Subtextual

The BAU bullpen was unusually quiet.

No case, no briefing, no jet fumes in the air. Just the low hum of computers and the occasional shuffle of paperwork. A rare day at Quantico where the only enemies were unfinished reports and bureaucratic backlog.

JJ sat at her desk, typing up her notes from the Seattle case. Her cheek was mostly healed now—just a faint mark left, the kind you wouldn’t notice unless you were already looking. And someone *was* looking.

Across the bullpen, Emily leaned back in her chair, her eyes flicking up from a stack of file folders.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to.

JJ glanced up, caught her gaze. They held it for a beat too long, until JJ blinked and looked back at her screen, her mouth twitching like she was fighting a smile.

Emily arched a brow.

JJ went back to typing.

Emily stood up, file in hand, and crossed the room—slow, deliberate steps. She stopped at the edge of JJ’s desk and leaned a hip against it.

“Need a second set of eyes on these timelines?”

JJ didn’t look up. “Only if you’re going to stop staring at me while I work.”

Emily’s voice dipped. “No promises.”

JJ looked up then, slowly, eyebrow raised. “That’s workplace harassment.”

Emily smiled. “I’ll type my apology.”

JJ took the file from her hand, but their fingers brushed—too long to be accidental. JJ felt it buzz all the way down her spine.

She cleared her throat and opened the folder. “You're lucky Hotch isn’t around.”

“He is,” Emily murmured. “Conference room. Door closed. Blinds drawn.”

JJ swallowed.

Silence stretched.

Emily was still leaning too close.

“You’re hovering,” JJ said, not quite managing to sound annoyed.

“You like it,” Emily said, casual.

JJ didn’t answer.

Emily pushed off the desk and walked away.

JJ let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

An hour later, they both ended up in the break room. Coffee machine humming, the pot nearly empty.

JJ reached for it just as Emily did. Their fingers bumped again.

“Sorry,” JJ said.

“I’m not,” Emily replied.

JJ poured the last bit into her mug and slid it toward Emily instead.

Emily took it, but her fingers ghosted over JJ’s again. “Generous and chivalrous. You’re full of surprises.”

JJ leaned against the counter. “You’re not as smooth as you think.”

Emily stepped closer. “No?”

JJ could smell her perfume—soft, sharp, addictive.

“No.” JJ’s voice was quiet now.

Emily tilted her head, watching her. “Then why are you blushing?”

JJ turned away, opening the fridge for no reason at all. “Because you’re annoying.”

Emily laughed, low and warm.

When JJ turned back, Emily was still looking at her like she could read every inch of her. JJ raised her mug in mock toast.

“To professionalism,” she said.

Emily’s smile was dangerous. “A losing battle.”

Neither of them drank.

Across the room, Garcia walked in and froze halfway through the doorway.

Her eyes went wide.

“Am I interrupting foreplay, or is the sexual tension just naturally this oppressive in here?”

JJ nearly choked on air. Emily took a long sip from the coffee JJ had poured her.

“Hi, Penelope,” she said smoothly.

JJ, face red and eyes on the ceiling, muttered, “I hate you both.”

Garcia beamed. “No you don’t.”

Emily looked at JJ over the rim of the mug. “Definitely not.”

JJ didn’t answer.

But she didn’t leave either.

The tension wasn’t going anywhere.

And honestly?

She didn’t want it to.

---

JJ’s office was dim except for the desk lamp burning overhead, casting soft shadows over the stacks of open files. The bullpen outside was quiet—most of the team had left hours ago. She hadn’t meant to stay so late, but the backlog was real, and part of her didn’t mind the solitude.

The silence was grounding. Or it had been—right up until someone knocked.

She glanced at the clock. 9:04 PM.

JJ frowned, stretching her back. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly. Emily.

JJ sat back in her chair. “Didn’t think anyone else was still here.”

Emily stepped inside and closed the door behind her with a soft click. “Could say the same about you.”

JJ arched an eyebrow. “I have a mountain of files to finish.”

Emily leaned against the inside of the door, arms crossed, casual but calculated. “And no one to impress with your incredible work ethic?”

JJ smirked, leaning back. “You impressed?”

Emily stepped closer. “Always.”

JJ swallowed.

Emily moved slowly, almost circling the desk. “Didn’t want to go home yet. Figured I’d see if anyone else was being stubborn.”

“Sure that’s all it was?” JJ’s voice was lighter than she felt.

Emily stopped on JJ’s side of the desk. “What else would it be?”

JJ didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Emily rested her fingers lightly on the edge of the desk, leaning just slightly forward. “You’re not very good at hiding things, you know. The way you look at me.”

JJ laughed—nervous, low. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Emily’s smile was devastating. “So we’re both guilty.”

She was close now. Too close. JJ could smell her perfume again, feel the heat from her body through the thin air between them. Her heart picked up speed.

Emily tilted her head. “You keep letting me get this close, JJ.”

JJ’s breath hitched. “You keep doing it.”

Emily’s voice was soft. Dangerous. “You going to stop me?”

JJ’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

Emily moved one hand to the back of JJ’s chair, fingers ghosting across the leather, across JJ’s shoulder, just enough to burn.

The tension was humming. Tight and impossible. One more inch and the whole thing would shatter.

JJ didn’t lean forward.

But she didn’t lean away.

Then—

A knock on the door.

They both froze.

“JJ?” Hotch’s voice. “I’m heading out. You should too—it’s late.”

JJ cleared her throat, fast. “Yeah. Just wrapping up.”

Emily had already stepped back, casual again, hands in her pockets, gaze fixed firmly on a random stack of papers.

“Alright,” Hotch said through the door. “Goodnight.”

His footsteps receded down the hallway.

JJ looked up.

Emily met her gaze with a crooked smile. “Saved by the boss.”

JJ exhaled, pulse still racing. “He has impeccable timing.”

Emily walked toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. She didn’t look back when she said, “Next time, you should try stopping me.”

Then she slipped out, and JJ sat frozen, still not sure whether she wanted that next time to happen soon—or not at all.

---

It was nearly midnight by the time JJ got home. The house was dark and quiet, just the low hum of the fridge and the gentle creak of old floors under her bare feet. She didn’t bother with the lights. Didn’t need them.

She poured herself a glass of wine, untouched, and set it on the counter before heading upstairs.

Her cheek still tingled where Emily had touched it days ago. Where she’d touched her again tonight.

JJ closed the bedroom door behind her and leaned against it for a long breath, eyes fluttering shut.

She could still hear Emily's voice.

You keep letting me get this close, JJ.

You going to stop me?

JJ swallowed hard, pulse jumping in her throat.

She let the blouse fall from her shoulders, slow and distracted, her fingers fumbling slightly over the buttons. Everything felt too warm. Her skin buzzed like it had been waiting for something all day. Or maybe longer.

She laid back on the bed, sheets cool against the fire under her skin. Her hand grazed her stomach, slipped lower.

Emily’s voice was in her head again. The smell of her perfume. The weight of her gaze.

JJ bit her lip.

It had been a long time since someone had gotten under her skin like this. Since someone had made her feel like this.

Like she was unraveling by degrees, and liking it.

She wasn’t sure how far this thing between them would go.

But tonight, alone in the dark, she didn’t want to stop thinking about Emily Prentiss.

She didn’t want to stop at all.