some coffee filters. Usually, they were stored with her grounds, all the coffee preparations in one place. Yet, for some reason they weren't where she expected. Perhaps she was out, but— she knew she had just used them early that same morning.

She exhaled sharply, growing frustrated with how she couldn't remember what she did with them. Prentiss moved from cabinet to cabinet, throughly searching each one, searching almost neurotically.

Andrew watched her do this. At first, he was amused. He watched her fiddle around with the coffee pot, search a cabinet, return to the coffee pot, and then search another cabinet. But when it got to a point where she was checking cabinets she had already checked, he grew a little concerned. Something was going on. He didn't know what, but something was up.

"Emily?" He called to her,"You okay?"

"Just looking for my coffee filters." She chimed, and continued to rummaged through another cabinet.

"You sure? You already checked that cabinet two times." He pointed out, "Is… something going on?"

Whether she was purposefully not listening or overly invested in what she was doing, he couldn't tell. Either way, Emily didn't respond. Instead, she pulled open a few drawers and started searching through them. Again.

Andrew came round the corner of the center countertop, and reached for her shoulders. Stopping her mid-search of the cups cabinet, he gently turned her to face him, "Hey, you're freaking me out a little bit. Talk to me. Tell me what's up."

Emily bit the inside of her cheek. Beyond trying to gradually move past what was bothering her, she wasn't in the mood to talk. She simply wanted to do what she made her mind up to do. "It's just… been a long day. I've got work to do, and I would like to make some coffee." she replied matter of factly.

"It's 11pm."

"I know, and I have homework."

"You're telling me that homework is what's stressing you out— is what's got you flipping the kitchen upside down like a mad woman?"

At his remark, a good-humored smile crept onto her face, but it quickly dissolved into a painful grimace.

"What's going on?" He asked again.

Emily paused. She desperately searched his eyes for a foothold— a sign that she could trust him with the information he wanted her to tell him. Of course, there was never a chance she wouldn't be able to find what she needed there. He was a natural listener, and the tenderness and love which he had for her only intensified that attribute. The real challenge was surmounting her own personal reluctancy to be open with him.

Breathing in deeply, she spoke,"A couple weeks ago… I found out that my name is on a short list to be the Director of the FBI — or, it was." Mendoza's expression expanded with surprise, but before he could even respond with any sort of congratulations, Emily promptly continued,"We lost six agents in an explosion yesterday, so for obvious, political reasons... my name is no longer on that list."

"Oh, Em…" Andrew exhaled,"Were you going to take it while you had the chance?"

She shrugged, and then broke from his hold to continue rustling for the coffee filters,"I'm still Unit Chief and that's all that matters."

Mendoza squinted in suspicion. It was an answer, but a dodging one. He could tell she was trying to brush it off like it wasn't a big deal— which, maybe it wasn't, but he had common sense enough to know that getting offered something as huge a being Director of the FBI and then having that opportunity taken away on such short notice could not not take it's toll or have a deeper affect on someone— especially someone as career oriented at the Emily Prentiss he knew.

"You wanted the job…" He said, offering the sentiment to the open air. How she responded would tell him everything. And not just in her verbal expression, but in her body as well.

Immediately, her eyes went to the ground.

She wanted to deny him, to tell him that she didn't explicitly say whether she wanted the position or not. But… the other 7 candidates we all men. And despite everything on her record, somehow someone saw her reputation and selected her as a promising candidate. Maybe she wasn't the best at minding politics and optics, but she was damn good at getting positive results and making meaningful change in the lives of the people she swore an oath to protect.

So, yes… she wanted it. In fact, she'd almost convinced herself that the position was already hers. This was a huge opportunity for her and her career, but it was also a profound opportunity for women — not to mention women in government. Irrefutably, being extended the chance to make history was damn near exhilarating.

Just then, she halted, stopping her rummage through her kitchen linen draw. "Oh my god…" She said lowly, surprise and relief in her voice. "I found them." She pulled a package of coffee filters out from the draw. They had been hiding between some clean dish cloths all along.

Without wasting another second, Prentiss pulled a filter from the package, scooped some grounds into the filter's crinkly shape and put the grounds into her machine. All she needed now, was to add water.

Swiftly, Emily reached for the glass pot. However, when she grabbed it, her grasp was not as tight as she presumed. And as she whipped around to bring the pot to the kitchen faucet, the handle slipped from her grip. The coffee pot landed on the ground in a mess of shattered pieces.

For a moment she just stood there. Still and calm, she simply gazed at the glittery fragments now splayed all over her kitchen floor. But as Emily continued to stand there, looking at the broken pieces, it strangely felt like something also broke inside of her. And where she usually had enough emotional tape to desperately package and push that awful feeling back down, the roll was empty. A few tears started to slip down her cheeks. She angrily wiped them away, and then bent over to meticulously clean up the glass.

Without saying anything, Andrew kneeled down to help her. Together they both cleaned up the pieces of the broken pot, nothing but the scraping sound of glass against tile passing between them. When the last piece left on the floor was a larger shard, Emily reached for it, but Andrew caught her hand, and held it tenderly in his own.

"I need to— " She started.

"You need to let this out." He insisted.

Emily scoffed, "What do you want me to say? I wanted it, I lost it. I'll get over it and be fine."

Mendoza shook his head,"You don't have to be fine, though..."

Emily released an exasperated breath. Sometimes she was secretly unnerved by how well he could read her. Not that uncharacteristic tears and frustration with her cabinetry were hard to read. But to that effect, it was hard — so very hard to have someone around when she didn't want to acknowledge the things that caused her pain and aggravation. Andrew was steady, and his patience was unyielding and because of this, she knew he wasn't planning on letting go of her hand until she talked. So she sat down on the floor, and leaned back against one of the lower cabinets.

"I'm frustrated." She admitted reluctantly,"And a little pissed. And… I can't help feeling like I let myself down, or that I somehow did others a disservice by not being able to pursue that position."

"Okay…" Andrew spoke evenly, "I know you don't need me to tell you that you're being hard on yourself, but Emily… you're being hard on yourself."

"I know I am." She arched her brow at him,"I guess I'm just… coming to terms with everything."

"Well, Director Emily Prentiss does have a nice ring to it." Andrew grinned.

Emily choked up a laugh,"It does, doesn't it?"

Mendoza watched as Emily's smile did as it did before, her face sinking into a secret sadness. She put her finger to her lip, and bit at her nail. Something he'd only seen her do a handful of times since they'd been together — and that was mostly because she'd usually pick at them instead. But seeing as he had her other hand held captive in his own, biting it was.

"So what are you going to do?" He asked.

Her hand fell to her lap, "Honestly, I thought about appealing, but I think that staying in the unit is the right choice."

"Yea?"

"Mmhmm…" She hummed, her expression affected with contemplation as she worked through her plans in real time. With an active case underway, there had hardly been any time for her to pause and consider her next steps,"Though, I have to admit I do need a little change— I'm craving it, actually. Which is maybe why I got so excited about the chance to be Director. I'm just not used to sitting in one place for so long."

And she wasn't. It was something they had talked about when they first started dating. Every so often, Emily liked a change of pace, a change in atmosphere or work. She needed her daily routine to challenge her and keep her on her toes. It had a lot to do with how she grew up, and moved around a lot. And a little bit to do with her fear of settling for less or getting too comfortable — which itself was probably some kind of conditioned response to the way her mother was always in her ear when she was younger, always telling her to do better than the next person and to excel.

Regardless of the psychoanalytical reason, she wanted a little bit of a career change. But perhaps now wasn't the right time. Losing the Director position had to be a sign that she still had work to do where she was. At least, that's what she'd been telling herself to soothe her conflicted conscience.

"I know what I want, but I also know that I don't need to be anywhere except where I'm supposed to be." She said solidly,"And right now, I have to believe that I'm doing the most good by staying at the BAU with my team."

Mendoza's eyes dazzled,"You are so amazing, you know that?"

If he hadn't just spoke, the man could swear he'd be at a loss for words. There was so much to appreciate about Emily Prentiss. Time and time again her wisdom and her heart to serve others amazed him. To have this kind of care and self-sacrifice exhibited day in and day out was absolutely unheard of, and yet the embodiment of it was sitting right here with him. And while changing her mind or eventually deciding to do something a little less altruistic was to be expected (if not completely deserved), her current mode of selflessness was something to behold.

"I do know I'm amazing." She boasted, allowing the ego fluff, then shifted around on the floor,"You going to let me pick up this glass now?"

Emily pointed at the last shard awaiting it's advent to the trash bin. Having successfully seen to it that she didn't bury her grievances or continue to search aimlessly for misplaced coffee bar items, Mendoza gently released her hand. But not before giving it a little squeeze.

"Do whatcha gotta do." He said.

Pulling away from him, Prentiss rose to her knees, picked up the shard and expertly tossed it into the waste bin behind her. The task was finished, but it only offered her a small sense of completion. So she turned back to Andrew, who was still leaning against the cabinets, and sought the moment's true closure.

Crawling over to him on the structure of her aging bones, and kneeling between his legs, Emily leaned in close to place a kiss on his lips. At first, it was subtle and affectionate, then with a single inhale, it spiked in intensity and became a little more passionate. The two connected, deepening the sensuality, but were curiously careful not to let it slip into foreplay. Then, she broke away.

Mendoza slowly opened his eyes, and reached across to the small distance to caress her face, his thumb stroking the outline of her jaw.

"What was that for?" He asked, a mesmerized twinkle in his eye.

"It was a thank you..." Emily said, her voice just above a whisper.

As much as she was loathe to admit it, talking things out like this had been helpful. It didn't completely erase the sting of not being Director, but it did immeasurably relieve the some of the stress she was feeling surrounding the situation. If anyone had to share in her loss and be alongside her through her resentment, she was glad it could be him.

"Plus, I just like you a little bit." She added.

Mendoza crinkled his nose, "I like you a little bit, too."

"Good!" She burst, and sat up a little straighter,"Now let's get off the floor, my knees are starting to hurt."

Mendoza snickered but then instantly agreed. Sitting on the hard tile floor was starting to do funky things to the alignment in his back. These moments were worth it, but they certainly didn't have the durability of teenagers anymore.

Emily was the first on her feet, and he was right behind her. Once they were off the ground, the couple migrated from the kitchen to the living room. And as the unit chief attended to her homework, Mendoza stayed by her side with a novel in hand, the two of them remaining close as they finished off their late, late evening.

A/N: Truthfully, this started off as a one-shot, but I've started getting big ideas sooo. Anyways, soon it'll be a collection of Prendoza moments because I like them and 4 episodes of content wasn't nearly enough. If y'all can think of any moments that you like to read about — let me knOOWW, leeeeet me KnOooW and I'll do my best to write what we wanna read. Til next time! xoxo