Trashy Motel Rooms
Lewistown, Montana. February 2007.
The incessant clanking of the dying heater in their motel room could be heard from the other end of the corridor, and JJ sighed deeply before making the trek toward the noise. Prepping for tomorrow morning’s press conference had taken much longer than she had anticipated, and as a result her return to the world’s cheapest, most remote motel was significantly delayed.
The rest of the team had long retired to their respective rooms, and JJ attempted to be as quiet as possible while searching for the key to the room she was sharing with Emily, who no doubt would still be awake. Perhaps she was going over the preliminary profile one more time, or maybe she was drying her hair. It had rained from sunrise to sunset today, and left the team soaked to the skin. JJ wondered if Emily would straighten her hair this evening, and secretly hoped she wouldn’t. She hadn’t curled her hair during their previous case in Georgia, but yesterday when she arrived in the briefing room it was flowing on her shoulders in loose yet deliberate waves, and JJ couldn’t really tell when she began noticing Emily’s hair care habits, except that she obviously had.
Her thoughts were quite rudely interrupted by a door slamming into her forehead.
“Oh my god, JJ, I’m so sorry!”
The voice of Emily Prentiss, slightly worried, floated through the air. JJ winced more for show than for pain and brought her free hand up to where the door made contact.
“What kind of motel has doors that open outwards?”
Realising that JJ was more annoyed at the door than at Emily, the newer profiler allowed herself to laugh, a sound that JJ had instantly been drawn to when she first heard it when Emily joined the BAU last November. She heard it more often nowadays, as she settled into the dynamics of the team, and it never failed to bring a smile to her own face. At least when said face hadn’t just been smacked by a door.
Grumbling slightly about missing DC, JJ slid past Emily and into their shared room, which, despite the best efforts of the heater in the corner, was positively freezing. She collapsed face-forward on the bed closest to the curtain-covered window and let out a dramatic sigh. Emily chuckled, and sat down cross-legged on the other bed.
“Reporters are the bane of my existence. You’d think the hardest part of this job would be the serial killers, but no. Its reporters that do stupid things like christening our unsub ‘The Sizzling Slasher.”
“Sizzling?”
“Don’t even get me started.”
JJ could hear the springs of Emily’s bed groan and then footsteps softy treading toward her. A dip in the mattress by her hipbones incentivised her to sit up, and then the two of them were sitting across from each other, criss-cross applesauce, and JJ had to stop her eyes from trailing down to where their knees touched. She then had to stop herself from giggling, because Emily was wearing pyjama bottoms with what looked like cartoon aliens on them.
“Did your laundry get mixed up with Spence’s?”
Emily’s brow scrunched up, before her cheeks turned red and a quick explanation was given; something about a series of sci-fi books she loved, and how the author was reinventing the genre from the ground up. JJ hardly understood a word, not particularly caring about what Emily was talking about, but caring very much about how her eyes lit up as she spoke. How, for just a few seconds, her entire body seemed lighter, and more free.
“…although I’m certain Reid probably has a pair too. I was chatting to him and Morgan about it over dinner.”
“Morgan likes cartoon alien sci-fi books?”
“Morgan likes the actress that’s due to play the heroine in the movie version.”
“Ah.”
And then they were giggling, and JJ could almost imagine them as high schoolers. They would finish school and go back to her house, and spend hours gossiping on her bed. They would watch movies, and JJ would force Emily to watch a rom-com, and in turn Emily would insist on some obscure and underground film that she fell in love with while living in Italy. Emily would roll her eyes at the rom-com, but cry at the end, and JJ would pretend to watch the random Italian film, but would instead inch closer to her friend on the bed-
As Emily was doing to her now.
“You’ve got a bruise forming.”
Emily reached out her hand, before stopping halfway. It hung in the air, an unanswered question.
JJ nodded.
And then Emily’s hand was caressing her face, fingers inching up her right cheek, travelling toward the bump on her forehead. JJ didn’t want to close her eyes, didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment, but felt herself do so instinctively, as the soft touches calmed her mind. Emily’s fingers were dancing across her face now, gentle, and hesitant, and JJ leaned into the precious touch. She could hear the other woman’s breath hitch slightly, and the touches stopped as quick as they had begun.
But before JJ could reopen her eyes, she felt a pressure on her forehead. It was light and beautiful, and she had waited for it for so long, and yet it lasted for so short a time. She wanted so desperately for another kiss. She wanted Emily to kiss her temple again. To kiss her cheek, her chin, her nose, her mouth. She wanted to kiss Emily back. She wanted…
She wanted. So badly.
This want seized her very being, and when JJ felt Emily’s hand on her face again, she twisted her neck ever so slightly, so she could place a kiss on the inside of Emily’s wrist. If JJ had more courage, it would have lasted longer. If-
Their moment was interrupted by the heater in the corner giving an ungodly screech, and the two women jumped apart, the serenity shared between them shattering.
“God, I hate that thing.”
JJ wished Emily hadn’t spoken, wished they could have just ignored the useless contraption in the corner and continued doing whatever it was they were doing, allowing it to lead to wherever it was destined to lead.
But Emily excused herself to finish straightening her hair, and JJ cursed inwardly, getting changed quickly before Emily came out of the bathroom. Their normal routine followed, with JJ brushing her teeth while Emily organised her clothes for the next day. Then Emily would brush her teeth, while JJ laid out the paperwork she would need first thing tomorrow morning; all done in an effort to allow themselves as long a sleep-in as possible while looking for a rapidly devolving psychopath.
JJ was the first one to collapse into bed, and promptly wrapped her duvet around her, in an attempt to retain any body heat at all. Her entire being felt frozen, apart from the right side of her temple, which felt like fire. Not from pain, but from the lips of the woman who was currently turning off her bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
It was quiet for a few moments, and yet JJ knew that they were both still awake. The silence felt like a dare; a dare for one of them to shatter it into infinite pieces. JJ thought back to the single kiss she gave. It was short, too short, and cowardly. She should have-
She should have-
“You know, if the only injury sustained on this case is a bruised forehead then I think we’re improving.”
JJ know that she was referencing their last case in Georgia, when Emily had found her in that godforsaken barn, with those dogs. Dead. Shot dead by her. The dogs were dead, and Spence was missing, and JJ felt as if she would never again be able to breathe.
It scared her sometimes, just how much she relied on her team. Just how much she loved them. After her sister died, all those years ago, JJ wasn’t sure if she would be able to care for someone the same way again, if she were ever going to be capable of replicating the love she felt for her. But then Garcia breezed into her life, all pink glasses, and wacky pens. Morgan too, although it was more a strut that a breeze, and with him came easy laughs and soft smiles. Spence… God, Spence was her best friend, her little brother, and she could see him hurting, cracking at the edges, and it hurt her too. Hotch and Gideon were tough, stern, but they had such a wealth of compassion inside of them that it sometimes stunned JJ with its intensity, and Emily-
Emily was-
Emily was once again getting up from her bed, and with trepidation evident in her footsteps, was walking towards JJ, slinking under her covers.
“Shared body heat is probably justifiable considering, our uh, heater situation.”
JJ was so damn tired, after the long plane ride and the even longer day that followed, but she willed herself to stay awake a few moments more, to ask one final question.
“Where were you going when you opened the door that hit me? You came straight back inside.”
“I was going to look for you.”
JJ knew her meeting had run overtime, but it wasn’t unusual, considering her role.
“I was at the precinct, not that far.”
JJ’s eyes were fluttering closed at this stage, and she yawned into the pillow. Dreams awaited her, and a long sleep to accompany them. They were meaningless dreams; about some random vacation from when she was a kid.
It was strange though, that when she woke the next morning she couldn’t quite remember how Emily fitted into them. She must have, because JJ could remember Emily’s voice, clear as day, saying “Any distance is too far, Jennifer Jareau.”
She must have been dreaming.
Yes. She must have been because the last thing they talked about last night was police precincts.
A dream.
But, God, if JJ didn’t dream for it and more.