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The fluorescent lights of the New Orleans precinct buzzed overhead as Emily Prentiss shuffled through case files, trying to concentrate on the gruesome photos of murder victims instead of the sound of laughter coming from the other side of the room. Her dark eyes flicked up involuntarily, drawn to the source: JJ, their team's media liaison, was smiling at something Detective William LaMontagne Jr. had said. The detective had taken over his father's case after William Sr. had died during Hurricane Katrina, carving the word "Jones" into a piece of furniture with a shard of glass as his final act.
Emily watched as Will leaned closer to JJ, his Louisiana drawl carrying just enough for Emily to catch fragments of flirtation woven between case details. JJ tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, smiling politely.
"You getting anywhere with those?" Hotch asked, suddenly appearing at Emily's side.
She startled, fumbling with the files. "Just reviewing the victimology again. There's something about the pattern we're missing."
Hotch nodded, his expression impassive as always. "Keep at it. We need fresh eyes."
As he walked away, Emily's attention drifted back to JJ and Will. The detective was now showing JJ something on a map, standing unnecessarily close, his hand occasionally brushing against hers. Emily's chest constricted, a physical pain so sharp it momentarily stole her breath. She tried to tamp down the feeling rising in her throat, that uncomfortable mix of longing and despair she'd become all too familiar with since joining the BAU. She forced herself to look away, but the image burned itself into her retinas—Will's hand brushing JJ's, JJ's small smile in response.
When JJ had first introduced herself in Hotch's office—"Jennifer Jareau, JJ if you like"—Emily had been immediately captivated. It wasn't just that JJ was beautiful, though she certainly was. There was something about her presence, the quiet confidence with which she handled difficult situations, her compassion that never seemed to waver despite the horrors they encountered. Emily had fallen hard and fast, and the realization had terrified her.
For months, she'd kept her feelings carefully contained, locked away in a compartment like all the other uncomfortable truths in her life. She was good at compartmentalizing—it was a skill she'd perfected during her childhood of constant relocations and reinventions. But lately, the walls of that particular compartment had begun to crack.
"Prentiss." Morgan's voice broke through her thoughts. "You with us?"
Emily blinked, realizing the team had gathered around the evidence board. She quickly joined them, positioning herself as far from JJ and Will as possible while still remaining part of the circle.
"Detective LaMontagne has some insight on our unsub's connection to Jack the Ripper," Hotch said, nodding at Will.
The detective launched into an explanation about the letters their unsub had been sending, but Emily found herself only half-listening. She was too distracted by the way Will kept glancing at JJ, his eyes lingering a beat too long each time. When the briefing ended, Emily made a beeline for the coffee machine, desperate for something to occupy her hands.
"Hey." JJ appeared beside her, reaching for a mug. "You okay? You seem distracted."
Emily forced a smile. "Just tired. These late nights are catching up with me."
"Tell me about it." JJ sighed, pouring coffee for both of them. "Will says there's a decent hotel bar. Maybe we can grab a drink later, unwind a little?"
Emily's grip tightened on her mug. "Will says, huh?"
"Yeah, he's been really helpful," JJ said, oblivious to Emily's tone. "It can't be easy for him, taking over his father's case like this."
"I'm sure you're making it easier," Emily replied, immediately regretting the hint of bitterness in her voice.
JJ gave her a curious look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Sorry." Emily shook her head. "Like I said, I'm tired."
"Jayje," Will called from across the room, waving her over. "Got something you might want to see for the press release."
JJ glanced back at Emily. "We'll talk later?"
Emily nodded, watching as JJ walked away, Will's hand coming to rest briefly at the small of her back. The casual intimacy of the gesture felt like a knife twisting in Emily's gut.
Later that night, after a breakthrough in the case, they found themselves at the hotel bar Will had recommended. Emily sat at a table with Reid, listening to him explain the statistical improbability of various gambling strategies while she nursed her scotch.
Across the bar, Will had claimed the seat next to JJ, leaning in close to be heard over the jazz band playing in the corner. Emily watched as he made JJ laugh, her head tilting back slightly, blonde hair catching the light. Will's fingers brushed against JJ's arm, and Emily's stomach churned violently. The scotch turned acidic in her throat. She could practically feel the bile rising, threatening to choke her.
"I'm calling it a night," she announced, standing abruptly.
Reid looked up, surprised. "Already? It's only—"
"Headache," Emily lied, though in truth she felt physically ill. "See you in the morning."
She walked away before anyone could question her further, pausing only briefly to catch Hotch's eye and nod a goodnight. As she passed by JJ's table, she heard Will's voice, low and intimate: "Maybe we could get some dinner tomorrow night, after all this wraps up."
Emily didn't stay to hear JJ's response. She couldn't. Her legs carried her to the elevator on autopilot, her mind drowning in images she couldn't escape.
In her hotel room, Emily kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The case was progressing—they now knew their unsub was a woman, likely connected to Will's father through a case he had worked in sex crimes. Soon they would be heading back to Quantico, and Detective William LaMontagne Jr. would become a footnote in their case files.
Except Emily knew better. She'd seen the way he looked at JJ, the determination in his eyes. He wasn't the type to let geographic distance stand in his way. He would call, maybe visit. And why wouldn't JJ be interested? He was handsome, brave, dedicated to justice. Everything anyone would want.
Emily rolled onto her side, squeezing her eyes shut against the images that flooded her mind unbidden: JJ accepting Will's invitation to dinner, JJ laughing at his jokes, JJ inviting him up to her hotel room.
JJ kissing him.
JJ touching his chest.
Him taking off her dress.
The imagined scenes played out like a sickening film she couldn't stop, each frame more detailed and excruciating than the last. Emily lurched up from the bed and rushed to the bathroom, her stomach heaving. She leaned over the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain, breathing hard through her nose as she fought the wave of nausea. Nothing came up, but the physical reaction to her mental torment left her shaking and clammy.
"Get it together, Prentiss," she muttered to her pale reflection. But the images wouldn't stop—JJ's lips on his, her blouse falling to the floor, his hands on her skin. Emily turned on the cold water and splashed her face, trying to shock herself out of this downward spiral.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from JJ: "You disappeared. Everything okay?"
Emily stared at the message, thumb hovering over the keypad. She typed and deleted three different responses before finally settling on: "Just tired. See you tomorrow."
She set the phone down and tried to sleep, but her mind wouldn't quiet. The jealousy was a living thing inside her, choking her from within, turning her thoughts sick and desperate. She hadn't known it was possible to feel this way—to be physically ill from wanting someone she couldn't have, from imagining them with someone else.
By morning, Emily had composed herself enough to function professionally, though the dark circles under her eyes prompted concerned looks from both Hotch and Gideon. She avoided JJ as much as possible, volunteering to accompany Morgan to interview a witness while JJ stayed behind with Reid to prepare for the press conference.
The case was coming to a head—they now believed the unsub was Sarah Danlin, a former medical student who had been assaulted years ago, a case that Will's father had fought to pursue but had been undermined by his partner. By late afternoon, they were closing in on her location.
"Good work, everyone," Hotch said as they prepared for the arrest. "Let's bring her in safely."
Emily was checking her vest when Will approached JJ, standing close enough that Emily could hear their conversation.
"When this is over," he said, his drawl more pronounced than usual, "I'd like to take you out properly. Show you the real New Orleans."
Emily busied herself with her weapon, not wanting to hear JJ's response. But she couldn't block out Will's next words.
"I know you barely know me, but there's something here, don't you think?"
Emily's hands stilled. She waited, unable to breathe, for JJ's answer.
"Will, I—" JJ began, her voice soft.
"Just think about it," Will interrupted. "That's all I'm asking."
Emily moved away, heart hammering in her chest. She didn't need to hear more. The fact that JJ hadn't immediately shut him down told her everything she needed to know.
The arrest went smoothly. Sarah Danlin surrendered without resistance, almost relieved to be caught. As they processed her at the station, Emily found herself watching JJ, who was preparing for the press conference. Will hovered nearby, his attention firmly on JJ even as he discussed case details with Hotch.
On the jet home, Emily claimed a seat in the far corner, opening a book she had no intention of reading. The team was subdued, as they often were after cases, each processing in their own way. Morgan had his headphones on, Gideon was writing in his notebook, Reid was reorganizing his chess set, and Hotch was reviewing files.
JJ sat across from Emily, her blue eyes occasionally flicking up from her tablet. Finally, she set it down. "Okay, what's going on with you?"
Emily looked up, feigning confusion. "What do you mean?"
"You've been avoiding me since last night. Did I do something wrong?"
"Of course not," Emily said, too quickly. "I've just been focused on the case."
JJ raised an eyebrow. "The case is over, and you're still acting weird."
Emily sighed, marking her page and closing her book. "I'm not acting weird. I'm tired. It was a tough case."
"They're all tough cases," JJ countered. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Is this about Will?"
Emily's heart skipped a beat. "Why would it be about Will?"
"Because ever since he started talking to me, you've been...I don't know, distant." JJ studied her face. "Are you worried about me getting involved with someone while we're on a case? Because I wouldn't—"
"It's not that," Emily interrupted, desperate to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. "I just didn't sleep well. Really, JJ, everything's fine."
JJ didn't look convinced, but she let it drop, returning to her tablet. Emily turned toward the window, watching the clouds pass beneath them and trying to ignore the ache in her chest.
Over the next few months, Emily convinced herself that JJ and Will were seeing each other in secret. The detective called frequently enough that Emily noticed, and JJ often stepped away to take his calls. Emily told herself that JJ's privacy was her own business, that she had no right to feel betrayed by something that was never hers to lose. Still, each time JJ's phone lit up with Will's name, Emily felt another piece of her heart crack.
Then came the case in Miami. Four men murdered, including a detective who had worked with Will LaMontagne during a joint investigation years earlier. Emily's stomach dropped when Hotch announced that Detective LaMontagne would be joining them to provide insight into the victim's background.
"You okay with that?" Emily asked JJ quietly as they prepared to board the jet.
JJ looked surprised by the question. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I just thought... you might not want to mix personal and professional," Emily replied carefully.
"Oh," JJ said, understanding dawning in her eyes. "No, it's fine. Will's a good detective. He'll be helpful."
Emily nodded, trying not to read into JJ's neutral response. In her mind, it only confirmed what she already believed—that JJ and Will had been seeing each other and were now trying to keep it professional in front of the team.
The Miami heat was oppressive, clinging to their skin as they worked. The case was complex—a serial killer targeting men in the gay community, leaving bodies across the city. The team split up to cover more ground, with Emily and Rossi investigating the latest victim's personal effects while JJ coordinated with local law enforcement.
When Emily returned to the temporary headquarters they'd established, she found JJ and Will standing close together, speaking in low voices. Something tightened in Emily's chest at the sight.
"Any progress?" she asked, approaching them.
JJ looked up, her expression serious. "We're trying to determine why the latest victim, Charles Luvet, told his fiancée he was coming to Miami for a regatta when there isn't one scheduled."
Will nodded, his face drawn. "Charles was my partner. I never knew... I never even suspected he was living a double life."
Emily processed this information, her profiler's mind immediately making connections. "He was closeted. That changes the victimology significantly."
"We think all the victims may have been gay men who weren't out," JJ said. "Men who were vulnerable because they were hiding part of themselves."
Something in JJ's tone made Emily look at her more closely. There was a tension in JJ's shoulders, a careful neutrality in her expression that seemed deliberate. But before Emily could analyze it further, Hotch called them over to revise the profile.
As they worked to refine the profile, Emily found herself repeatedly thrown together with JJ and Will. The detective was undeniably affected by his partner's death, and Emily noticed that JJ kept finding reasons to check on him. Each time they spoke, Will would touch JJ's arm or stand just a little too close, and JJ never moved away. To Emily, it was just further confirmation of what she already believed.
One evening, as the team gathered to discuss the case, Emily overheard Will speaking to JJ in a hushed, frustrated tone.
"You still haven't told them about us?" he asked.
Emily froze, pretending to study the case file in front of her while straining to hear JJ's response.
"Will, please," JJ whispered. "Not here. Not now."
"When, then?" Will pressed. "I'm crazy about you, JJ. I don't want to keep hiding it."
Emily closed the file and walked away, her suspicions confirmed in the most painful way possible. She had been right all along—JJ and Will were together, and JJ was keeping it secret from the team. From her.
The case broke open the next day when they identified their unsub as Steven Fitzgerald, a man who had been struggling with his own sexuality and was targeting men who reminded him of himself. They traced him to a youth hostel where he had assumed the identity of his latest victim.
"He can't accept himself," JJ said during the final briefing. "His brother's death gave him permission to externalize all his self-hatred."
"It's easier to hate others than to face the truth about yourself," Hotch agreed grimly.
The words resonated with Emily, though not for the reasons they might have with the others. How much of her life had been shaped by fear—not fear of her own sexuality, which she had accepted long ago, but fear of vulnerability, fear of rejection, fear of watching someone she loved choose someone else?
The arrest went smoothly. Steven Fitzgerald surrendered without resistance when confronted with his true identity. As they processed him at the station, Emily found herself watching JJ, who was coordinating with local law enforcement to arrange transport for the unsub. Will hovered nearby, his attention firmly on JJ even as he discussed case details with Hotch.
Detective Lopez approached Emily, following her gaze. "Good work today."
"You too," Emily replied, dragging her eyes away from JJ and Will. "Thanks for your help with the youth hostel."
Lopez nodded toward Will and JJ. "He's been trying to get her attention all day. Old flame?"
Emily's stomach tightened. "Something like that."
"Well, if she's not interested..." Lopez let the implication hang in the air, giving Emily an appreciative once-over.
Emily managed a polite smile but offered no encouragement. Under different circumstances, she might have been flattered by the detective's attention, but her heart was too thoroughly occupied elsewhere.
After the final paperwork was completed, the team gathered their belongings, preparing to head back to the hotel before their morning flight. The Miami heat had barely abated with nightfall, the air thick with humidity as they stepped outside the police station.
"Anyone up for a drink?" Morgan suggested. "I know a place not far from the hotel."
"I'm in," Reid agreed. "The statistical likelihood of sleeping well the night after closing a case is actually quite low, so I might as well—"
"Kid, you had me at 'I'm in,'" Morgan interrupted, slinging an arm around Reid's shoulders.
Hotch checked his watch. "One drink. We have an early flight."
As they walked toward their SUVs, Emily found herself falling into step beside JJ. Will was a few paces ahead, deep in conversation with Rossi about some aspect of the case. Emily could feel JJ's presence beside her, hyper-aware of the slight brush of their arms as they walked.
"You okay?" Emily asked quietly.
JJ nodded, her expression unreadable in the dim light of the parking lot. "Just ready to go home."
Emily studied her profile, trying to gauge what was going on beneath JJ's composed exterior. "Will seemed pretty upset about his partner."
"Yeah," JJ agreed, her voice softening. "It's hard to realize you didn't really know someone you were close to."
The words hung between them, laden with meaning that Emily couldn't quite decipher. Before she could respond, they reached the vehicles, and the conversation dissolved into logistics about who would ride with whom.
At the bar—a low-key place with good music and better drinks—the team claimed a corner table, unwinding after the intensity of the case. Emily found herself seated between Morgan and Reid, with JJ directly across from her. Will had managed to secure the seat beside JJ, his attention focused entirely on her despite the group conversation flowing around them.
Emily tried not to watch as Will leaned close to JJ, speaking into her ear over the music. She tried not to notice the way his hand occasionally brushed against JJ's arm, or how he seemed to find excuses to touch her. Instead, she focused on her drink, on Morgan's story about a case he'd worked in Chicago, on anything other than the ache in her chest.
As the evening wore on, Emily excused herself to use the restroom, needing a moment away from the table, away from watching Will's persistent attention to JJ. When she returned, she found Hotch preparing to leave.
"I'm heading back to the hotel," he announced. "Morning briefing is at 7:30 sharp."
Rossi stood as well. "I'll join you. These old bones need their rest."
Reid, deep in conversation with Morgan about the psychological implications of identity assumption, barely noticed their departure. Emily reclaimed her seat, reaching for her nearly empty glass.
"I think I'm going to call it a night too," she said, more to herself than anyone in particular.
JJ looked up, meeting Emily's eyes across the table. Something passed between them, a silent communication that Emily couldn't quite interpret. Before she could analyze it, Will spoke.
"I should probably get going as well," he said, his eyes never leaving JJ. "Early flight tomorrow."
The awkward tension that followed was palpable. Emily watched as JJ shifted uncomfortably, her fingers fidgeting with her napkin. Will seemed to be waiting for something—an invitation, perhaps, or some acknowledgment of what he clearly hoped would develop between them.
Emily couldn't bear to watch any longer. Standing abruptly, she gathered her jacket. "See you guys in the morning."
As she turned to leave, she felt a hand on her arm. JJ had stood as well, her touch light but insistent. "I'll walk with you. I'm tired too."
Will's expression fell, but he recovered quickly, offering a strained smile. "Right. Well, good night then."
Emily felt a surge of conflicting emotions—confusion, hope, a vindictive satisfaction at the disappointment on Will's face that she immediately hated herself for. The jealousy that had been eating her alive these past months—turning her inside out, poisoning her dreams, making her physically ill—momentarily receded, replaced by bewilderment as JJ joined her, leaving Will behind.
They walked out of the bar in silence, the humid Miami night enveloping them as they stepped onto the sidewalk.
"The hotel's just a couple blocks this way," Emily said, gesturing vaguely to the right.
JJ nodded, falling into step beside her. They walked in silence for a moment, the sounds of the city at night filling the space between them—distant music, car horns, the occasional burst of laughter from passersby.
"Will seemed disappointed you left," Emily finally said, unable to help herself. Even now, with JJ beside her instead of him, she could feel the sick jealousy lurking, ready to drown her again at the slightest provocation.
JJ sighed, her pace slowing slightly. "He's been persistent since New Orleans."
"You should go for him," Emily heard herself say, the words escaping before she could stop them. "You would make a cute couple."
JJ stopped walking abruptly, turning to face Emily with an expression of such intensity that Emily took a step back. Without warning, JJ grabbed Emily's arm and pulled her away from the main street, down a narrow alley between two buildings. The space was dimly lit, secluded from the busy sidewalk they'd just left.
"JJ, what—" Emily began, confused by this sudden detour.
JJ cut her off, not with words but with action. In one fluid movement, she stepped forward, took Emily's face in her hands, and pressed their lips together.
The kiss was sudden, desperate, and electric. Emily stood frozen for only a second before something inside her snapped—all the months of yearning, jealousy, and restraint combusting in an instant. She flipped their positions and pushed JJ against the alley wall, their bodies flush together, her hands gripping JJ's waist with an urgency she couldn't control.
JJ gasped into her mouth, then matched her intensity, fingers tangling in Emily's hair, pulling her impossibly closer. Their tongues met, the kiss deepening with a hunger that shocked them both. Emily's hands slid under JJ's blouse, her fingertips grazing the warm skin of JJ's stomach, then higher, brushing the underside of her breast.
JJ moaned softly, her own hands growing bolder, one sliding down to grip Emily's ass while the other found its way beneath her shirt, palm pressing hot against Emily's ribs. The world narrowed to just this—their bodies pressed together in the dim alley, hands exploring, breaths mingling in desperate kisses.
Emily dragged her lips down JJ's neck, tasting salt and sweetness, feeling the thundering pulse beneath her tongue. JJ's head fell back against the wall, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. "Emily," she whispered, her voice ragged.
The sound of her name on JJ's lips broke through Emily's haze of desire. She pulled back slightly, both of them breathing hard, eyes locked in the dim light. The reality of where they were—an alley beside a busy Miami street, both of them practically trying to undress each other—suddenly registered.
"Oh my god," JJ breathed, her eyes wide but still dark with want. "I can't believe we—"
"I know," Emily said, her voice barely recognizable to her own ears. She reluctantly removed her hands from under JJ's blouse, watching as JJ did the same, both of them straightening their rumpled clothing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Don't apologize," JJ interrupted, her cheeks flushed. "Don't you dare apologize for that."
Emily swallowed hard, still feeling the imprint of JJ's body against hers. "JJ, what is this? What are we doing?"
JJ stepped forward again, not to resume their frantic embrace, but to take Emily's hands in hers. "What we should have done months ago."
Emily's brain struggled to catch up with what had just happened. JJ had kissed her. JJ had pressed against her, had moaned into her mouth, had touched her with the same desperate need Emily had been drowning in for months. JJ wanted her.
"I thought... Will..." Emily managed, the words sticking in her throat.
"I don't want Will," JJ interrupted, her voice low and urgent. "I've never wanted Will."
Emily stared at her, trying to process this declaration. "But he's been calling you since New Orleans. I've seen you take his calls, step away to talk to him."
"Because he wouldn't stop calling," JJ explained, frustration evident in her tone. "And I didn't know how to tell him to back off without making things awkward professionally."
Emily frowned, trying to reconcile this with the interactions she'd observed. "But tonight, at the bar, you seemed..."
"Uncomfortable," JJ finished for her. "Because he wouldn't take a hint. Because he kept touching me and leaning in close and I was trying to be polite."
"Oh," Emily said, feeling off-balance. All those moments she'd interpreted as intimacy between JJ and Will had been something else entirely. "I thought... I assumed..."
"You assumed wrong," JJ said firmly. She took a deep breath, "But I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just- I mean I didn't ask if it was ok if I- "
Emily finally found her voice, cutting through what she knew would be one of JJ's panicked ramblings if she didn't stop it. "JJ."
JJ fell silent, her expression a mixture of fear and resignation, as if expecting rejection or rebuke.
"Do it again," Emily whispered.
JJ blinked, uncertain. "What?"
"Kiss me again," Emily said, more firmly this time.
For a moment, JJ just stared at her, disbelief written across her features. Then, slowly, she stepped forward once more. This time, when their lips met, Emily was ready. She responded more specifically, one hand finding the small of JJ's back while the other tangled in her blonde hair.
The kiss deepened, months of unspoken longing pouring into it from both sides. Emily felt lightheaded, overwhelmed by the reality of JJ in her arms, JJ's lips against hers, JJ's body pressed close. When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, they remained close, foreheads touching.
"Where..." Emily had to pause, clear her throat. "Where the hell did all of this come from?"
JJ gave a shaky laugh, her hands still resting on Emily's shoulders. "It's been building for a while. I just... I didn't know how to tell you. How to explain."
"Try," Emily encouraged softly.
JJ took a deep breath. "I've been fighting it for so long. Fighting myself. I grew up in a small town where this—" she gestured between them, "—wasn't an option. Wasn't even discussed. I dated boys because that's what was expected. I buried anything else so deep I could almost pretend it wasn't there."
Emily nodded, understanding all too well how powerful denial could be.
"Then I joined the Bureau," JJ continued, "and everything was about proving myself, showing I was tough enough, smart enough. Dating women seemed like one more thing that would make me stand out, make me different when I just wanted to blend in."
"I get that," Emily said. "It's hard enough being a woman in this field without adding anything else to the mix."
JJ nodded. "But then you joined the team, and suddenly all those feelings I'd been ignoring came rushing back. Every time you walked into a room, every time you smiled at me... I couldn't ignore it anymore."
Emily felt a surge of wonder at these words. All this time, while she had been silently yearning, JJ had been feeling the same way. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Fear," JJ admitted. "Fear of rejection, fear of complicating our working relationship, fear of facing what it meant about me." She paused. "And lately, fear that you saw me with Will and thought... well, thought exactly what you did think."
Emily shook her head, still processing the revelation. "I was so sure you were interested in him. The way he looked at you, touched you... and you never pushed him away."
"Professional courtesy," JJ explained. "And maybe a little cowardice. It was easier to let him think there might be a chance than to have an awkward conversation about why there definitely wasn't."
Emily's thumb traced small circles at the base of JJ's spine, a grounding touch for both of them. "And now? What changed?"
"This case," JJ said. "Watching Steven Fitzgerald destroy himself and others because he couldn't accept who he was. Seeing how that kind of self-denial poisons everything it touches." She met Emily's gaze directly. "And when you said I should go for Will, something in me just... snapped. I couldn't let you believe that. Not for one more minute."
Emily felt a smile spreading across her face, a happiness she couldn't contain. "I'm glad you snapped."
JJ's eyes searched Emily's face. "What about you? How long have you...?"
"Felt this way about you?" Emily finished the question. She laughed softly. "Since the beginning. Since you introduced yourself in Hotch's office and smiled at me. I was a goner from that moment."
JJ's eyes widened. "That long? And you never said anything?"
"I told myself you were straight," Emily explained. "That you could never feel the same way. That I was just setting myself up for heartbreak." She shook her head ruefully. "I've spent months watching you with Will, convincing myself you were falling for him, torturing myself with images of the two of you together."
"There is no 'me and Will,'" JJ said firmly. "There never has been. There's only been you, Emily. Even when I was trying to deny it, it was always you."
Emily felt tears prickling at her eyes, overwhelmed by the truth of what was happening. She had spent so long believing this moment was impossible that now, faced with its reality, she hardly knew how to respond. So she did the only thing that made sense—she kissed JJ again, pouring everything she couldn't articulate into the contact.
This kiss was different from the first two—slower, deeper, more deliberate. Emily took her time exploring JJ's mouth, memorizing the feel of her lips, the taste of her. JJ responded in kind, her hands sliding up to tangle in Emily's dark hair.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Emily couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. "We should probably head back to the hotel."
JJ nodded, her cheeks flushed. "Probably. Though I'm not sure I can walk straight right now."
Emily laughed, feeling lighter than she had in months. "Me neither."
They emerged from the alley onto the main street, their hands finding each other naturally. As they walked toward the hotel, Emily felt almost overwhelmed by everything. She blinked a few times, making sure this wasn't all just in her imagination, and she squeezed JJ's hand a bit harder to ground herself.
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, processing the monumental shift that had occurred between them in the span of a few minutes. As they approached the hotel, Emily found herself wondering about the practical aspects of what came next.
"So," she began, "what happens now? With work, I mean."
JJ sighed. "I don't know. One step at a time? We don't have to figure everything out tonight."
Emily nodded, relieved that JJ wasn't pushing for immediate answers. "One step at a time sounds good."
They paused outside the hotel entrance, reluctant to enter the lobby where they might encounter their teammates. Emily glanced around, then tugged JJ toward a small garden area to the side of the building, seeking a few more moments of privacy.
"I just need to say," Emily began, once they were alone again, "that I never thought this could happen. I convinced myself so thoroughly that you couldn't possibly feel the same way that I'm still half-expecting to wake up."
JJ smiled, reaching up to touch Emily's face gently. "Not a dream. I promise."
"Good," Emily murmured, leaning in for another kiss, brief but tender. "Because I've been in love with you for so long that I don't remember what it was like not to love you."
JJ's breath caught. "Love?"
"Yes, love," Emily confirmed, unable to hold back the truth any longer. "Is that too much, too soon?"
"No," JJ whispered, her eyes shining. "It's not too soon. It's just right."
They stood together in the quiet garden, the Miami night humming around them, their bodies close, their hearts closer. Emily marveled at the turn her life had taken in a single evening—from resignation to joy, from loneliness to connection.
Tomorrow would bring complications, decisions, and adjustments. They would have to navigate the complexities of a relationship within their high-pressure jobs, within their close-knit team. But tonight, in this moment, none of that mattered. Tonight, there was only JJ in her arms, JJ's smile, JJ's kiss—real, not imagined.
And for Emily, who had spent months torturing herself with scenarios that existed only in her mind, the reality was infinitely sweeter than anything she could have made up in her head.
She realized that this must be what the brightside actually looked like.