Chapter Text
Emily glowers out the windshield of the SUV, scratching at her inner arm to dull the annoying itching sensation crawling on the skin there. She pointedly ignores the amused side-eye glances she's getting from Rossi as he drives them back to the station. It takes everything in her not to snap, "Oh, shut up, Dave!", at him, knowing the outburst would only make the senior profiler laugh at her more.
So, instead, she glares out at the landscape passing them by, going back and forth on weather it was childish to slam an open palm on his hands and transfer the oils from the plants covering her arms onto him.
"Itchy, Prentiss?" Dave asks lightly, mouth twisted into a smirk. "I warned you not to go digging around in that patch of poison ivy."
Emily bites her tongue and clenches her jaw. "Knowing full well that would be the next thing I would do," she hisses in irritation, the tips of her ears burning in embarrassment when Rossi just laughs at her response.
"And whose fault is that, I wonder?" he asks, pulling the SUV into an empty space just a few feet down from the front entrance to the police prescient.
Fed up, Emily stops her incessant itching and slams her hand right down on the back of his hand in defiance. There. Let him suffer right along with her.
Prick.
Rossi just shoots her an unimpressed look, dangling the keys around his pointer finger. He shakes his head, as if mocking her further, before stepping from the vehicle. "Come on, genius, let's go get your arm washed and treated before you spread that stuff anywhere besides your arms."
Emily sits with a scowl as he opens her door for her, muttering angrily to herself as she follows behind him into the building. She wants the ground to open and swallow her whole when Rossi announces their presence with, "Alcohol wipes and itch cream, stat!" She shrinks behind the man, her whole face no doubt a bright shade of red.
Immediately, four heads swivel in their direction and focus on her: Hotch, with a shake of his head, Derek looking as if he's holding back a fit of laughter, Spencer with an inquisitive look on his face, and, worst of all, JJ looking as if she's trying very hard to hide a tiny smile.
Emily turns her head away from them, staring up at the ceiling as she continues to itch at her arm.
"Leaves of three, leave them be," Spencer chirps up, shaking his head before turning his focus back to the file in his hands.
"What happened, princess? Get a little too in touch with nature?" Derek jokes, looking between Emily and Rossi expectantly for more detail.
Emily's shoulders slump slightly, scratching more firmly at her arm. "There was..." She scratches harder, mouth twisting in annoyance, "Evidence in the bush, okay? I didn't think it would be this bad."
"I told her not to reach into the bush," Rossi tells Hotch with a mock look of disappointment. "You know how stubborn she is."
Hotch just pinches the bridge of his nose with a hard sigh.
Emily's cheeks flare at his words, whipping her head towards him. "Yeah, well, I touched your hand, so now it's all on you, too, old man."
"I'm Itlaian, it knows better," Rossi deadpans as he takes a seat at the table.
"I hope you scuff your new shoes," she grumbles as he passes her by.
"Just... go wash up," Hotch instructs, not moving his hand from his face. "And try not to touch anything until you treat yourself. The last thing I want is the entire department contaminated with poison ivy."
"I got it," JJ assures, her voice coming from just behind Emily, startling the older woman slightly. She turns her head just in time to see the blonde slide on the second light blue sterile glove, snapping the nitrile against her wrist. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
Emily pouts slightly, shooting one last glare at the back of Rossi's head before trailing a few feet after JJ.
The blonde leads her to the single occupant bathroom at the back of the prescient, the water steadily flowing from the tap. On the edge of the sink sat a few open packs of alcohol wipes and a small bottle of anti itch cream at the ready. JJ sticks her hands under the stream, adjusting the temperature of the water until she hums in satisfaction.
She turns to Emily, holding her gloved hands out patiently. "Can I?"
Wordlessly, the brunette holds both her arms out over the sink.
The two fall silent as JJ cups the cool water in her hands and carefully pours it back over Emily's irritated skin. A sigh of relief leaves the older woman's mouth at the first contact of water on her skin— cold enough to soothe her angry skin, but not frigid enough to leave her shivering. JJ then waves her hands a few times under the sensor for the soap dispenser, gathering a small pool of the antiseptic soap in her palm before spreading it along Emily's arm and hand.
Emily watches, entranced as the blonde's fingers carefully work the soap into suds against her skin. She can't help but feel warmed by the tender gesture. A small flush makes its way to her cheeks at the thought, clearing her throat carefully to fill the silence. "You're not going to take a dig at me, too? It's okay, I deserve to be humbled a bit."
The corner of JJ's mouth twitch up slightly. "I would never make fun of you, you know that," she swears softly. "I was more entertained by the banter between you and Rossi, if anything." She uses her pointer and middle finger to swirl small, gentle circles along reddened skin, frown over taking her features.
Emily grimaces. "It's bad?"
JJ clicks her tongue softly, cupping more water in her hands to rinse the soap. "Poison ivy is no joke. You're scratching yourself raw. Did you touch any other part of yourself?"
"Just my hand," the brunette responds, pausing a moment before adding, "I smacked Rossi with the same hand I was scratching with."
JJ's light laugh fills the room, causing an involuntary smile to appear on Emily's face at the sound. She shakes her head, grabbing some paper towels and starting to pat the older woman's skin dry. "Serves him right for picking on you."
A small chuckle passes between the two women before another comfortable silence fills the space. Emily watches as JJ takes the small, square wipes and uses them to rid her skin of the remaining poison ivy oils. She's careful to make sure she gets every inch of the older woman's skin cleaned: under her nails, in between her fingers, her knuckles.
"You're a natural at this," Emily murmurs suddenly, eyes growing slightly wide at the abruptness of her comment. She mentally cringes at herself, knowing that this moment would haunt her for the next decade whenever she had a moment to herself. Her cheeks burn, mouth open to apologize, because, seriously, what the fuck?
JJ just smiles, using another wipe to clean the other woman's arm. "It's no big deal. It's astonishing how common this was when I was a kid. One time, Ros and I—" For a brief second, there's a faraway look in the blonde's eyes, her smile faltering slightly. She blinks slowly, exhaling softly before continuing quietly. "We were playing in the woods behind my grandparents' farm and I tripped over a tree root face first into a patch of poison sumac."
Emily winces in sympathy, hissing out through her teeth.
JJ glances up at her, smirk back on her face. "Yeah," she agrees in amusement. "I had a rash covering head to toe for weeks. I couldn't stop itching the blisters." She gathers the used wipes and paper towels, scooping them up in a gloved hand before discarding them in a nearby trashcan.
"That sounds awful."
JJ just shrugs, very carefully avoiding the contaminated surface of her gloves as she peels them off and throws them out as well. "It was. But it was a lesson well learned. And I quickly became an expert on how to treat plant rashes."
Emily hums, sighing out as the blonde begins to rub in the anti inflammatory cream on her arms. Her voice sounds so soft, so unlike herself when she whispers, “Lucky me, then."
JJ beams up at her. "Lucky you," she agrees softly, clearing her throat as she rubs in the last of the ointment. "All set," she says softly.
Emily already feels a million times better, the itching sensation on her arms all but disappeared. She flexes her fingers gratefully, turning to the blonde with a genuine smile. "Thanks, Jayje. I owe you one."
"Don't worry about it,” JJ insists with a small shake of her head. Her voice drops an octave or two when she adds, “I didn’t mind.”
Both their eyes drift to JJ’s hand still gently caressing Emily’s arm. They both turn away at the same time, as if suddenly noticing the contact. A small blush blooms across the older woman’s face as the blonde drops her arm, clearing her throat.
"Just don't make a habit of digging around in poisonous plants, okay, Prentiss?” JJ teases after a moment, turning her head towards the brunette as she heads towards the door.
Emily rolls her eyes with a small snort, though a small smile spreads on her face. She leans her arm up to hold the door open for the blonde to pass through. “Yeah, yeah. Let it out. I’ll let it slide just this once, Jareau. Only because you helped me.”
JJ turns so that she’s facing the other woman again, walking backwards towards the guys with a playful smirk. “Gotcha.” She holds her hands up in finger guns. “Next time, I’ll let Hotch play doctor.”
Emily shudders, making a face at the thought. The sound of the blonde’s light, airy laughter fills her chest with warmth and comfort, causing another smile to tug at her lips in response. Her eyes follow JJ as she takes the seat in between Derek and Spencer, falling right back into work mode.
Emily turns her head away after, admittedly, a few seconds longer than she should have, only to find Rossi standing next to her. He’s holding a mug of coffee in one hand, not even bothering to hide his smirk, eyes alit with amusement.
Emily scowls, the tips of her ears burning. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Rossi insists a little too innocently, audibly sipping from his mug. “A thank you would be nice, though.”
Emily’s face scrunches up more, annoyed. “What for?”
“Nothing!” Rossi chortles, shaking his head and walking past Emily, leaving her standing there very confused, very annoyed and very, very red.