Elysium, 15/21
Title: Elysium
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: They thought that it was only going to be one night. They were wrong. An unexpected pregnancy leads Emily and Derek to reevaluate their lives.
Author’s Note: Thank-you, to whoever nominated this for Best Work-In-Progress at the Criminal Minds Fanfiction Awards. There’s a lot of great stuff to read, and you should all check it out. Link here - time is almost out.
Chapter Fourteen
The first day, the house was a mess.
Both Emily and Derek had the day off, so that they could even just begin to start sorting through the boxes and furniture and creepy-crawlies that had decided to take up residence in their possessions. For the first few minutes after waking, Morgan had been somewhat sullen, when he realized just what he’d missed out on by falling asleep the previous night.
‘I’ll make it up to you,’ Emily promised; it wasn’t as though excessive sex was a chore, these days. She really did enjoy it. Whether the same could be said after the birth of her child was another matter altogether. The (somewhat pathetic) truth of it was that she’d never really been in a relationship long enough for long periods of daily sex to have become a thing.
At around eleven a.m, the doorbell rang - it was a standard chime, and Emily wondered whether she could persuade Morgan into installing one that played the Imperial March. ‘Can you get that?’ Emily called out, not quite sure where Morgan was, exactly. She would have gotten the door herself, only pregnancy made her pee a lot, and she was pretty sure that whoever was at the door didn’t want to wait for her to finish.
‘Yeah,’ Morgan called back, from somewhere in the kitchen.
Covered in the dirt of their toil, Emily took a few minutes to scrub her hands clean, even though she knew that they would only be getting dirty again.
Upon investigating the identity of their visitor, Emily found Morgan engaged in conversation with a man in his late fifties, who had a leashed Doberman with him, sniffing the doorstep.
A bark from the backyard alerted Emily to the fact that Clooney was very much aware of their latest visitor.
‘Em, this is Frank,’ Morgan said, as she walked up behind him.
‘Hi,’ Emily smiled, and shook Frank’s hand. Despite his age, his body well-formed; he looked like the kind of guy that had spent his entire life working out. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘You too.’ Frank clicked his fingers, and the Doberman looked up, expectantly. ‘This is Clara. Clara, say hi to Emily.’
Clara lifted up a paw, which Emily shook.
‘Good girl.’ Frank pulled a dog treat from his pocket, which Clara lifted her paw for once more. ‘So Derek was telling me that you’re in the FBI, too?’
Emily nodded. ‘We worked together for about five years,’ she told him. It felt weird, talking about their working relationship in past tense. The fact that she wasn’t with the BAU still hadn’t quite sunk in yet. ‘I’m in Counterintelligence now, which is…different.’
Frank nodded. ‘It’s all good work,’ he said. He nodded towards her stomach. ‘How much longer?’
Emily grimaced. ‘Too long,’ she said.
‘I’d better leave you to your unpacking then,’ Frank said. ‘Nice to meet you, Emily.’
‘Nice guy,’ Emily commented, as Frank and Clara made their way down the driveway to the house across the street. ‘Ex-cop?’
‘Yeah,’ Morgan confirmed. ‘He helped me with some of the electrical work when I was redoing the walls in the basement. Plus, he said he’d keep an eye on Clooney any time we needed dogsitting.’
‘He’s alright hanging around with other dogs?’
‘As long as he knows them, sure,’ Morgan shrugged. ‘I was going to take him over there when we’ve finished sorting the house out, so he can get to know her.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Emily agreed. She put her hands on her hips, and stared out over the sea of boxes. ‘Though I’m not sure this is ever going to be finished.’
It took a fraction under a week.
Not bad, considering the fact that they spent their days at work, and their nights unpacking boxes. Furniture was shifted, with the help of Reid, whose scrawny build was surprisingly strong. Sunday found them living in what could have been described as a family home.
It was the slightest bit incredible.
…
‘Baby girl, I need your help,’ Morgan announced. It was a Friday afternoon, and, for reasons that most likely involved Jack’s school play, Hotch had let them all off early for the day. Morgan had a thought in his head, that he hadn’t been able to let go of in the days since he and Emily had moved in together.
‘Does it involve making our respective lovers incredibly jealous?’
Morgan cracked a smile. ‘Not quite,’ he admitted. ‘I need you to help me buy an engagement ring.’
Garcia perked noticeably at the suggestion - if there was one thing more exiting to her than babies, it was marriage.
‘Seriously?’ she squealed. ‘Seriously?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ he told her, looking over his shoulder. While Emily didn’t exactly work in the BAU, it wasn’t unheard of her to come up on her lunch break to say hi, or offer insight on a consultation. ‘I don’t want to ask just yet, but…I want to be able to, when I’m ready.’ He paused. ‘It’s insane how much I love that woman, Garcia.’
‘It’s not insane,’ she told him frankly. ‘It’s exactly the right amount of sanity. Now get your bag, Derek Morgan. I never thought I’d be able to say this to you, but we are going shopping.’
Morgan had thought that going shopping for a ring would be a simple process.
Three hours later, he realized how absolutely wrong he was.
Each store seemed to want to sell him more extravagant rings; rings with a dozen diamonds so big, he couldn’t even see the band, rings that cost half his yearly salary.
‘At least it’s not the De Beers Platinum,’ Garcia said, after they left the third jewelry store. ‘A ginormous 9 carat diamond ring - costs no less than one point eight three million buckaroos.’
‘On a ring?’ Morgan asked, dumbfounded.
‘Yup. Size does matter, according to the diamond industry. But…’ She gave him a look. ‘Dollars to donuts, Emily Prentiss doesn’t really care about diamond rings.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s just…It kind of makes me feel good to think about her wearing one. Not one of those oversized, overpriced things. Something nice and simple that has some kind of meaning to it, y’know?’
In the fourth store, he found it.
A single diamond inset between a pair of what he presumed to be Celtic knots. Simple and elegant, yet beautiful - a perfect fit.
‘What do you think?’ he asked Garcia, pointing it out.
‘Oh man,’ Garcia said, shaking her head. ‘Emily Prentiss is one lucky woman.’
…
‘Do you like cookies?’ Emily asked him, standing at the pantry door, examining its contents. She was wearing his navy Chicago Bears jersey, looking a damn sight better than he ever had in the thing. She’d pilfered it from his closet after discovering that her own pajamas were too tight to button up over her baby bump. Morgan hadn’t actually worn the jersey in years; not since the last time he’d actually been to a game.
It was a Sunday night, the end of a long, lazy weekend. They’d talked about painting the nursery, but hadn’t quite gotten around to it, the thought punctuated by a long love-making session on the carpeted floor of the room.
‘I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to hate cookies,’ he told her matter-of-factly. Emily shrugged, starting to pull out containers. Living together, there was more than twice food that there had been for either of them living alone. Maybe that was just a side effect of cohabitation, or maybe it was something to do with the pregnancy. Probably both.
He was lying on the sofa, waiting for the game to start. Clooney had been at his feet, but the dog had wandered into the kitchen the moment Emily had, perhaps hoping to trick her into giving him a treat.
‘Do you like cookie dough?’ she amended, twenty minutes later. ‘I honestly don’t feel like cooking these.’
‘Plus, you’d probably burn them,’ he added, thinking of her other ventures into baking.
‘That was one time,’ she said, rolling her eyes, and sliding against him on the sofa, bowl in one hand. ‘I got distracted.’ She offered him the spatula. ‘Dough?’
‘Choc chip?’ Morgan asked, letting the taste sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.
‘Peanut-butter choc chip,’ Emily corrected, returning the spatula to the bowl. Clooney gave a whine, a paw brushing at Emily’s leg. ‘Are you a good boy?’
‘No chocolate for Clooney,’ he reminded her.
‘Yeah, I know.’ She rolled up a ball of dough, making sure that it was free from chocolate chips. The dog swallowed, and then looked up again expectantly.
‘Lie down,’ Morgan commanded, and Clooney gave him a doleful look.
‘It’s amazing how effective those puppy dog eyes can be,’ Emily commented, but didn’t submit to the dog’s pleas.
‘I’m pretty sure that’s why they’re called puppy dog eyes.’
Between them, they managed to devour almost half the dough, but not even Emily’s pregnancy appetite could handle the overabundance of sugar, so the bowl was relocated out of canine reach. The game was on mute, because he wasn’t so much interested in the outcome as he was interested in the woman with whom he had fallen in complete and utter love with.
Whether that had taken four years, or four months, he wasn’t quite sure, but he did know that he was happier than he had been in a long time, and it was all because of her.
‘Will you marry me?’ He hadn’t planned on asking it like this, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Less natural, was the way that she tensed up in his arms. Not the most enthusiastic response.
There was a long, awkward silence.
‘Never mind, then, I guess,’ he said, unable to hide the disappointment from his voice.
Emily struggled to roll over and face him, but the sofa wasn’t all that big, and her stomach wasn’t particularly conducive to dexterity. She sat up instead, and her eyes looked almost sad. ‘Derek, I…This is all going so fast. I mean, eight months ago, we were in a different place altogether, and I mean…I love this - I love you - but…I don’t know if I’m ready to get married.’
He let her words sink in. Not the worst response, but he’d be lying if he said that part of him hadn’t wanted her to break into a wide smile and declare her undying love for him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, finding his hand and gripping it tightly.
‘That’s okay,’ he smiled, trying not to let the disappointment sound in his voice. He was pretty sure he couldn’t fool her, though.
‘It’s not okay.’ She shook her head, eyes starting to swim with tears. ‘I know I’m not helping at all by reacting like this.’
Morgan put on a brave face. ‘How about we make some dinner and forget I ever said anything?’ He was fairly sure that that probably wouldn’t happen. It made him wonder if the entire relationship was just because of the pregnancy. Was there really anything between them?
He wasn’t used to being plagued by such self-doubt.
Not since Emily Prentiss had worked her way into his life.
...
The next day at work, Morgan did his best to avoid Garcia. He hadn’t given her any specifics on exactly when he’d been planning on proposing, but he knew that she’d take one look at him and immediately figure that something had gone down.
He wasn’t wrong, but not for the reasons that he had imagined.
Garcia perched herself on the edge of his desk, a look of pure sympathy plastered on her face. ‘I spoke to Emily last night,’ she explained.
‘Well that makes one of us,’ he said, knowing exactly how bitter he sounded. It wasn’t that either of them had been angry about the situation - upset, maybe, but not angry. Things had just been...awkward. He’d heard horror tales about declined proposals, and yet he never thought it would be him on that end of things.
‘She’s a little confused,’ Garcia told him. ‘But she loves you, Derek - don’t doubt that.’
The words gave him little comfort. Emily had told him that she loved him, and yet she still turned him down. He wasn’t exactly brimming with self-confidence.
‘Give her time,’ Garcia said, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘If it’s meant to be, then things will work out.’
‘What if it’s not?’ he asked.
Garcia didn’t have an answer for that question.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: They thought that it was only going to be one night. They were wrong. An unexpected pregnancy leads Emily and Derek to reevaluate their lives.
Author’s Note: Thank-you, to whoever nominated this for Best Work-In-Progress at the Criminal Minds Fanfiction Awards. There’s a lot of great stuff to read, and you should all check it out. Link here - time is almost out.
Chapter Fourteen
The first day, the house was a mess.
Both Emily and Derek had the day off, so that they could even just begin to start sorting through the boxes and furniture and creepy-crawlies that had decided to take up residence in their possessions. For the first few minutes after waking, Morgan had been somewhat sullen, when he realized just what he’d missed out on by falling asleep the previous night.
‘I’ll make it up to you,’ Emily promised; it wasn’t as though excessive sex was a chore, these days. She really did enjoy it. Whether the same could be said after the birth of her child was another matter altogether. The (somewhat pathetic) truth of it was that she’d never really been in a relationship long enough for long periods of daily sex to have become a thing.
At around eleven a.m, the doorbell rang - it was a standard chime, and Emily wondered whether she could persuade Morgan into installing one that played the Imperial March. ‘Can you get that?’ Emily called out, not quite sure where Morgan was, exactly. She would have gotten the door herself, only pregnancy made her pee a lot, and she was pretty sure that whoever was at the door didn’t want to wait for her to finish.
‘Yeah,’ Morgan called back, from somewhere in the kitchen.
Covered in the dirt of their toil, Emily took a few minutes to scrub her hands clean, even though she knew that they would only be getting dirty again.
Upon investigating the identity of their visitor, Emily found Morgan engaged in conversation with a man in his late fifties, who had a leashed Doberman with him, sniffing the doorstep.
A bark from the backyard alerted Emily to the fact that Clooney was very much aware of their latest visitor.
‘Em, this is Frank,’ Morgan said, as she walked up behind him.
‘Hi,’ Emily smiled, and shook Frank’s hand. Despite his age, his body well-formed; he looked like the kind of guy that had spent his entire life working out. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘You too.’ Frank clicked his fingers, and the Doberman looked up, expectantly. ‘This is Clara. Clara, say hi to Emily.’
Clara lifted up a paw, which Emily shook.
‘Good girl.’ Frank pulled a dog treat from his pocket, which Clara lifted her paw for once more. ‘So Derek was telling me that you’re in the FBI, too?’
Emily nodded. ‘We worked together for about five years,’ she told him. It felt weird, talking about their working relationship in past tense. The fact that she wasn’t with the BAU still hadn’t quite sunk in yet. ‘I’m in Counterintelligence now, which is…different.’
Frank nodded. ‘It’s all good work,’ he said. He nodded towards her stomach. ‘How much longer?’
Emily grimaced. ‘Too long,’ she said.
‘I’d better leave you to your unpacking then,’ Frank said. ‘Nice to meet you, Emily.’
‘Nice guy,’ Emily commented, as Frank and Clara made their way down the driveway to the house across the street. ‘Ex-cop?’
‘Yeah,’ Morgan confirmed. ‘He helped me with some of the electrical work when I was redoing the walls in the basement. Plus, he said he’d keep an eye on Clooney any time we needed dogsitting.’
‘He’s alright hanging around with other dogs?’
‘As long as he knows them, sure,’ Morgan shrugged. ‘I was going to take him over there when we’ve finished sorting the house out, so he can get to know her.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Emily agreed. She put her hands on her hips, and stared out over the sea of boxes. ‘Though I’m not sure this is ever going to be finished.’
It took a fraction under a week.
Not bad, considering the fact that they spent their days at work, and their nights unpacking boxes. Furniture was shifted, with the help of Reid, whose scrawny build was surprisingly strong. Sunday found them living in what could have been described as a family home.
It was the slightest bit incredible.
…
‘Baby girl, I need your help,’ Morgan announced. It was a Friday afternoon, and, for reasons that most likely involved Jack’s school play, Hotch had let them all off early for the day. Morgan had a thought in his head, that he hadn’t been able to let go of in the days since he and Emily had moved in together.
‘Does it involve making our respective lovers incredibly jealous?’
Morgan cracked a smile. ‘Not quite,’ he admitted. ‘I need you to help me buy an engagement ring.’
Garcia perked noticeably at the suggestion - if there was one thing more exiting to her than babies, it was marriage.
‘Seriously?’ she squealed. ‘Seriously?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ he told her, looking over his shoulder. While Emily didn’t exactly work in the BAU, it wasn’t unheard of her to come up on her lunch break to say hi, or offer insight on a consultation. ‘I don’t want to ask just yet, but…I want to be able to, when I’m ready.’ He paused. ‘It’s insane how much I love that woman, Garcia.’
‘It’s not insane,’ she told him frankly. ‘It’s exactly the right amount of sanity. Now get your bag, Derek Morgan. I never thought I’d be able to say this to you, but we are going shopping.’
Morgan had thought that going shopping for a ring would be a simple process.
Three hours later, he realized how absolutely wrong he was.
Each store seemed to want to sell him more extravagant rings; rings with a dozen diamonds so big, he couldn’t even see the band, rings that cost half his yearly salary.
‘At least it’s not the De Beers Platinum,’ Garcia said, after they left the third jewelry store. ‘A ginormous 9 carat diamond ring - costs no less than one point eight three million buckaroos.’
‘On a ring?’ Morgan asked, dumbfounded.
‘Yup. Size does matter, according to the diamond industry. But…’ She gave him a look. ‘Dollars to donuts, Emily Prentiss doesn’t really care about diamond rings.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s just…It kind of makes me feel good to think about her wearing one. Not one of those oversized, overpriced things. Something nice and simple that has some kind of meaning to it, y’know?’
In the fourth store, he found it.
A single diamond inset between a pair of what he presumed to be Celtic knots. Simple and elegant, yet beautiful - a perfect fit.
‘What do you think?’ he asked Garcia, pointing it out.
‘Oh man,’ Garcia said, shaking her head. ‘Emily Prentiss is one lucky woman.’
…
‘Do you like cookies?’ Emily asked him, standing at the pantry door, examining its contents. She was wearing his navy Chicago Bears jersey, looking a damn sight better than he ever had in the thing. She’d pilfered it from his closet after discovering that her own pajamas were too tight to button up over her baby bump. Morgan hadn’t actually worn the jersey in years; not since the last time he’d actually been to a game.
It was a Sunday night, the end of a long, lazy weekend. They’d talked about painting the nursery, but hadn’t quite gotten around to it, the thought punctuated by a long love-making session on the carpeted floor of the room.
‘I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to hate cookies,’ he told her matter-of-factly. Emily shrugged, starting to pull out containers. Living together, there was more than twice food that there had been for either of them living alone. Maybe that was just a side effect of cohabitation, or maybe it was something to do with the pregnancy. Probably both.
He was lying on the sofa, waiting for the game to start. Clooney had been at his feet, but the dog had wandered into the kitchen the moment Emily had, perhaps hoping to trick her into giving him a treat.
‘Do you like cookie dough?’ she amended, twenty minutes later. ‘I honestly don’t feel like cooking these.’
‘Plus, you’d probably burn them,’ he added, thinking of her other ventures into baking.
‘That was one time,’ she said, rolling her eyes, and sliding against him on the sofa, bowl in one hand. ‘I got distracted.’ She offered him the spatula. ‘Dough?’
‘Choc chip?’ Morgan asked, letting the taste sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.
‘Peanut-butter choc chip,’ Emily corrected, returning the spatula to the bowl. Clooney gave a whine, a paw brushing at Emily’s leg. ‘Are you a good boy?’
‘No chocolate for Clooney,’ he reminded her.
‘Yeah, I know.’ She rolled up a ball of dough, making sure that it was free from chocolate chips. The dog swallowed, and then looked up again expectantly.
‘Lie down,’ Morgan commanded, and Clooney gave him a doleful look.
‘It’s amazing how effective those puppy dog eyes can be,’ Emily commented, but didn’t submit to the dog’s pleas.
‘I’m pretty sure that’s why they’re called puppy dog eyes.’
Between them, they managed to devour almost half the dough, but not even Emily’s pregnancy appetite could handle the overabundance of sugar, so the bowl was relocated out of canine reach. The game was on mute, because he wasn’t so much interested in the outcome as he was interested in the woman with whom he had fallen in complete and utter love with.
Whether that had taken four years, or four months, he wasn’t quite sure, but he did know that he was happier than he had been in a long time, and it was all because of her.
‘Will you marry me?’ He hadn’t planned on asking it like this, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Less natural, was the way that she tensed up in his arms. Not the most enthusiastic response.
There was a long, awkward silence.
‘Never mind, then, I guess,’ he said, unable to hide the disappointment from his voice.
Emily struggled to roll over and face him, but the sofa wasn’t all that big, and her stomach wasn’t particularly conducive to dexterity. She sat up instead, and her eyes looked almost sad. ‘Derek, I…This is all going so fast. I mean, eight months ago, we were in a different place altogether, and I mean…I love this - I love you - but…I don’t know if I’m ready to get married.’
He let her words sink in. Not the worst response, but he’d be lying if he said that part of him hadn’t wanted her to break into a wide smile and declare her undying love for him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, finding his hand and gripping it tightly.
‘That’s okay,’ he smiled, trying not to let the disappointment sound in his voice. He was pretty sure he couldn’t fool her, though.
‘It’s not okay.’ She shook her head, eyes starting to swim with tears. ‘I know I’m not helping at all by reacting like this.’
Morgan put on a brave face. ‘How about we make some dinner and forget I ever said anything?’ He was fairly sure that that probably wouldn’t happen. It made him wonder if the entire relationship was just because of the pregnancy. Was there really anything between them?
He wasn’t used to being plagued by such self-doubt.
Not since Emily Prentiss had worked her way into his life.
...
The next day at work, Morgan did his best to avoid Garcia. He hadn’t given her any specifics on exactly when he’d been planning on proposing, but he knew that she’d take one look at him and immediately figure that something had gone down.
He wasn’t wrong, but not for the reasons that he had imagined.
Garcia perched herself on the edge of his desk, a look of pure sympathy plastered on her face. ‘I spoke to Emily last night,’ she explained.
‘Well that makes one of us,’ he said, knowing exactly how bitter he sounded. It wasn’t that either of them had been angry about the situation - upset, maybe, but not angry. Things had just been...awkward. He’d heard horror tales about declined proposals, and yet he never thought it would be him on that end of things.
‘She’s a little confused,’ Garcia told him. ‘But she loves you, Derek - don’t doubt that.’
The words gave him little comfort. Emily had told him that she loved him, and yet she still turned him down. He wasn’t exactly brimming with self-confidence.
‘Give her time,’ Garcia said, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘If it’s meant to be, then things will work out.’
‘What if it’s not?’ he asked.
Garcia didn’t have an answer for that question.