Chapter Text
Prologue
Chicago, 2002
All work and no play makes Special Agent Emily Prentiss a very dull girl.
The dive bar was packed when she walked in. After running out of half-assed excuses to stay home, Emily caved to her very persistent new co-workers to join them for a Friday night drink.
The group of five agents stopped at the bar to pick up a few beverages before Sharon, a lovely blonde who had a sense of humor drier than her martini, led the pack to an empty booth off the edge of the dance floor. Emily hesitated before sliding into the booth second, not loving that she was boxed in with no chance of leaving early (and little chance to defend herself if it came to it); she gave a small smile to disguise her awkwardness.
Blake set into a rant about all the chaos from the week, allowing Emily to mentally prepare for what type of small talk she would have to make despite the last year of her life on paper being a lie. The best way of avoiding saying anything was to drink, so that was her first tactic.
“So, Emily, before you joined our wonderful crew you were on assignment with the other letters hey? Which ones? CIA? NSA? Oh no, MI5?” Gina inquired, letting her head fall on her hand.
“That’s classified,” Emily said bluntly after swallowing her gulp of liquor, the response practically a reflex. Immediately, Gina’s face fell. With a glance around the table, Sharon, Blake, and Dwayne all had disappointed expressions. Damn it, you’re supposed to be playing nice.
Painting a playful smirk back on her face, Emily forced herself to relax. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” The slight tension that she had created dissipated, and the group chuckled. Fake it ‘til you make it. “It was just some paper pushing, but Prague was nice and the amount of amazing hole in the wall pubs would astound you.”
Dwayne raised his eyebrows and playfully narrowed his eyes. “You? Going to pubs? We practically had to break out a crowbar to get you away from your desk.”
“Give the woman a break, she just got here like two weeks ago,” Blake smacked Dwayne’s shoulder, causing the man’s beer to slosh onto the table. Dwayne frowned dramatically before dipping his fingertips into the spilled liquid and flicking droplets in retaliation.
“No drink fights boys. We do not need Kelly reaming you out for it. Again,” Gina chastised, watching the two men begin to squabble.
Sharon cackled at that. “You’re right. We just need her to ream you!”
Blake and Dwayne burst into laughter, and then laughed harder at how Gina’s tipsy flush had spread across her face and down her neck.
Jumping at the opportunity to further steer the conversation away from herself, Emily placed her chin on her folded hands and leaned forward towards the blushing brunette. “So that’s why we got our drinks so fast.”
Gina regained her composure before complaining “I told you about my crush in confidence! Confidence I say! That does not mean bringing it up at the bar where she works!” The boy’s giggling quieted after that, and Sharon patted Gina’s hand with false sympathy.
“With any luck she’ll overhear, and you will be able to stop pining.” Emily smiled at her co-worker’s antics before taking a sip from her drink. Only a few drops slid into her mouth.
With a shake of the empty glass, Emily was released from the booth and made her way back to the bar. The after-work rush had died down a bit, but there were still enough suits lingering that she leaned against the bar and settled down for a decent wait.
It took ten minutes to return to the booth with her vodka cran, but when she walked up it seemed that her place had been taken. Sharon had shifted into her spot and Blake had followed the movement to allow for a man to sit at the edge of the booth.
Everyone turned their attention to her, but her eyes were on the newcomer. Short hair buzzed close to the skull with a set of startlingly perfect teeth shaped into a cocky grin and dark eyes; the man was beyond fit, shown off in a fitted tee, medium wash jeans, and a flannel tied around his waist. The tattoos peaking out of the shirt completed to delicious look. I always have liked to bad boys.
“We promise you haven’t been replaced,” Sharon joked, pulling Emily away from her assessment. “This is an old cop friend of Dwayne’s who’s in town for a visit.”
Emily turned back to the man and noticed that he seemed to be in the middle of his own appraisal. Before she could say anything, he stood up from the booth. Tall on top of dark and handsome, Emily mused as she noticed that even in her kitten heels, he was looking down at her.
A hand extended towards her. “Derek Morgan,” he said, his voice low and musical.
“Emily Prentiss.” She placed her hand in his, and while she may be out of practice and mistaken, Emily could have sworn that his hand lingered after a few firm shakes.
“I hear you’re the newbie for this bunch. My condolences,” Derek said as Emily slid into the booth once more. Surprisingly, instead of sitting across the table next to Dwayne, he pressed in next to her.
“Hey now, that’s not nice. Just cause you’re a big shot now doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be nice to the little folks,” Dwayne mock scolded, lightly smacking the tabletop. Emily raised her eyebrows and turned to Derek for an explanation of the “big shot” comment and was met with his face startlingly close to hers.
“Just joined a specialized field unit. Profilers.” Derek tipped his tumbler to her before taking a swig.
“I would love a bit of action like you, but that requires field agent certification and more school. Could you imagine? It would be like NCIS in real life!” Gina chirped, and Blake and Sharon agreed.
“Ugh, no way in hell would I want to chase after more thugs in the field. I did enough of that on the street,” Dwayne claimed, “I love my cubicle and I will never leave it.” The group turned to hear her opinion.
“I hear its… physically demanding,” Emily said vaguely, not wanting to say the wrong thing. Derek grunted his confirmation. Sensing her discomfort and stiffness, he launched into an old story about Dwayne and himself in the police academy.
The conversation flowed smoothly, from academy memories to workplace mishaps to social life disaster stories. Derek fit into the group seamlessly, and the group got more and more comfortable as the rounds kept coming. One perk of a desk job is no emergencies at the ass crack of dawn on Saturdays, Emily thought as she finished off her next drink.
She couldn’t be sure when, but between Blake getting up to get the last round and now Derek’s arm had wrapped around her and rested lightly across her shoulders. It was surprisingly comfortable and soothing, something Emily hadn’t felt when she was close to a man since before… her last assignment.
“Care to dance?” Despite the noise of the bar, Emily heard his words crystal clear next to her ear.
One confident nod later, they were in the middle of the busy dance floor. It had been nearly two years since Emily had last danced with an unfamiliar partner, but between the familiar beat of the music and Derek’s sure steps, muscle memory came back quickly.
The bar had an eclectic playlist; first it was pop, then old school rock, then a country two stepper. Derek didn’t miss a move, smoothly transitioning from style to style.
It wasn’t long before their dancing took a turn. With Derek’s hands glued to her hips and his hips pressed against her ass, Emily knew that the heat she was feeling wasn’t from the sweaty dancers around them. Lightly grabbing his wrist, she spun around to face him.
“Wanna get out of here?” Derek asked, tucking a free lock of hair behind her ear.
“Let me grab my jacket.”
Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzz.
Emily jumped at the sound of her alarm, flopping back into her pillow with a groan. Monday morning had come too quickly after her adventurous weekend. After leaving the bar, the pair had made their way back to her apartment. Lucky for Emily, Elizabeth Prentiss had taken it upon herself to procure and decorate the apartment for her daughter when she learned that Emily would be stateside for her new posting, which meant that the apartment was far more cohesive and put together than Emily herself.
Derek had raised his eyebrows at the posh space on Friday night, the taste far more expensive than an FBI agent could afford but did not to comment as they made their way to her kitchen. After asking for his colour preference Emily reached up above her fridge to snag a bottle of wine, causing her shirt to ride up to just below her bra.
The wine was quickly forgotten to say the least.
God the place is a mess, Emily thought, hands smacking against her face. The kitchen, living room, bedroom, and bathroom all need some straightening.
Rolling out of bed, Emily got to work on her morning routine after determining that there was too much work to do in the forty-five minutes she had before leaving for the office. The shower was painfully short, and Emily only had time to do a basic layer of makeup and pulling the last clean outfit out of her closet before running out the door. The weekend was supposed to be for laundry and grocery shopping, but that was thrown out the window when Derek had mentioned he wasn’t flying back to Quantico until Sunday evening.
A short stop at a local breakfast takeaway and a long wait in traffic later, the Chicago FBI office was in sight. Parking was easy with her assigned stall, and Emily was seated at her desk with enough time to eat her breakfast sandwich and chug her coffee before her co-workers came in and inevitably grilled her for details.
The last drop of coffee passed her lips when she heard the dreaded ding of the elevator. The post weekend chatter cut off when Sharon and Gina saw her already at her desk, and Emily knew what was coming.
“How was your weekend? What happened with Derek?” Leave it to Sharon to not beat around the bush.
“I heard a rumour the Derek canceled his ride to the airport with Dwayne on Sunday. What’s that all about?” Gina giggled, coming up to sit on the corner of Emily’s desk. Emily knew how this would end, she had seen her coworkers squeeze information out of people with their intense stare, so she gave the only answer she could think of.
“I don’t kiss and tell.”