Chapter Text
“But, I don’t like almond milk.”
Emily was doing her best to give you a hard time, and it was working.
Your first winter with the team, you were really lucky the lot of you had Christmas time off - fingers still crossed. However, what was supposed to be the time to binge-watch cheesy holiday movies and catch up on all that you had missed through the year, unfortunately ended up becoming a ‘take-care-of-Emily’ fest. Well , you reasoned to yourself, there was nothing unfortunate about it except that Emily was not feeling well , but if it meant spending more time with her, you would take every sniffle and grumpy complaint; some people just did not do well with the flu.
“But they’re supposed to be vegan, Em!” you protest as you scour the internet for the perfect recipe. “What about the other one,” she whines.
Emily, whining while draped over you - a scenario you only dreamed of in your guiltiest of midnight fantasies. Although it wasn’t the way you ever pictured it - the words ‘funny yet exasperating the come to mind - it was definitely better than anything you were capable of imagining.
Shoving her back to her corner of your couch, you do your best to keep your face stern, not wanting to give in to her pouting. “Do you know what unsulphurated molasses are, Miss Prentiss? Because I do not! And if I don’t know what it is, I don’t have it at home, and if I don’t have it at home, we can’t make a gingerbread man with it.”
“First, it's SSA Prentiss, not Miss. Second, it’s unsulphured, not ‘unsulphurated’ , and finally,” she paused to fling a throw pillow at you, “I thought we were making more than one?”
“Yup, a pony and two houses too,” you grin as the pillow falls from your face to your lap. You could’ve dodged it, or even caught it and placed it amongst the heap of pillows now lying at your feet - why you had so many of them you would never know. Or why so many were within her reach. But the way her eyes lit up when she managed to get you was just too irresistible. You start to lean in towards her, wanting to wipe the cocky smirk off her very pretty face with a quick counterattack, but the moment for vengeance is halted when she lets out the ugliest sneeze you’ve ever heard. You would've laughed if you weren't so worried at the sound of it. You do when she makes a face at the kleenex in her hand.
You help her up to her feet, letting her rest her weight on you as you usher her to your bed. She doesn’t ever tell you that she huddled as close as she could to you and walked slower than she ever had her entire life, hoping that your bed would never come. You don’t ever tell her that you did too.