Author's Note #1: I promise you, I don't want you to make me any digital art so please stop messaging me and asking.

Chicago was a blur of smoke, silence, and sirens.

In a city where noise was life, the stillness was eerie. Traffic lights flickered pointlessly. Cell phones became paperweights. Radios hissed into static. The team split into pairs, moving like ghosts through blocked-off streets and fractured transit stations.

Emily crouched behind a rusted support beam with JJ, watching the controlled detonation of what looked like an abandoned backpack wedged beneath a bus bench. Her fingers brushed JJ's in a moment of instinct—brief, grounding.

"Still just lunch buddies, huh?" JJ murmured, lips twitching despite the tension radiating off her.

Emily exhaled a humorless laugh. "Reid knows."

"Reid always knows."

They exchanged a look that said: We'll talk about it later. Then the explosion rocked the street. Controlled, contained—but loud enough to echo.

72 hours later

Back at Quantico, they moved through the building like shadows of themselves—exhausted, smoky, hollowed out. Eight explosions, dozens injured, and four confirmed deaths. The suspect—a former radio technician with a military past and a grudge against city planning—was in custody.

Garcia practically collapsed into her chair, muttering something about kissing her servers. Spencer nursed a burn on his hand. Derek had a voicemail from his mother that he hadn't deleted yet, just so he could hear her voice again.

Hotch gave a brief nod in the conference room. "Debrief tomorrow. Go home. Rest."

Emily hovered in the hallway outside JJ's office, paper cup of lukewarm coffee in hand. When JJ finally emerged, she didn't say anything at first—just leaned into Emily's side and closed her eyes.

"Come over?" JJ asked softly.

Emily nodded. "Yeah. You cooking?"

JJ cracked a smile. "Only if you want boxed mac and cheese and regret."

They walked out together. This time, there were no blinds closed. No secrets. Just the weight of the last few days pressing them closer, not pushing them apart.

The chill outside felt different than Illinois snow—damp and biting, with a kind of grayness that sank into your bones. But Emily barely noticed.

Her focus had narrowed to the woman now sitting across from her, cheeks pink from the wind, chin propped in one palm as she picked lazily at a croissant.

JJ looked up and caught her gaze. "You're staring," she said, half-teasing.

"I know," Emily replied, not bothering to hide it.

JJ's smile widened, but there was a shyness to it too—like she was still trying on the idea that Emily Prentiss could look at her like this, and mean it.

They were sitting in a small French café on the corner near Emily's place—somewhere quiet, somewhere they could sit without fear of eyes watching too closely. They'd managed to avoid bumping into coworkers for three whole days, trading in their FBI suits for sweaters and jeans, brunch dates and long, meandering walks through Georgetown.

JJ sipped her coffee, eyes thoughtful. "This is weird, right?"

"What, the croissants?"

"No," JJ laughed, setting her cup down. "This. Us. This whole… girlfriend thing."

Emily leaned forward on her elbows, suddenly serious. "Is it bad weird?"

"No," JJ said quickly. "No, not bad. Just… new. Like I keep forgetting I'm allowed to hold your hand now. And kiss you in broad daylight." Her voice dropped a little. "I like it. A lot."

Emily's voice was soft. "So do I."

A beat passed between them—warm, full of unspoken promises—and then JJ reached across the table, palm up. Emily didn't hesitate. She laced their fingers together, thumb brushing lightly along JJ's.

"Tell me something you're afraid of," JJ said, out of nowhere, her tone light, but curious.

Emily blinked. "Besides this being a dream and me waking up to Strauss assigning me a triple homicide in Ohio?"

JJ gave her a look.

Emily smiled faintly. "I guess… I'm afraid of screwing this up. Of getting too happy and letting my guard down. I'm good at walls, JJ. I'm not always great at… letting people love me."

JJ squeezed her hand. "Good news. I'm very persistent."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Emily said, grinning.

Later that afternoon, they ended up on Emily's couch, wrapped in a blanket, half-watching a movie neither of them could remember the name of. JJ had kicked off her shoes, toes tucked beneath Emily's thigh, while Emily rested her head against JJ's shoulder. It was quiet, and warm, and for the first time in a long time, Emily wasn't thinking about consequences. She was just… there.

When JJ turned toward her, eyes bright and questioning, Emily didn't need to ask what she was thinking. Their lips met—gentle at first, then deeper, more certain. JJ's hands framed Emily's face like something precious, like something she wasn't quite ready to let go of yet.

And Emily, for once, didn't flinch from it.

She let herself feel everything.

JJ pulled back first, lips still grazing Emily's, her breath soft against her cheek.

Emily opened her eyes slowly. "You keep doing that," she murmured.

"Doing what?"

"Kissing me like you're trying to rewire my nervous system."

JJ smiled. "Maybe I am."

Emily slid a hand into JJ's hair, fingertips stroking the soft blonde strands as JJ shifted, settling herself fully into Emily's lap. Their legs tangled easily, like they'd done this a dozen times before—which they had—and still, the electricity between them was anything but routine.

"Not that I'm complaining," Emily said, trailing her lips down JJ's jaw. "But you're supposed to be watching the movie."

JJ made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan. "We've watched plenty of movies this week."

"Mmm. Is that what we're calling it?"

JJ grinned and leaned forward to kiss her again—slower this time, more exploratory, like she wasn't just touching Emily's body but remembering it. Mapping out familiar curves and revisiting them with the kind of tenderness that made Emily feel like she was being worshipped, not just loved.

Their kisses deepened. Hands slid under shirts and traced over bare skin, familiar but still thrilling. JJ's thumb brushed lightly along the line of Emily's ribs, and Emily felt the ache start to build—the kind that came from loving someone with every part of you, inside and out.

Emily tilted her head back, offering more of her throat. "You planning on keeping this PG?"

JJ nipped at her neck gently. "I think we passed PG about twelve kisses ago."

Emily laughed, husky and low. "Good."

Moments later, they disappeared into the bedroom—clothes half-on, half-off, laughter and heat trailing behind them like footprints in the snow. There was no hesitation in their touches, no awkward fumbling—just skin against skin, the quiet rhythm of breath, the kind of intimacy that came from knowing a person deeply and choosing them again and again.

When it was over—when they were tangled in sheets and warmth and each other—JJ curled into Emily's side, pressing a kiss just over her heart.

Emily threaded her fingers through JJ's hair. "This feels like… everything."

JJ shifted just enough to meet her eyes. "That's because it is."

They lay like that for a long while, the outside world forgotten.

"I love you, you know," JJ said quietly, almost like she was saying it for the first time.

Emily smiled, eyes closed, arms wrapped tight around her. "I know. I love you, too."

Wrapped in the quiet afterglow, JJ lay nestled against Emily's side, her fingers lazily tracing the curve of Emily's hip beneath the sheets. Emily, eyes half-lidded and utterly content, was drifting somewhere between consciousness and sleep.

Neither of them spoke.

They didn't need to.

That was, of course, until JJ's phone buzzed on the nightstand, screen lighting up with cartoon hearts and sparkles.

JJ groaned without lifting her head. "If that's Morgan, I'm blocking him."

Emily stretched just enough to snag the phone. "Nope. It's your other girlfriend."

JJ raised a brow. "Garcia?"

"Who else uses eight heart emojis and a unicorn in one text?"

JJ sighed and reached for the phone, cracking one eye open.

Penelope
Sooo... how's my favorite secret couple? Have you two emerged from your love cave or should I send provisions? Also, I had a dream about you both last night. It involved whipped cream and an alpaca. I don't know what it means, but I feel like it's important.

Emily snorted. "Is that her version of checking in?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

JJ started typing a reply with one hand, while the other stayed tucked against Emily's waist: We're alive. Barely. No alpacas. Will explain later. Maybe.

Seconds later:

Penelope
Ugh, you're the worst. Also the cutest. I want a FULL report. Tell Prentiss I expect her to make honest women out of us both.

Emily peeked at the message over JJ's shoulder. "That's a lot of pressure for a Tuesday."

JJ chuckled, tossed the phone back onto the nightstand, and curled back into her place beneath Emily's arm.

"She's not wrong," she murmured sleepily. "About us being the cutest."

Emily pressed her lips to JJ's temple. "She might be crazy, but she's also not wrong about the 'honest woman' part either."

JJ froze, then looked up slowly. "Yeah?"

Emily shrugged, cool as ever, but her eyes gave her away—soft, smitten, serious. "Just sayin'. Could be nice. Someday."

JJ's whole face softened. She smiled against Emily's skin and closed her eyes.

"Someday sounds perfect."

Author's Note #2: I am still very much a review junkie, so please, if you're still reading then say something because that's what is going to keep me going.