A Sense of Self, Chapter 11
A Sense of Self, Chapter 11: 2007 - Washington, D.C.
Author: Dr. B
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emily/JJ
Rating: FRT
Summary: Being an undercover agent seemed like the obvious choice; Emily had spent her childhood pretending to be someone she wasn’t in order to please her politician parents or to survive always being the new kid at school. After her last undercover assignment, Emily was transferred to the BAU - no cover necessary. As she tries to adjust and simply be herself she realizes that she’s no longer sure who Emily Prentiss really is.
A Sense of Self, Chapter 11: 2007 - Washington, D.C.
Thanks to nikonic for being an awesome beta.
2007 - Washington, D.C.
Emily had just finished setting the table when she heard a knock at the door. It was almost eight-thirty at night, who would be visiting her at this hour?
She looked through the peephole and saw JJ standing outside her door. She didn’t even know that JJ knew where she lived.
Garcia. Not that Emily had told her either, but it was clear that nothing was safe from Garcia’s reach.
Did another case come up? Emily wondered. They just closed the Katie Jacobs case a few hours ago; there was no way they would be getting called so soon. Besides, if it were a case, JJ probably would have just called. Unless it was something serious. Or maybe she was running errands in D.C. and her car broke down.
Before Emily went too far in her analysis, she realized that she was leaving JJ standing out in the hallway.
She opened the door, and as soon as she did, she saw a six-pack of beer in one hand and a paper bag in the other. Emily was relieved that JJ was obviously not there because of a case. Or a broken down car for that matter. She stepped aside to let JJ in.
“Is everything ok?” Emily asked, not understanding why for the second time in two weeks JJ had appeared at her door, beer in hand.
“It’s as ok as it will ever be after a day of chasing a kidnapper who turned out to be the aunt of the victim, whose uncle, said aunt’s husband, has been sexually molesting her for years, unbeknownst to said uncle’s brother and wife who live just three blocks away,” JJ answered, matter-of-factly.
Emily nodded and sighed. It had been a hell of day.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Welcome to my home,” Emily said suddenly realizing that wasn’t a very gracious hostess moment. Her mother would be mortified.
“Thanks,” JJ said, looking around. “You know, I’ve never really thought about what your condo would look like, but now that I’m seeing it, it’s exactly what I would’ve imagined.”
Emily had lived in many houses in her life, but her condo was one of the few that actually felt like home. It was her refuge and not just because of the oversized clawfoot tub in the master bathroom. She smiled shyly, realizing that other than Hotch, JJ was the only member of the team to come over to her place.
“And not only does it look amazing, it smells incredible,” JJ remarked. “Are you cooking something?”
“Rosemary garlic roasted chicken with honey-roasted carrots and Simon and Garfunkel potatoes,” Emily answered. She took the beer from JJ and started walking into the kitchen.
“Simon and Garfunkel potatoes?” JJ asked, following close behind.
“I season them with parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,” Emily informed her. “I thought of calling them Scarborough Fair potatoes, but I prefer to honor the singers, not the song.”
“Sounds delicious,” JJ said. Her eyes got wide. “Oh no, you have company, don’t you? I’m interrupting something.”
Emily shook her head. “Not at all. You’re the only company I have tonight.”
“You really made that whole dinner just for yourself?” JJ seemed floored by the notion.
Emily nodded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. If she only made nice meals when she was eating with someone else, she’d be subsisting on macaroni and cheese and frozen pizza.
“I like to cook,” she said lamely. “We’ve just been on case after case after case lately, which usually means burgers and soggy sandwiches, so I wanted something different. Not to mention the fact that it was a crappy day. So I cooked,” she repeated.
“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” JJ told her. “I can barely work up the enthusiasm to make myself Hamburger Helper, let alone roast a chicken.”
“Have you eaten already?” Emily asked. “Everything should be ready in about…” she turned and glanced at the timer. “…three minutes. Well, thirteen. The chicken has to rest.”
“That sounds amazing,” JJ said. “I brought us a little something to eat, but your dinner kicks my dinner’s ass.”
Emily opened up the paper bag and saw brownies. “This is what you consider dinner?”
“Chocolate happens to pair very well with beer,” JJ defended. “Not to mention I brought this.”
JJ held up her phone.
Emily smiled. “Well, now we have dinner and dessert. And we don’t need that,” she added pointing at JJ’s phone.
At that moment, the timer went off. Emily took the chicken out of the oven and covered it with foil. She turned the oven up to finish the carrots and potatoes. She grabbed a plate and silverware for JJ and set it out on the table. She removed the wine glass from her own place setting and put it back in the cupboard.
“Do you want anything else to drink? Water? Iced tea?” Emily offered.
“Why fill up on something else when there’s beer?” JJ asked as she opened two bottles and handed one to Emily. “This is more of the beer from Colorado. I’m so glad we’re exempt from the three-ounce rule.”
“How much beer did you get?” Emily asked, wondering how she missed JJ lugging boxes of beer onto the plane.
“Two cases,” JJ said nonchalantly. “Morgan and I loaded them on the plane, but you were being all pensive, looking out the window and didn’t notice anything.”
Emily nodded, realizing what she was talking about. Before JJ could make an attempt to bring up their conversation from that plane ride, Emily decided to change the subject.
“Why don’t you sit at the table? Everything will be done in a few minutes,” Emily said, handing JJ her beer.
She pulled out some of her servingware that had been languishing unused in her cabinets since she moved to D.C. As it turned out, not having any friends meant not having any dinner parties. And while she was more than willing to make a four-course meal for herself, she just couldn’t bring herself to use the fancy serving trays to do it.
Emily expertly carved the chicken and arranged everything on the trays. She glanced at JJ, who had obviously been watching her the whole time. Emily’s cheeks flushed again thinking about the feelings that had arisen while she and JJ sipped beers in her hotel room two weeks ago. She decided to wash her hands again just so she could turn away from JJ for a bit while she composed herself. She imagined washing all those feelings down the drain.
She sighed; if only it were that easy.
“That looks amazing,” JJ gushed when Emily brought the trays to the table. “You okay? You look a little flushed.”
“I’ve just been standing next to a four-hundred-and-fifty degree oven. Not only am I flushed, I’m actually sweating a little,” she admitted. “That was probably more information than you needed, wasn’t it?”
“Believe me when I say there is nothing that could spoil my appetite right now.” JJ actually looked as though she might start drooling if Emily didn’t give her the plate with food promptly. No sooner than the plate hit the table, JJ sank her knife and fork into the chicken.
Emily watched in amusement as JJ’s eyes closed and a contented expression made its way across her face.
“Can I come to dinner every night?” JJ asked. “This is… I’m not sure there are enough synonyms for amazing to cover just how delicious this is.”
“Thanks,” Emily said. Even though she was perfectly content cooking just for herself, she had forgotten how nice it felt to cook for someone else. “Although I can’t imagine you’d want to really drive an hour and a half out of your way every night just to eat dinner
here.”
“For food like this, you better believe I would,” JJ said. “It’s simply phenomenal, stupendous, sensational…”
“Now you just sound like you’re reciting from the thesaurus,” Emily joked.
“Superlative,” JJ said in response.
Emily just shook her head, smiling. She remembered JJ’s overly effusive descriptions of the food when they had gone out to lunch her first day at the BAU.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“Whenever my mom was posted somewhere, we always had housekeepers and cooks. Usually I ate dinner with them, and then eventually they started teaching me to cook.”
“That’s sad,” JJ said.
“That I learned to cook?” Emily asked, genuinely confused.
“No, that you ate dinner with your housekeeper or cook,” JJ clarified.
“And my nanny,” Emily added. “Why is that sad? I learned to cook and always had entertaining dinner conversations. It was better than when my parents ate with me where dinner conversations were dominated either by boring discussions of politics or awkward silences. I’m guessing that with your happy family, you ate dinner together, didn’t you?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” JJ said. “But yeah, we ate together most nights. My mom’s cooking couldn’t hold a candle to this meal. I think I learned my Hamburger Helper techniques from her.”
“I guess that’s why they’re called family dinners, not fantastic food dinners,” Emily commented.
“So, what’s up?” Emily asked after a few moments of conversationless eating.
“What do you mean what’s up?” JJ asked, taking more carrots onto her plate.
“I mean…well, first there was the beer in Denver. And well…” Emily let her sentence trail off, realizing it was rude to come out and bluntly ask why are you here?
“You want to know why I keep showing up at your doorstep with beer.” JJ put a forkful of potatoes in her mouth.
Emily felt her cheeks flushing again. “Not that I don’t like beer, or your company. I don’t know… I’m just not used to…”
She stopped herself before she finished the sentence. I’m just not used to having friends. Emily had learned that friendlessness begets friendlessness, so it was probably not the best thing to admit. Other feelings aside, Emily didn’t want to risk losing JJ’s potential friendship.
Emily took a bite of chicken, as though that were an adequate way to complete her thought.
“I don’t have an ulterior motive if that’s what you’re worried about,” JJ said in a light, almost joking tone. The slight furrowing of her eyebrows and downturn of the corners of her lips were the only indication to Emily that the blonde was hurt by her implications.
“Oh, I didn’t think that,” Emily said quickly. Her response was a little too rushed to be completely convincing.
She shook her head. This was obviously not the conversation JJ came over to have; it wasn’t even one that Emily wanted to have.
“I’m sorry,” Emily said. “The last few months have been…”
She paused, searching for the right word. “Hard.”
“That’s why I’m here. I walked through my door this evening, and all I could think about was how horrible the world is,” JJ said with a shrug. “And I couldn’t stand the idea of sitting there thinking about that by myself. So I came to see you.”
Emily nodded. “I’m flattered that I’m one you want to think about that with.”
JJ gave her a strange look, causing her to add, “That sounded sarcastic. It wasn’t.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I haven’t really made many friends since moving here. Clearly I’m out of practice,” Emily said. Any friends, was more accurate. She felt her cheeks flush again.
“That’s why I brought the beer,” JJ said. “It’s a good communication liaison.”
Emily smiled. “I suppose if you got the journalists hammered before a press conference, they might be more docile.”
“Or more hostile,” JJ pointed out. “It depends on how much we give them.”
“Well, it’s not as though some of those press conferences don’t end up like bar fights anyway.”
JJ sighed. “We’re getting too close to talking about work. Did you live in D.C. growing up?” she asked, abruptly switching topics.
“Sort-of. My parents own a house in Arlington, which is where we stayed whenever we were in the States between assignments. We lived there until I was four. Then my mother got posted in Bulgaria, so we moved there when I was in kindergarten.”
It was amazing that the mere mention of the words Bulgaria and kindergarten was still enough to turn Emily’s stomach.
JJ cocked her head to the side. “Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?” Emily was genuinely confused.
“Whenever you talk about Bulgaria you get this look on your face like you just smelled a pile of rotting garbage,” JJ explained. “You did the same thing when we were talking at lunch that first day.”
Emily was taken aback by JJ’s observations. First and foremost that she had made them in the first place and secondly that she remembered Emily’s facial expressions from a year ago. She had never discussed that day in kindergarten to anyone. In her mind, that day had been the one where Emily was marked to be a friendless outcast for the rest of her life.
“Well, it’s not really the best dinner table story,” Emily prefaced.
JJ shrugged, taking another bite of potato. “How many times have we talked about rape and murder while eating?”
It was a hard point to argue.
“When I was in Bulgaria, I went to public school, so I wasn’t allowed to speak English. Only Bulgarian. Which was fine because I learned it pretty quickly,” Emily said shrugging. She decided to not add that her impetus was being teased mercilessly and not understanding what they were saying.
“One day, uh, we were practicing reading on the carpet, and my stomach had been hurting all day. It just kept getting worse, and I was pretty sure I was going to throw up. I tried to ask the teacher if I could be excused to go to the bathroom, but since I wasn’t feeling good and because things were getting sort-of urgent I couldn’t remember how to ask in Bulgarian.” Emily took a deep breath.
“So I asked in English and everyone started laughing and the teacher yelled at me, and then I threw up all over myself and Ivan Todorov,” Emily said, sliding her hand over her stomach. “When I say it out loud like that, it seems ridiculous that more than thirty years later it still bothers me.”
JJ’s face softened. “We can’t control how situations affect us. Obviously it was a huge deal at the time and so it still matters. What happened next?”
“I started crying, Ivan punched me, and I was sent to the principal’s office. My nanny took me home, and my mother was angry with me,” Emily listed quickly.
“Why was your mom mad at you?” JJ asked indignantly. “You were five! And sick!”
“It’s complicated.” Emily said, not wanting to get into the whole over-eating to please her parents part of the story. She did everything she could to keep her father from being displeased with her, but it didn’t matter because he never took her out on another father-daughter excursion again. All in all, it was a story made up of nothing but layers of humiliation and disappointment.
Every time she thought about that day, first her body remembered the nausea and embarrassment of throwing up in front of the entire class. Then her mind remembered that her happiness about her trip to the zoo with her father only compounded the shame she felt for disappointing him and angering her mother. She took a bite of potatoes trying to get her mind and body to move to another subject.
“Why do you do that?” Just like the first time JJ asked, Emily had no idea what she was doing to prompt that question.
“Well, why do you keep doing that?” Emily retorted. The words came out more harshly than she had intended.
JJ looked taken aback. “What?”
“Ask me why I’m doing what I’m doing when I have no idea what I’m doing that’s making you ask me why I’m doing it.” To mask how defensive she felt, Emily forced her tone of voice to stay light, almost as though she were joking.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. I just notice that when we talk you have certain things you always do. Like you looking like you’re going to vomit when you say Bulgaria, which makes sense now.” JJ said. “And when you talk about yourself, it’s like you give out a little bit of information, and then you stop abruptly and change the subject.”
“So you’re profiling me?” Emily asked.
“No,” JJ said quickly. “Well, I guess so, yeah.”
Emily shook her head. “Please don’t.”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that you’re so hard to read sometimes. I mean, as a friend.” JJ spoke hesitantly, like she was having trouble figuring out exactly how to say what she wanted to say.
Emily wished she hadn’t asked. If JJ thought that about her, what must the rest of the team think? Once again the phrase frigid bitch tumbled into her mind. She thought of Sophie, who was the one who had shouted those words at Emily before storming out of her apartment. It was the last passionate thing that Sophie ever said to her. The next day Emily was given the talk that started with, we need to talk. And then continued with, this just isn’t working. I’m not getting what I need from this relationship. You’re not good enough for me. To be fair, Sophie hadn’t said that last part, but it rang in Emily’s ears nonetheless.
“Shit, Emily, I’m sorry,” JJ said, the regret written across her face. “I didn’t mean to…”
“You didn’t,” Emily said, realizing that she must have let her facial expression give her away while she was lost in her memory of her fight with Sophie. Emily tried to salvage things remembering some of the manners lessons that her mother had instilled on her. Never let a guest feel uncomfortable. It is your job as host to do everything in your power to keep that from happening. Their comfort is more important than yours.
“I did. I showed up at your doorstep uninvited, forced myself on you as a dinner guest, and now I’ve insulted you and hurt your feelings,” JJ insisted. She put down her knife and fork and wiped her mouth with her napkin.
“Wait, JJ, don’t.” Emily took in a deep breath, noticing that JJ was halfway to standing up and leaving. “I’m glad you came over. It’s my pleasure to have you at my dinner table; you didn’t force yourself at all. And even if you did a little, I’m glad,” she added.
“You’re right, I don’t share much of my past. It’s just that…” Emily paused. She tried to come up with a reason why she’s a closed off frigid bitch. A reason that wasn’t the truth. She couldn’t find one.
“Everyone thinks it’s glamorous or exotic to grow up in five different countries and speak five different languages. They don’t think about that for each of the five different moves we made, I spent the first few months not speaking the language, not having any friends, and generally being miserable."
Emily looked up from her plate and saw JJ looking at her intently, her face revealing that she was one of those people who assumed glamour.
“I don’t really share much from my childhood because it’s not really full of happy, heart-warming, family dinner-type stories,” Emily said honestly. She felt incredibly exposed. But she figured since she was already metaphorically stripped down to her underwear, she may as well just go the full Monty.
“My mother was mad at me because my father had taken me to the zoo the day before, and he let me have whatever snacks I wanted. So of course I filled up on ice cream and pastries. By time we got home, I had no appetite for dinner. But my mother said that Miss Anna, our cook, would be mad if I didn’t eat the dinner that she had made for me.”
Emily paused. She could probably stop the story there, and JJ would be satisfied with the knowledge of why her mother was mad at her.
She could stop. But JJ showed up at her doorstep looking for someone to talk to. JJ trusted her. And deep down Emily trusted JJ. At least she wanted to trust JJ.
“So I sat down at the dinner table with my parents and ate everything on my plate. I worried if I didn’t eat everything my mother would be angry with my father for allowing me to eat my way through the zoo. If my mother was angry with him, then my father would be angry with me, and he’d never take me surprise trips again. So to ensure that my parents wouldn’t be mad at me, I stuffed myself to the point of getting sick the next day in class.”
Emily took a few breaths; she felt winded from sharing the story.
“I can see why you preferred to eat with your housekeeper over your parents,” JJ said. “I used to purposefully try to make my parents mad by making my little brother laugh so hard that milk would come out his nose.”
“I’m glad you’ve outgrown that tactic,” Emily said smiling at the image.
“Have I?” JJ asked, a mischievous expression on her face.
“Did you want any more food?” Emily asked, seeing that JJ’s plate was empty.
“Mm-mm,” JJ said shaking her head. For a brief moment, Emily thought about Matthew.
“I’m completely stuffed,” JJ said, sitting back in the chair. “Well, except for that little bit of space I reserved for the brownie.”
Emily picked up the serving dishes to put the leftover food away and was surprised when JJ followed her in to the kitchen carrying the plates.
“You don’t have to do that,” Emily insisted.
“Pfft…” JJ gestured dismissively. “Everyone knows that she who eats without cooking does the dishes. You can put the leftovers away, but I’m doing the dishes.”
“You are definitely welcome to come over anytime,” Emily said with a smile.
“I’m holding you to that,” JJ told her with a wink.
Emily was grateful that JJ was behind her because she could feel her cheeks get warm. Again. This had to stop. There were rules about this sort of situation. Even if there weren’t explicit federal regulations, there were many instances of agents suddenly being transferred without warning shortly after a romantic relationship came to light.
But that didn’t matter. Because Emily had rules about romantic relationships and the workplace. Number one: don’t come out. Number two: don’t date co-workers. Number three: don’t date anyone your co-workers know. There were several other rules, but since that fluttering feeling in Emily’s stomach would lead to the breaking of rules numbers one through three, it wasn’t worth running through the others.
Emily focused on putting the leftovers away, while JJ stood at the sink washing the dishes.
“Don’t bother with the cooking ware,” Emily told her. “They need to soak. And the dishes can just dry in the rack.”
She went over to the refrigerator and pulled out two more beers. “Do you want another one?”
“Only if I can drink it while you give me the grand tour.”
Emily quickly thought about the state of each room. She had simply thrown her go-bag on the bedroom floor when she got home, so there shouldn’t be any random articles of clothing strewn around the room. And she hadn’t done laundry in an unfortunately long time so no lingerie laying around.
“No problem,” Emily said, handing her the beer once she finished running through her mental checklist.
Emily led JJ upstairs to show her the bedroom and guest room.
“Oh, this tub looks simply divine,” JJ said, when they stopped in the master bathroom.
“It’s where I do my unthinking,” Emily explained.
“The way things have been going these last few months, I’m not sure that I’d ever get out of there,” JJ commented. “You wanna go out?”
“What?” Emily was caught off-guard by JJ’s sudden change in subject.
“Out. Like dancing or something,” JJ clarified. “You live so close to downtown, I’m sure there are places we can walk to from here.”
“Um, sure,” Emily said. “There’s a pub a few blocks away, which is mostly a sit and drink place. Umm, and if we go a few blocks in the other direction there are a few dance clubs. Two of them are, uh, gay bars. Good music and dancing.”
“Say no more, let’s go there,” JJ said. “I’m so not in the mood to be hit on.”
Emily nodded. “Be that as it may, I’m still going to put on some jeans that are a little less comfortable.” Getting hit on or not, Emily refused to go out in her ratty jeans and Yale sweatshirt.
Her eyes moved up and down JJ, taking note of the tight purple t-shirt and jeans.
“Checkin’ me out, Prentiss?” JJ asked, clearly catching Emily in her appraisal of her outfit. “Do I pass muster?”
“I wasn’t…” Emily started. “Yeah, you look fine,” she said, feeling the color rise to her cheeks. “But if you want to borrow anything, just let me know.”
“Maybe just some make-up?” JJ asked.
“It’s all in the bathroom,” Emily said, going into her bedroom to change. While Emily had no intention to make any effort to pick anyone up this evening, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to dress up a bit. She pulled on her favorite pair of jeans and a low cut red shirt.
She followed JJ into the bathroom and was secretly pleased to see JJ’s eyes do the same once-over to her.
“Acceptable?” Emily asked.
“Most definitely,” JJ said with a wink.
The warmth in Emily’s cheeks turned to an unbearable heat. “Let’s go,” she said, turning around before her cheeks burst into flames.
.oOo.
“This is great!” JJ said, tossing back another tequila shot.
Emily smiled. She couldn’t remember a time feeling this relaxed; two beers and two tequila shots had Emily in the sweet spot between buzzed and drunk. The ever-present censor in her mind that ensured all actions and statements were appropriately constrained was apparently tipsy as well because it made no effort to prevent her from turning to JJ when a particularly catchy song started to play.
“Let’s dance,” she offered, already sashaying out toward the dance floor.
As her hips began to sway back and forth, Emily was grateful for the confidence boost that only tequila can provide. She felt JJ’s hands settle on her swaying hips and didn’t bother fighting the feeling of excitement that settled in her stomach. There was a freedom in letting her body simply follow the rhythm of the music, not caring whether it meant brushing up against JJ or grabbing her by the hand and spinning her around.
When the song I Touch Myself came on, Emily was shocked when JJ suddenly started mouthing the words and seductively acting out the song. But she was still buzzed enough to go along with it, returning JJ’s gestures. By time the song ended, they were both laughing so hard they could barely dance.
“Another round?” JJ asked. Emily nodded without thinking.
“I still remember when the DJ played that song at our eighth grade dance party,” JJ said as they sat down with their beers. “I thought Mrs. Emerson’s head was going to explode. She was our English teacher, and let’s just say that she wasn’t the most open-minded woman,” JJ clarified.
“You were in eighth grade when that song came out?” Emily asked, suddenly feeling very old. “I was in college.”
JJ shrugged. “So you’re an old fart. Who cares? You still look damn hot on the dance floor.”
Emily picked up her beer and took a large sip. Did JJ just call her an old fart? And a hot dancer? Not sure which comment to respond to, she took another swallow of beer.
“That chick in the blue dress has totally been undressing you with her eyes,” JJ said looking in the direction of the bar.
Sure enough, Emily glanced over to where JJ was indicating and saw that there was a very pretty woman looking intently in her direction.
“She probably doesn’t know how old you are, though,” JJ said with a teasing glint in her eyes.
“Maybe she’s checking you out, not realizing that you got carded trying to buy that beer,” Emily joked back.
JJ shook her head. “You’re definitely the one who she has the hots for. I’ll prove it.”
Before Emily could react, JJ leaned across the table and kissed her on the lips. When she realized it wasn’t just a quick peck, Emily felt herself relax into the warm comfort of having JJ’s lips on hers. Almost instinctively she felt her lips parting, and then suddenly her brain turned back on.
Rule one, don’t come out.
Never let someone know how much something means to you.
Before both of those rules could be smashed to smithereens, Emily’s brain took over, and she pulled back from the kiss. Before the appropriate question could form in her mind, JJ spoke up.
“See? Blue Dress looks ticked,” she remarked.
Emily paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “I’m not sure that proves anything since her annoyance does not differentiate between the kisser and the kissee.”
“Hmmm.” JJ looked like she was giving Emily’s point some serious thought. “Oh well,” she said, shrugging. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Emily was nonplussed; never in her life would she have considered just leaning across the table and kissing one of her friends on the lips. She just looked at JJ, trying to figure out why she just kissed her.
Before she let herself consider any motivation other than an alcohol-induced, poorly thought-out impulse, she downed the last of her beer and gestured to the dance floor.
“Let’s go,” she said, hoping that dancing would make an adequate substitute for thinking.
“Lead the way, old lady,” JJ said holding out her hand. Emily obliged, but having her hand in JJ’s did nothing to help distract her from thinking about JJ’s kiss.
Back on the dance floor, Emily let go of JJ’s hand and tried to concentrate on the music. Emily closed her eyes, letting her body go with the beat of the music. With her eyes closed, Emily fought to not think about the feel of JJ’s lips on her own. She tried not to think about what it would have been like if the kiss had continued.
“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” Emily snapped her eyes open at the sounding of JJ’s teasing.
“You know us old fogeys,” Emily said, smiling. “Actually I’m just enjoying the dancing. I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve done something like this.”
It really had. She had always had a hard time letting go. In part because of her training. After all, when you’re undercover, getting drunk and revealing your nation’s security secrets is generally frowned upon. Emily was the master at convincing bartenders to help her out by supplying her endless rounds of watered down drinks while giving her drinking companion a double share of alcohol.
“So don’t kill my buzz,” she warned to JJ.
“Never,” JJ promised.
After a few more songs, the music slowed, and without the strong backbeat, Emily’s energy started to wane. She was relieved to see JJ trying to hide a yawn behind her hand.
“Who’s the old fogey now?” Emily teased. Her message would have been more biting had she been successfully able to stifle her own yawn.
“I’m sorry, Pot, but did you just call this kettle black?” JJ asked taking mock offense.
“Guilty as charged. I’m ready to crash,” Emily admitted.
“Let’s go old lady,” JJ said, slipping her arm around Emily’s waist.
.oOo.
“Thanks for tonight,” Emily said as she laid out some pajamas, a towel, and some toiletries for JJ.
“Since you’re the one who fed me and let me sleep over, I feel like I’m really the one who should be thanking you,” JJ insisted.
“Those things are just about having manners,” Emily said shrugging. “Thanks for your persistence in showing up on my doorstep with beer. It, uh, really means a lot to me.”
Emily looked down and rearranged the toothbrush and toothpaste, embarrassed by her admission. “Anyway, I’m exhausted. Sleep well and don’t hesitate to holler if you need anything. All the coffee stuff is on the counter next to the coffee maker,” she said quickly.
“Thanks, Em.” JJ walked over to where Emily was standing and put her arms around her.
As she stood there with JJ’s chest pressed against hers, the only thing she could think of was how fast her heart was beating. Convinced that JJ would be able to read her true feelings from her heart rate, Emily tried desperately to slow her heart down. She was concentrating so hard on her own biofeedback rhythms that she failed to appreciate the hug for what it was.
As she pulled away from the hug, JJ placed a quick kiss on Emily’s cheek. “Sweet dreams.”
“You too,” Emily said quickly and turned to leave the guest room before any further words or physical gestures could be exchanged.
As she closed her eyes, Emily tried to quash the tiny notion lingering on the edges of her thoughts that perhaps JJ actually reciprocated her feelings. Because the idea that Emily’s feelings were reciprocated was actually more disconcerting than the fact that she had them in the first place.
Want to catch up from the beginning? Chapter 1
Author: Dr. B
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emily/JJ
Rating: FRT
Summary: Being an undercover agent seemed like the obvious choice; Emily had spent her childhood pretending to be someone she wasn’t in order to please her politician parents or to survive always being the new kid at school. After her last undercover assignment, Emily was transferred to the BAU - no cover necessary. As she tries to adjust and simply be herself she realizes that she’s no longer sure who Emily Prentiss really is.
A Sense of Self, Chapter 11: 2007 - Washington, D.C.
Thanks to nikonic for being an awesome beta.
2007 - Washington, D.C.
Emily had just finished setting the table when she heard a knock at the door. It was almost eight-thirty at night, who would be visiting her at this hour?
She looked through the peephole and saw JJ standing outside her door. She didn’t even know that JJ knew where she lived.
Garcia. Not that Emily had told her either, but it was clear that nothing was safe from Garcia’s reach.
Did another case come up? Emily wondered. They just closed the Katie Jacobs case a few hours ago; there was no way they would be getting called so soon. Besides, if it were a case, JJ probably would have just called. Unless it was something serious. Or maybe she was running errands in D.C. and her car broke down.
Before Emily went too far in her analysis, she realized that she was leaving JJ standing out in the hallway.
She opened the door, and as soon as she did, she saw a six-pack of beer in one hand and a paper bag in the other. Emily was relieved that JJ was obviously not there because of a case. Or a broken down car for that matter. She stepped aside to let JJ in.
“Is everything ok?” Emily asked, not understanding why for the second time in two weeks JJ had appeared at her door, beer in hand.
“It’s as ok as it will ever be after a day of chasing a kidnapper who turned out to be the aunt of the victim, whose uncle, said aunt’s husband, has been sexually molesting her for years, unbeknownst to said uncle’s brother and wife who live just three blocks away,” JJ answered, matter-of-factly.
Emily nodded and sighed. It had been a hell of day.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Welcome to my home,” Emily said suddenly realizing that wasn’t a very gracious hostess moment. Her mother would be mortified.
“Thanks,” JJ said, looking around. “You know, I’ve never really thought about what your condo would look like, but now that I’m seeing it, it’s exactly what I would’ve imagined.”
Emily had lived in many houses in her life, but her condo was one of the few that actually felt like home. It was her refuge and not just because of the oversized clawfoot tub in the master bathroom. She smiled shyly, realizing that other than Hotch, JJ was the only member of the team to come over to her place.
“And not only does it look amazing, it smells incredible,” JJ remarked. “Are you cooking something?”
“Rosemary garlic roasted chicken with honey-roasted carrots and Simon and Garfunkel potatoes,” Emily answered. She took the beer from JJ and started walking into the kitchen.
“Simon and Garfunkel potatoes?” JJ asked, following close behind.
“I season them with parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,” Emily informed her. “I thought of calling them Scarborough Fair potatoes, but I prefer to honor the singers, not the song.”
“Sounds delicious,” JJ said. Her eyes got wide. “Oh no, you have company, don’t you? I’m interrupting something.”
Emily shook her head. “Not at all. You’re the only company I have tonight.”
“You really made that whole dinner just for yourself?” JJ seemed floored by the notion.
Emily nodded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. If she only made nice meals when she was eating with someone else, she’d be subsisting on macaroni and cheese and frozen pizza.
“I like to cook,” she said lamely. “We’ve just been on case after case after case lately, which usually means burgers and soggy sandwiches, so I wanted something different. Not to mention the fact that it was a crappy day. So I cooked,” she repeated.
“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” JJ told her. “I can barely work up the enthusiasm to make myself Hamburger Helper, let alone roast a chicken.”
“Have you eaten already?” Emily asked. “Everything should be ready in about…” she turned and glanced at the timer. “…three minutes. Well, thirteen. The chicken has to rest.”
“That sounds amazing,” JJ said. “I brought us a little something to eat, but your dinner kicks my dinner’s ass.”
Emily opened up the paper bag and saw brownies. “This is what you consider dinner?”
“Chocolate happens to pair very well with beer,” JJ defended. “Not to mention I brought this.”
JJ held up her phone.
Emily smiled. “Well, now we have dinner and dessert. And we don’t need that,” she added pointing at JJ’s phone.
At that moment, the timer went off. Emily took the chicken out of the oven and covered it with foil. She turned the oven up to finish the carrots and potatoes. She grabbed a plate and silverware for JJ and set it out on the table. She removed the wine glass from her own place setting and put it back in the cupboard.
“Do you want anything else to drink? Water? Iced tea?” Emily offered.
“Why fill up on something else when there’s beer?” JJ asked as she opened two bottles and handed one to Emily. “This is more of the beer from Colorado. I’m so glad we’re exempt from the three-ounce rule.”
“How much beer did you get?” Emily asked, wondering how she missed JJ lugging boxes of beer onto the plane.
“Two cases,” JJ said nonchalantly. “Morgan and I loaded them on the plane, but you were being all pensive, looking out the window and didn’t notice anything.”
Emily nodded, realizing what she was talking about. Before JJ could make an attempt to bring up their conversation from that plane ride, Emily decided to change the subject.
“Why don’t you sit at the table? Everything will be done in a few minutes,” Emily said, handing JJ her beer.
She pulled out some of her servingware that had been languishing unused in her cabinets since she moved to D.C. As it turned out, not having any friends meant not having any dinner parties. And while she was more than willing to make a four-course meal for herself, she just couldn’t bring herself to use the fancy serving trays to do it.
Emily expertly carved the chicken and arranged everything on the trays. She glanced at JJ, who had obviously been watching her the whole time. Emily’s cheeks flushed again thinking about the feelings that had arisen while she and JJ sipped beers in her hotel room two weeks ago. She decided to wash her hands again just so she could turn away from JJ for a bit while she composed herself. She imagined washing all those feelings down the drain.
She sighed; if only it were that easy.
“That looks amazing,” JJ gushed when Emily brought the trays to the table. “You okay? You look a little flushed.”
“I’ve just been standing next to a four-hundred-and-fifty degree oven. Not only am I flushed, I’m actually sweating a little,” she admitted. “That was probably more information than you needed, wasn’t it?”
“Believe me when I say there is nothing that could spoil my appetite right now.” JJ actually looked as though she might start drooling if Emily didn’t give her the plate with food promptly. No sooner than the plate hit the table, JJ sank her knife and fork into the chicken.
Emily watched in amusement as JJ’s eyes closed and a contented expression made its way across her face.
“Can I come to dinner every night?” JJ asked. “This is… I’m not sure there are enough synonyms for amazing to cover just how delicious this is.”
“Thanks,” Emily said. Even though she was perfectly content cooking just for herself, she had forgotten how nice it felt to cook for someone else. “Although I can’t imagine you’d want to really drive an hour and a half out of your way every night just to eat dinner
here.”
“For food like this, you better believe I would,” JJ said. “It’s simply phenomenal, stupendous, sensational…”
“Now you just sound like you’re reciting from the thesaurus,” Emily joked.
“Superlative,” JJ said in response.
Emily just shook her head, smiling. She remembered JJ’s overly effusive descriptions of the food when they had gone out to lunch her first day at the BAU.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“Whenever my mom was posted somewhere, we always had housekeepers and cooks. Usually I ate dinner with them, and then eventually they started teaching me to cook.”
“That’s sad,” JJ said.
“That I learned to cook?” Emily asked, genuinely confused.
“No, that you ate dinner with your housekeeper or cook,” JJ clarified.
“And my nanny,” Emily added. “Why is that sad? I learned to cook and always had entertaining dinner conversations. It was better than when my parents ate with me where dinner conversations were dominated either by boring discussions of politics or awkward silences. I’m guessing that with your happy family, you ate dinner together, didn’t you?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” JJ said. “But yeah, we ate together most nights. My mom’s cooking couldn’t hold a candle to this meal. I think I learned my Hamburger Helper techniques from her.”
“I guess that’s why they’re called family dinners, not fantastic food dinners,” Emily commented.
“So, what’s up?” Emily asked after a few moments of conversationless eating.
“What do you mean what’s up?” JJ asked, taking more carrots onto her plate.
“I mean…well, first there was the beer in Denver. And well…” Emily let her sentence trail off, realizing it was rude to come out and bluntly ask why are you here?
“You want to know why I keep showing up at your doorstep with beer.” JJ put a forkful of potatoes in her mouth.
Emily felt her cheeks flushing again. “Not that I don’t like beer, or your company. I don’t know… I’m just not used to…”
She stopped herself before she finished the sentence. I’m just not used to having friends. Emily had learned that friendlessness begets friendlessness, so it was probably not the best thing to admit. Other feelings aside, Emily didn’t want to risk losing JJ’s potential friendship.
Emily took a bite of chicken, as though that were an adequate way to complete her thought.
“I don’t have an ulterior motive if that’s what you’re worried about,” JJ said in a light, almost joking tone. The slight furrowing of her eyebrows and downturn of the corners of her lips were the only indication to Emily that the blonde was hurt by her implications.
“Oh, I didn’t think that,” Emily said quickly. Her response was a little too rushed to be completely convincing.
She shook her head. This was obviously not the conversation JJ came over to have; it wasn’t even one that Emily wanted to have.
“I’m sorry,” Emily said. “The last few months have been…”
She paused, searching for the right word. “Hard.”
“That’s why I’m here. I walked through my door this evening, and all I could think about was how horrible the world is,” JJ said with a shrug. “And I couldn’t stand the idea of sitting there thinking about that by myself. So I came to see you.”
Emily nodded. “I’m flattered that I’m one you want to think about that with.”
JJ gave her a strange look, causing her to add, “That sounded sarcastic. It wasn’t.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I haven’t really made many friends since moving here. Clearly I’m out of practice,” Emily said. Any friends, was more accurate. She felt her cheeks flush again.
“That’s why I brought the beer,” JJ said. “It’s a good communication liaison.”
Emily smiled. “I suppose if you got the journalists hammered before a press conference, they might be more docile.”
“Or more hostile,” JJ pointed out. “It depends on how much we give them.”
“Well, it’s not as though some of those press conferences don’t end up like bar fights anyway.”
JJ sighed. “We’re getting too close to talking about work. Did you live in D.C. growing up?” she asked, abruptly switching topics.
“Sort-of. My parents own a house in Arlington, which is where we stayed whenever we were in the States between assignments. We lived there until I was four. Then my mother got posted in Bulgaria, so we moved there when I was in kindergarten.”
It was amazing that the mere mention of the words Bulgaria and kindergarten was still enough to turn Emily’s stomach.
JJ cocked her head to the side. “Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?” Emily was genuinely confused.
“Whenever you talk about Bulgaria you get this look on your face like you just smelled a pile of rotting garbage,” JJ explained. “You did the same thing when we were talking at lunch that first day.”
Emily was taken aback by JJ’s observations. First and foremost that she had made them in the first place and secondly that she remembered Emily’s facial expressions from a year ago. She had never discussed that day in kindergarten to anyone. In her mind, that day had been the one where Emily was marked to be a friendless outcast for the rest of her life.
“Well, it’s not really the best dinner table story,” Emily prefaced.
JJ shrugged, taking another bite of potato. “How many times have we talked about rape and murder while eating?”
It was a hard point to argue.
“When I was in Bulgaria, I went to public school, so I wasn’t allowed to speak English. Only Bulgarian. Which was fine because I learned it pretty quickly,” Emily said shrugging. She decided to not add that her impetus was being teased mercilessly and not understanding what they were saying.
“One day, uh, we were practicing reading on the carpet, and my stomach had been hurting all day. It just kept getting worse, and I was pretty sure I was going to throw up. I tried to ask the teacher if I could be excused to go to the bathroom, but since I wasn’t feeling good and because things were getting sort-of urgent I couldn’t remember how to ask in Bulgarian.” Emily took a deep breath.
“So I asked in English and everyone started laughing and the teacher yelled at me, and then I threw up all over myself and Ivan Todorov,” Emily said, sliding her hand over her stomach. “When I say it out loud like that, it seems ridiculous that more than thirty years later it still bothers me.”
JJ’s face softened. “We can’t control how situations affect us. Obviously it was a huge deal at the time and so it still matters. What happened next?”
“I started crying, Ivan punched me, and I was sent to the principal’s office. My nanny took me home, and my mother was angry with me,” Emily listed quickly.
“Why was your mom mad at you?” JJ asked indignantly. “You were five! And sick!”
“It’s complicated.” Emily said, not wanting to get into the whole over-eating to please her parents part of the story. She did everything she could to keep her father from being displeased with her, but it didn’t matter because he never took her out on another father-daughter excursion again. All in all, it was a story made up of nothing but layers of humiliation and disappointment.
Every time she thought about that day, first her body remembered the nausea and embarrassment of throwing up in front of the entire class. Then her mind remembered that her happiness about her trip to the zoo with her father only compounded the shame she felt for disappointing him and angering her mother. She took a bite of potatoes trying to get her mind and body to move to another subject.
“Why do you do that?” Just like the first time JJ asked, Emily had no idea what she was doing to prompt that question.
“Well, why do you keep doing that?” Emily retorted. The words came out more harshly than she had intended.
JJ looked taken aback. “What?”
“Ask me why I’m doing what I’m doing when I have no idea what I’m doing that’s making you ask me why I’m doing it.” To mask how defensive she felt, Emily forced her tone of voice to stay light, almost as though she were joking.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. I just notice that when we talk you have certain things you always do. Like you looking like you’re going to vomit when you say Bulgaria, which makes sense now.” JJ said. “And when you talk about yourself, it’s like you give out a little bit of information, and then you stop abruptly and change the subject.”
“So you’re profiling me?” Emily asked.
“No,” JJ said quickly. “Well, I guess so, yeah.”
Emily shook her head. “Please don’t.”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that you’re so hard to read sometimes. I mean, as a friend.” JJ spoke hesitantly, like she was having trouble figuring out exactly how to say what she wanted to say.
Emily wished she hadn’t asked. If JJ thought that about her, what must the rest of the team think? Once again the phrase frigid bitch tumbled into her mind. She thought of Sophie, who was the one who had shouted those words at Emily before storming out of her apartment. It was the last passionate thing that Sophie ever said to her. The next day Emily was given the talk that started with, we need to talk. And then continued with, this just isn’t working. I’m not getting what I need from this relationship. You’re not good enough for me. To be fair, Sophie hadn’t said that last part, but it rang in Emily’s ears nonetheless.
“Shit, Emily, I’m sorry,” JJ said, the regret written across her face. “I didn’t mean to…”
“You didn’t,” Emily said, realizing that she must have let her facial expression give her away while she was lost in her memory of her fight with Sophie. Emily tried to salvage things remembering some of the manners lessons that her mother had instilled on her. Never let a guest feel uncomfortable. It is your job as host to do everything in your power to keep that from happening. Their comfort is more important than yours.
“I did. I showed up at your doorstep uninvited, forced myself on you as a dinner guest, and now I’ve insulted you and hurt your feelings,” JJ insisted. She put down her knife and fork and wiped her mouth with her napkin.
“Wait, JJ, don’t.” Emily took in a deep breath, noticing that JJ was halfway to standing up and leaving. “I’m glad you came over. It’s my pleasure to have you at my dinner table; you didn’t force yourself at all. And even if you did a little, I’m glad,” she added.
“You’re right, I don’t share much of my past. It’s just that…” Emily paused. She tried to come up with a reason why she’s a closed off frigid bitch. A reason that wasn’t the truth. She couldn’t find one.
“Everyone thinks it’s glamorous or exotic to grow up in five different countries and speak five different languages. They don’t think about that for each of the five different moves we made, I spent the first few months not speaking the language, not having any friends, and generally being miserable."
Emily looked up from her plate and saw JJ looking at her intently, her face revealing that she was one of those people who assumed glamour.
“I don’t really share much from my childhood because it’s not really full of happy, heart-warming, family dinner-type stories,” Emily said honestly. She felt incredibly exposed. But she figured since she was already metaphorically stripped down to her underwear, she may as well just go the full Monty.
“My mother was mad at me because my father had taken me to the zoo the day before, and he let me have whatever snacks I wanted. So of course I filled up on ice cream and pastries. By time we got home, I had no appetite for dinner. But my mother said that Miss Anna, our cook, would be mad if I didn’t eat the dinner that she had made for me.”
Emily paused. She could probably stop the story there, and JJ would be satisfied with the knowledge of why her mother was mad at her.
She could stop. But JJ showed up at her doorstep looking for someone to talk to. JJ trusted her. And deep down Emily trusted JJ. At least she wanted to trust JJ.
“So I sat down at the dinner table with my parents and ate everything on my plate. I worried if I didn’t eat everything my mother would be angry with my father for allowing me to eat my way through the zoo. If my mother was angry with him, then my father would be angry with me, and he’d never take me surprise trips again. So to ensure that my parents wouldn’t be mad at me, I stuffed myself to the point of getting sick the next day in class.”
Emily took a few breaths; she felt winded from sharing the story.
“I can see why you preferred to eat with your housekeeper over your parents,” JJ said. “I used to purposefully try to make my parents mad by making my little brother laugh so hard that milk would come out his nose.”
“I’m glad you’ve outgrown that tactic,” Emily said smiling at the image.
“Have I?” JJ asked, a mischievous expression on her face.
“Did you want any more food?” Emily asked, seeing that JJ’s plate was empty.
“Mm-mm,” JJ said shaking her head. For a brief moment, Emily thought about Matthew.
“I’m completely stuffed,” JJ said, sitting back in the chair. “Well, except for that little bit of space I reserved for the brownie.”
Emily picked up the serving dishes to put the leftover food away and was surprised when JJ followed her in to the kitchen carrying the plates.
“You don’t have to do that,” Emily insisted.
“Pfft…” JJ gestured dismissively. “Everyone knows that she who eats without cooking does the dishes. You can put the leftovers away, but I’m doing the dishes.”
“You are definitely welcome to come over anytime,” Emily said with a smile.
“I’m holding you to that,” JJ told her with a wink.
Emily was grateful that JJ was behind her because she could feel her cheeks get warm. Again. This had to stop. There were rules about this sort of situation. Even if there weren’t explicit federal regulations, there were many instances of agents suddenly being transferred without warning shortly after a romantic relationship came to light.
But that didn’t matter. Because Emily had rules about romantic relationships and the workplace. Number one: don’t come out. Number two: don’t date co-workers. Number three: don’t date anyone your co-workers know. There were several other rules, but since that fluttering feeling in Emily’s stomach would lead to the breaking of rules numbers one through three, it wasn’t worth running through the others.
Emily focused on putting the leftovers away, while JJ stood at the sink washing the dishes.
“Don’t bother with the cooking ware,” Emily told her. “They need to soak. And the dishes can just dry in the rack.”
She went over to the refrigerator and pulled out two more beers. “Do you want another one?”
“Only if I can drink it while you give me the grand tour.”
Emily quickly thought about the state of each room. She had simply thrown her go-bag on the bedroom floor when she got home, so there shouldn’t be any random articles of clothing strewn around the room. And she hadn’t done laundry in an unfortunately long time so no lingerie laying around.
“No problem,” Emily said, handing her the beer once she finished running through her mental checklist.
Emily led JJ upstairs to show her the bedroom and guest room.
“Oh, this tub looks simply divine,” JJ said, when they stopped in the master bathroom.
“It’s where I do my unthinking,” Emily explained.
“The way things have been going these last few months, I’m not sure that I’d ever get out of there,” JJ commented. “You wanna go out?”
“What?” Emily was caught off-guard by JJ’s sudden change in subject.
“Out. Like dancing or something,” JJ clarified. “You live so close to downtown, I’m sure there are places we can walk to from here.”
“Um, sure,” Emily said. “There’s a pub a few blocks away, which is mostly a sit and drink place. Umm, and if we go a few blocks in the other direction there are a few dance clubs. Two of them are, uh, gay bars. Good music and dancing.”
“Say no more, let’s go there,” JJ said. “I’m so not in the mood to be hit on.”
Emily nodded. “Be that as it may, I’m still going to put on some jeans that are a little less comfortable.” Getting hit on or not, Emily refused to go out in her ratty jeans and Yale sweatshirt.
Her eyes moved up and down JJ, taking note of the tight purple t-shirt and jeans.
“Checkin’ me out, Prentiss?” JJ asked, clearly catching Emily in her appraisal of her outfit. “Do I pass muster?”
“I wasn’t…” Emily started. “Yeah, you look fine,” she said, feeling the color rise to her cheeks. “But if you want to borrow anything, just let me know.”
“Maybe just some make-up?” JJ asked.
“It’s all in the bathroom,” Emily said, going into her bedroom to change. While Emily had no intention to make any effort to pick anyone up this evening, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to dress up a bit. She pulled on her favorite pair of jeans and a low cut red shirt.
She followed JJ into the bathroom and was secretly pleased to see JJ’s eyes do the same once-over to her.
“Acceptable?” Emily asked.
“Most definitely,” JJ said with a wink.
The warmth in Emily’s cheeks turned to an unbearable heat. “Let’s go,” she said, turning around before her cheeks burst into flames.
.oOo.
“This is great!” JJ said, tossing back another tequila shot.
Emily smiled. She couldn’t remember a time feeling this relaxed; two beers and two tequila shots had Emily in the sweet spot between buzzed and drunk. The ever-present censor in her mind that ensured all actions and statements were appropriately constrained was apparently tipsy as well because it made no effort to prevent her from turning to JJ when a particularly catchy song started to play.
“Let’s dance,” she offered, already sashaying out toward the dance floor.
As her hips began to sway back and forth, Emily was grateful for the confidence boost that only tequila can provide. She felt JJ’s hands settle on her swaying hips and didn’t bother fighting the feeling of excitement that settled in her stomach. There was a freedom in letting her body simply follow the rhythm of the music, not caring whether it meant brushing up against JJ or grabbing her by the hand and spinning her around.
When the song I Touch Myself came on, Emily was shocked when JJ suddenly started mouthing the words and seductively acting out the song. But she was still buzzed enough to go along with it, returning JJ’s gestures. By time the song ended, they were both laughing so hard they could barely dance.
“Another round?” JJ asked. Emily nodded without thinking.
“I still remember when the DJ played that song at our eighth grade dance party,” JJ said as they sat down with their beers. “I thought Mrs. Emerson’s head was going to explode. She was our English teacher, and let’s just say that she wasn’t the most open-minded woman,” JJ clarified.
“You were in eighth grade when that song came out?” Emily asked, suddenly feeling very old. “I was in college.”
JJ shrugged. “So you’re an old fart. Who cares? You still look damn hot on the dance floor.”
Emily picked up her beer and took a large sip. Did JJ just call her an old fart? And a hot dancer? Not sure which comment to respond to, she took another swallow of beer.
“That chick in the blue dress has totally been undressing you with her eyes,” JJ said looking in the direction of the bar.
Sure enough, Emily glanced over to where JJ was indicating and saw that there was a very pretty woman looking intently in her direction.
“She probably doesn’t know how old you are, though,” JJ said with a teasing glint in her eyes.
“Maybe she’s checking you out, not realizing that you got carded trying to buy that beer,” Emily joked back.
JJ shook her head. “You’re definitely the one who she has the hots for. I’ll prove it.”
Before Emily could react, JJ leaned across the table and kissed her on the lips. When she realized it wasn’t just a quick peck, Emily felt herself relax into the warm comfort of having JJ’s lips on hers. Almost instinctively she felt her lips parting, and then suddenly her brain turned back on.
Rule one, don’t come out.
Never let someone know how much something means to you.
Before both of those rules could be smashed to smithereens, Emily’s brain took over, and she pulled back from the kiss. Before the appropriate question could form in her mind, JJ spoke up.
“See? Blue Dress looks ticked,” she remarked.
Emily paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “I’m not sure that proves anything since her annoyance does not differentiate between the kisser and the kissee.”
“Hmmm.” JJ looked like she was giving Emily’s point some serious thought. “Oh well,” she said, shrugging. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Emily was nonplussed; never in her life would she have considered just leaning across the table and kissing one of her friends on the lips. She just looked at JJ, trying to figure out why she just kissed her.
Before she let herself consider any motivation other than an alcohol-induced, poorly thought-out impulse, she downed the last of her beer and gestured to the dance floor.
“Let’s go,” she said, hoping that dancing would make an adequate substitute for thinking.
“Lead the way, old lady,” JJ said holding out her hand. Emily obliged, but having her hand in JJ’s did nothing to help distract her from thinking about JJ’s kiss.
Back on the dance floor, Emily let go of JJ’s hand and tried to concentrate on the music. Emily closed her eyes, letting her body go with the beat of the music. With her eyes closed, Emily fought to not think about the feel of JJ’s lips on her own. She tried not to think about what it would have been like if the kiss had continued.
“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” Emily snapped her eyes open at the sounding of JJ’s teasing.
“You know us old fogeys,” Emily said, smiling. “Actually I’m just enjoying the dancing. I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve done something like this.”
It really had. She had always had a hard time letting go. In part because of her training. After all, when you’re undercover, getting drunk and revealing your nation’s security secrets is generally frowned upon. Emily was the master at convincing bartenders to help her out by supplying her endless rounds of watered down drinks while giving her drinking companion a double share of alcohol.
“So don’t kill my buzz,” she warned to JJ.
“Never,” JJ promised.
After a few more songs, the music slowed, and without the strong backbeat, Emily’s energy started to wane. She was relieved to see JJ trying to hide a yawn behind her hand.
“Who’s the old fogey now?” Emily teased. Her message would have been more biting had she been successfully able to stifle her own yawn.
“I’m sorry, Pot, but did you just call this kettle black?” JJ asked taking mock offense.
“Guilty as charged. I’m ready to crash,” Emily admitted.
“Let’s go old lady,” JJ said, slipping her arm around Emily’s waist.
.oOo.
“Thanks for tonight,” Emily said as she laid out some pajamas, a towel, and some toiletries for JJ.
“Since you’re the one who fed me and let me sleep over, I feel like I’m really the one who should be thanking you,” JJ insisted.
“Those things are just about having manners,” Emily said shrugging. “Thanks for your persistence in showing up on my doorstep with beer. It, uh, really means a lot to me.”
Emily looked down and rearranged the toothbrush and toothpaste, embarrassed by her admission. “Anyway, I’m exhausted. Sleep well and don’t hesitate to holler if you need anything. All the coffee stuff is on the counter next to the coffee maker,” she said quickly.
“Thanks, Em.” JJ walked over to where Emily was standing and put her arms around her.
As she stood there with JJ’s chest pressed against hers, the only thing she could think of was how fast her heart was beating. Convinced that JJ would be able to read her true feelings from her heart rate, Emily tried desperately to slow her heart down. She was concentrating so hard on her own biofeedback rhythms that she failed to appreciate the hug for what it was.
As she pulled away from the hug, JJ placed a quick kiss on Emily’s cheek. “Sweet dreams.”
“You too,” Emily said quickly and turned to leave the guest room before any further words or physical gestures could be exchanged.
As she closed her eyes, Emily tried to quash the tiny notion lingering on the edges of her thoughts that perhaps JJ actually reciprocated her feelings. Because the idea that Emily’s feelings were reciprocated was actually more disconcerting than the fact that she had them in the first place.
Want to catch up from the beginning? Chapter 1