It was suspiciously quiet when Emily got out of the bath. JJ had promised to watch Henry and Jayde for a quick while, but when Emily emerged from the bathroom, JJ was asleep on the couch...and the children were alarmingly silent.
"Jayde?" she called out. "Henry?"
A giggle.
Sighing, Emily followed the laughter into the bedroom...where she found a small hole punched through the wall.
"What the f-" She caught herself before the curse fell from her lips. "...fruitcake," she finished lamely. "What did you two do!?"
"Nofing!" Henry immediately insisted.
But Jayde broke down, flinging herself into her mother's arms, sobbing. "Mama!" she wailed. "Sorry, Mama!"
The story, as best she could suss out, was that they'd been playing some sort of game involving hitting matchbox cars with a book used like a tennis racquet. Apparently, Henry had Herculean strength because he missed the car and broke through the drywall.
Emily wanted to be furious, but it was an accident and they were kids...all she had to do was fix it before their landlord saw the hole.
And therein lay the problem...
Emily stared from her phone screen to the hardware store display and back. "Jesus Christ," she muttered. "Why do you need a fucking engineering degree to repair drywall?"
Then, as luck would have it, a familiar voice called out nearby, "Emily? Hey!"
Looking up sharply, Emily's eyes widened. "Oh... Hi, Derek." She attempted a smile, hoped it looked more real than it felt.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "You don't seem like the DIY type..." He paused, winced. "No offence."
"What makes you say that?" she asked. "The fact that I'm staring at this wall of spackle like it's a theoretical physics equation? Or is it just because I'm a dumb stripper?"
He held up his hands in self-defence. "No, I only said that because your basket is full of the wrong materials for your project which, judging by your phone screen, is repairing drywall."
"Oh," she said, voice quiet and meek. "So, what? Do you like moonlight as a carpenter or something?"
He laughed. "I offer my handyman services to low-income families pro bono," he said with a shrug. "My dad taught me how to fix things."
"Is this the part where you play the hero by offering to help me?" she asked.
"Well, I might start by offering to help you buy the right supplies," he said.
She huffed. "Fine. But that's all the help I need," she insisted.
He smirked, winked. "Give me your phone."
She raised a brow. "Why?" She pulled her phone from her pocket, held it out.
He was already programming his number into her phone. "Just in case your drywall project goes awry."
"I'm not your damsel in distress, you know?" she snapped to cover what felt like a too soft smile at the gesture.
In spite of her best attempts – and about seventeen Youtube videos on the subject of drywall repair that she'd watched – by late afternoon, all Emily had managed to accomplish was use all the swears she knew...and somehow make the hole even bigger than it had been to start with. (She was quite grateful JJ had taken the kids to the park because she really didn't want to be responsible for teaching Jayde and Henry her colourful vocabulary.)
It was with great reluctance and a grim expression that she finally gave in and pulled her phone from her pocket, dialing Derek.
"Hello?" Derek answered breathlessly.
"Hi. It's... It's Emily," she stammered, silently cursing her sudden lack of eloquence. "Am I calling at a bad time?" she asked, finding her tongue. "You're breathing awfully hard..."
"It's not what you're thinking," he said on a burst of laughter. "I'm just out for a run."
A pause. "Oh. I didn't realize you were a runner..."
His smirk was practically audible over the phone. "Hey, I don't keep my body so fantastically fit just sitting around... But I'm guessing you didn't call to stroke my ego."
She rolled her eyes. "You wish." She paused to swallow down her pride. "I... I need your help."
"You do?" he asked, clearly surprised. "I mean, how can I help?"
With a sigh, she said, "Let's just say, my drywall repair project isn't going exactly according to plan. Much to my chagrin."
A beat.
"Alright, text me your address."
She huffed. "You can wipe that grin off your face – I can see it from here. The only reason I'm calling you is because you're the cheapest solution."
Derek stood in front of the damaged wall, arms crossed over his chest, lips mashed together in a clear attempt to keep laughter from bubbling up. "Did you try to fix it with a hammer?" he asked, struggling to keep a smirk off his face.
She appeared none too pleased by his mirth. "I just followed the instructional Youtube video," she ground out. "You do not get to laugh at me for attempting something I've never done before."
Derek wisely decided not to respond to that and set right to work.
"I don't know what you usually charge for this," she babbled while he worked, "And I probably couldn't afford it anyway...but I will pay you something."
"Don't worry about it," he replied, smiling at her over his shoulder. "Like I told you – pro bono."
Emily Prentiss had never been very good at accepting charity, though, insisting on paying her own way in the world. "I insist," she replied firmly. "If not money, at least let me do something for you. Anything."
He couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face. "Anything, hmm?"
She rolled her eyes. "Your twisted little mind better not be thinking sex right now. I'm not a hooker."
He just laughed. "You're so immature. I would never be so crass. I've got something much better in mind..."
Resting her hand on her hip, she raised a brow, cocked her head. "Do tell..."
"You're going to let me teach you self-defence," he said firmly.
"How... How is that me paying you back?" she asked.
He stopped what he was doing, turning to face her. "The other night when that guy ambushed you outside the club, if I hadn't been there who knows what might've happened. I couldn't live with myself if something were to happen to you that I had the power to prevent."
The strength of his conviction touched some soft part inside of her and all she could do was nod. "Okay," she agreed quietly.