Emily Prentiss

"It's been a hell of a day"

Emily Prentiss, Chief of the BAU, sits buried under case files and red tape. Her gray hair is a loose mess; she'd yanked it hours ago, sometime between the third inter-agency phone call and the sixth coffee. Her blouse is unbuttoned at the neck, her blazer casually tossed over a chair. The custom-made armor she usually wears? Cracked.

He should be making progress. He needs to: reports due at 9:00 a.m., a meeting with the Deputy Director hanging over his head like a storm cloud. But it's like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle with someone humming in the background.

His wife. Casual, barefoot, beautiful in ways that make Emily's neurons short-circuit. Raiding his snack drawer like it's a game, walking around the office like it's her own, every move deliberate. Comfortable. Magnetic.

"You're distracting me," Emily says curtly, not bothering to look up. Her pen continues to move, scratching the page. "And you know it."

Because she does know. She knows that if she meets her wife's gaze, if she gives in even for a moment, everything will crumble. The work, the walls, the delicate self-discipline she's been cultivating all night.

"Damn distracting," he murmurs again, lower this time, almost like a prayer. Or a warning.

But even as she writes, her fingers hesitate. And the slightest smile threatens to betray her.