Archive of Our Own

Emily sat at her desk in the bullpen, carefully scribbling notes on her latest independant profile. They had been without a case for a week, meaning that they had all been getting a little bored.

The rest of the team was scattered around the room, each immersed in their tasks as they worked through their own files, but as the clock ticked, her attention span was beginning to wane. As she looked over to Derek, she decided a little harmless prank might lighten the mood a little. 

Her plan was subtle but effective: replace the sugar in his coffee with salt. It wasn’t the most original idea, but it was simple, and she figured it would get the desired reaction. As he stepped away from his desk to take a phone call, she seized the opportunity. Moving quickly but casually, she strolled over to his desk and poured two salt sachets into his mug, before retreating to her own chair, feigning innocence.

A few minutes later he returned, and instantly reached for his mug. She watched from her peripheries, barely containing her grin as he took a long sip. His expression shifted immediately from confident to confused, then horrified.

“ What the —” He sputtered, nearly choking as the offending drink assaulted his taste buds. His face twisted in a grimace as he coughed, barely stopping himself from spitting the liquid back into the cup.

“ REID !” he bellowed, his voice echoing across the room. The sharpness in his tone made Emily smirk, as Spencer, seated at his desk nearby, flinched and lifted his head in wide-eyed alarm.

“What?!” He stammered, his voice pitching higher than usual. Confusion and panic were evident in his tone as he turned toward Derek, who was now glaring daggers in his direction.

“You don’t mess with the coffee, man!” Derek called out, his voice a mix of anger and betrayal. He gestured emphatically with the mug in his hand, as if presenting ‘Exhibit A’ in an unsolved crime.

Spencer’s furrowed brow deepened. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his expression a perfect picture of genuine confusion.

Derek froze mid-rant, his mind grinding to a halt. Pieces of the puzzle started to shift into place, and as clarity dawned, his accusing gaze slid away from Spencer and onto someone else entirely.

“ You !” he called, jabbing an exaggerated finger in Emily’s direction, his tone dripping with theatrical accusation.

Emily, still smirking, leaned back in her chair casually, feigning innocence. “ Me ?” she asked, her voice lilting with mock surprise.

“Yes, you !” Derek declared, taking a step closer. “You did this!” He held up the offending cup as though it were damning evidence.

She blinked up at him with feigned innocence. “What? Something wrong with your coffee, Derek?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, before returning to his desk and setting his mug down with exaggerated care. “Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, her tone laced with mock sincerity. “Maybe you just need to clean your coffee mug better.” 

Morgan’s laugh was low and dangerous. “Okay, Prentiss. Game on.”

The rest of the morning passed without incident—at least on the surface. Emily knew better than to believe Morgan would let her prank go unanswered. By the time the team regrouped in the conference room around lunch time, she was on high alert. They were reviewing a few potential cases when she noticed Morgan’s sly smirk.

It wasn’t until she placed her arms on the armrests of her chair that she felt something odd. She shifted slightly and frowned, realising her hands felt… sticky. Her heart sank as she glanced down and saw a faint sheen of something clear and gooey. She shot Morgan a glare, and he gave her an innocent shrug, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“ Really, Morgan?” She hissed, her tone low but dripping with irritation as the rest of the team shared glances between them. Some wore amused expressions, while others, like Hotch, appeared thoroughly exasperated.

“What’s up?” Derek asked, his face the picture of mock innocence. The way he leaned back in his chair and smirked mirrored the playful defiance Emily herself had thrown at him earlier in the day.

Her eyes narrowed. “Derek, if that’s lube… So help me God —” she began, pushing her chair back abruptly and rising to grab some tissues from the table nearby.

“Woah, woah! No!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “It’s hand sanitiser! Chill!”

Hotch raised an unimpressed eyebrow in Derek’s direction, the slight tilt of his head conveying his disapproval far more effectively than words.

She sighed, shaking her head. “ You’re ridiculous ,” she muttered under her breath. Yet, despite her irritation, the corners of her mouth twitched as if she couldn’t quite suppress a smile.

She returned moments later with tissues in hand, meticulously wiping the excess sanitiser from her palms. As she passed by Derek’s side, she paused, fixing him with a pointed look.

“Give me your chair,” she said bluntly, though a teasing smirk tugged at her lips.

Derek’s eyes widened. “What? No!” he protested, clutching the armrests as though his chair were a lifeline.

She didn’t wait for further argument, instead she grabbed the back of the chair and began tilting it just enough to force him off balance.

“Alright, alright!” he relented, hastily moving to swap chairs as laughter bubbled up from the others, who were doing their best to keep their composure but failing miserably.

She plopped down in his chair triumphantly and tossed a few tissues in his direction, the gesture so casual it was almost dismissive. “You might want those,” she quipped, a wicked sparkle in her eyes as she leaned back and picked up the case file as if nothing had happened.

Derek, now seated in Emily’s vacated chair, let out a dramatic huff as he began wiping down the armrests with the tissues she’d tossed him. Hotch shot him another sharp glare, his stern expression practically screaming exasperation, while Rossi chuckled quietly, shaking his head at the chaos.

Derek muttered under his breath, though the ghost of a grin tugged at his lips.

A few hours later, the bullpen had grown quiet again. Derek was fully engrossed in his case file, his pen tapping rhythmically against the desk as he studied the details. Emily, however, had other plans.

She had spent the last fifteen minutes carefully preparing. With JJ and Penelope’s help as a lookout, and Spencer’s unintentional yet brilliant suggestion earlier in the day, she set her trap. Now all that was left was to wait.

“Morgan!” she called out, her voice tinged with urgency.

He looked up from his desk, startled. “What?”

“Can you check the printer? It’s jammed again and I don’t know how to fix it.” She said, gesturing toward the far corner of the room where the old, notoriously finicky printer sat as she returned to her desk.

He sighed heavily, muttering about how he always ended up doing the grunt work as he rose from his seat. “You owe me for this, Prentiss,”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll buy you coffee or something,” she replied nonchalantly, hiding her grin behind a folder.

As he walked over to the printer, Penelope and JJ joined Emily by her desk, barely able to contain their giggles.

Derek crouched in front of the printer, pulling open its drawer to inspect the supposed jam. His brow furrowed as he peered inside.

“Emily, there’s nothing wrong with this thing—”

Before he had the chance to finish his sentence, a loud noise erupted from the printer, accompanied by an explosion of colourful confetti that burst into the air and rained down over him. He froze, his hands still gripping the printer drawer, as the bullpen erupted into laughter.

“Are you kidding me?!” he exclaimed, standing up and brushing bits of confetti from his shoulders.

Emily was doubled over at her desk, laughing so hard tears pricked at her eyes. “Your face!”

JJ clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter, while Spencer looked genuinely impressed. “That was an impressive application of compressed air mechanics!” he said, nodding appreciatively.

“It’s a rainbow!” Penelope squealed excitedly, running over to scoop up the confetti and rain it over Derek over and over again.

Rossi walked out of his office and leant against the door frame, shaking his head in amusement as a smirk teased at his lips. “You walked right into that one, kid.”

Hotch, who had also risen from his desk and was now standing in his own doorway with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. “Prentiss, do I even want to know how you managed to rig the printer?”

“Physics magic, sir,” She replied, still grinning, as she turned her gaze toward Spencer, sharing a knowing nod.

Derek, now standing in a pile of confetti, pointed a finger at her. “You think this is funny? You wait, Prentiss. Payback is coming.”

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, a smug smile on her face. “Bring it on, Morgan.”

“Clean it up…” Hotch said dryly, rubbing a hand over his face in resignation, before taking one last look at the scene and returning to his office.

“Yes sir!” They all echoed in unison, still fighting through fits of giggles. As Derek stalked back to his desk, muttering about betrayal, he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath. Despite the prank, he had to admit—it was a good one.

As the day came to an end, they decided to head to a cozy local Japanese restaurant, a favourite spot that Emily had suggested. It was a quiet place with dim lighting, paper lanterns casting a warm glow, and the faint sound of trickling water from a decorative fountain in the corner. After a long week, the chance to relax as a group was exactly what they needed.

Plates of sushi and steaming bowls of ramen filled the table, accompanied by glasses of sake and bottles of beer.

“This was a good idea,” Rossi said, leaning back against the wall with a satisfied sigh.

“Agreed,” Hotch added, his usually stern expression softened as he took a swig of beer.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Reid eat this much,” JJ teased, nodding at Spencer, who was carefully picking up a piece of sushi with the fork he had requested.

“I skipped lunch,” He defended, though his cheeks reddened slightly as the others laughed.

“You mean you forgot to eat because you were buried in a book,” Emily quipped, smirking.

“Same thing,” He muttered, a smile working its way onto his face, earning another round of chuckles.

As the meal continued, stories and laughter flowed freely. Derek, still playfully salty about the printer prank, pointed his chopsticks at Emily. “You better watch your back, Prentiss. I’ve got something good brewing for you.”

Emily smirked, raising her beer. “Bring it, Morgan.”

Eventually, the women excused themselves to head to the restroom. Hotch, ever the responsible leader, stood and made his way to the front of the restaurant to settle the bill, brushing off Rossi’s offer to split it.

Meanwhile, back at the table, Derek leaned over toward Spencer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You think they’re planning something?”

“Who?” Spencer asked, blinking.

“The girls,” Derek replied, nodding toward the restroom. “They’ve been way too quiet for the last five minutes. That usually means trouble.”

Rossi chuckled. “You’re paranoid, Morgan.”

“I’m prepared,” Derek said, sitting back in his chair and casting a suspicious glance toward the hallway where the women had disappeared, before his lips curled into a mischievous grin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small container filled with dark red powder, holding it up to the light to examine its contents.

“What is that?” Spencer asked, watching as Derek unscrewed the lid.

“Chili powder,” He said with a proud grin. “Carolina Reaper, to be exact.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “You do know that’s one of the hottest peppers in the world, right? That stuff’s over two million Scoville units!”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek replied with a smirk, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “She wants to prank me? Fine. Let’s see how she likes this.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow as Derek carefully tilted the small container, aiming to tip a delicate pinch of the powder into the remainder of Emily’s beer. His hand was steady, but the powder came out faster than he expected, spilling a small heap into the glass. Derek winced, his lips pressing into a thin line, and for a moment, he hesitated, staring at the murky swirl the powder created as it dissolved into the liquid. Then, with a nonchalant shrug, he dismissed the mishap, assuming it would still be fine and gave the glass a quick swirl with a flick of his wrist, watching the liquid settle, before tucking the container back into his pocket.

Rossi chuckled and shook his head, his amusement growing. “Oh, you’re going to be a dead man , Morgan,” he said with a resigned sigh. Still, his grin betrayed that he was looking forward to the fallout.

A few minutes later the women returned and Emily slid back into her seat beside Derek, her smirk barely concealed as she grabbed her chopsticks and popped the last piece of tempura into her mouth.

“What?” Derek asked, his voice tinged with suspicion as he glanced sideways at her.

“Nothing,” she replied, her tone light and innocent, though the twinkle in her eye said otherwise.

Before Derek could probe further, Hotch returned, slipping the receipt into his pocket. “All settled,” he said. “Let’s finish up and call it a night.”

The group began collecting their things, finishing off their drinks and the last bites of food, as Emily reached for her beer, tipping the bottle back for a final swig.

The moment the liquid hit her tongue, she paused, her nose scrunching in confusion.

And then it hit her.

Her eyes widened as the heat built rapidly, spreading from her tongue to the back of her throat, then down her chest moving with the liquid. She coughed lightly at first, but it quickly escalated into a fit of spluttering.

“Derek!” she managed to gasp, her voice hoarse as she turned to him with a fiery glare.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his grin smug and triumphant. “What? Something wrong with your drink, Prentiss?”

She coughed harder, grabbing her napkin and fanning her face as her cheeks turned bright red. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she reached frantically for her water, only to find the glass empty.

JJ, caught between concern and laughter, handed over her untouched water, and she took it gratefully, gulping it down, though it did absolutely nothing to ease the burn.

“You son of a—” Emily started, but her words were cut off by another coughing fit.

Rossi and Derek both burst out laughing, unable to contain themselves any longer. “I take it back, Morgan. That was genius.” Rossi said as he clapped Derek on the back.

Emily’s eyes widened in sheer panic as the heat consumed her, her body trembling as if flames licked at her skin. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, her face flushed crimson, and she looked at JJ with pure terror. “Oh my god,” she choked out, her voice strained and raw.

Unable to sit still, she shot up from her seat, leaving her bag behind as she headed toward the restaurant door. “I—I need air,” she managed, her hand clutching her throat as though that might somehow stop the burning.

The rest of the team followed her out, laughter bubbling up among them.

Outside, the crisp evening air did little to cool her down. She leaned over, bracing herself on her knees, coughing hard. “ Oh my god ,” she muttered again, her voice barely audible.

JJ and Penelope hurried to her side, both rubbing her back soothingly. “It’s okay, Em. It’ll pass.” JJ said comfortingly.

Emily turned her head sharply, her tear-streaked face a mask of agony. “No, JJ, I’m on fire! ” she rasped, each word punctuated by a desperate gasp.

Derek leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching with a satisfied grin. Rossi and Spencer stood nearby, both shaking with silent laughter, while Hotch simply raised an eyebrow at Derek.

“Carolina Reaper,” Derek said with a shrug, looking almost proud.

Hotch’s resigned expression said it all as he nodded slowly. “I can see that,” he replied dryly, crossing his arms and sighing deeply.

Emily, catching the sound of Derek’s voice, whirled toward him. “Fix this!” she ordered, her voice cracking as she waved her hands in his direction like she wanted to wring his neck but lacked the energy.

Derek grinned sheepishly. “You’ve just gotta ride it out Princess,” he said, trying not to laugh as her glare intensified.

“Ride it out?” She repeated, incredulous. “ Ride it out?!”  

She let out a groan of frustration, pacing in uneven circles as she tried to take deep, steadying breaths. It wasn’t working. She tore off her jacket and shoved it against Derek’s chest.

“Hold this!” she snapped, her voice hoarse. “And fix this! ” She said gesturing to herself.

Sensing he might actually be in trouble now, Derek looked around, spotting a small corner store down the street with a neon “OPEN” sign. “Okay, okay! I’ll be right back!” he said, raising his hands in surrender, before sprinting off in search of ice cream.

The rest of the team slowly gathered around Emily, who was now leaning forward again, her hands on her knees. 

JJ handed her a fresh bottle of water. “Here, drink this,” she said softly as she placed her hand on Emily’s back again.

Emily took a swig but quickly shoved the bottle back into JJ’s hands, grimacing. “It’s not working!” she croaked. As she began trying to take some deep, steadying breaths, she suddenly looked up at JJ with a cold, determined expression. “Take my gun.”

JJ blinked in confusion. “What?”

“ Take my gun! ” She repeated, fumbling to unclip it from her belt and handing it to JJ.

The team exchanged confused glances. “Why?” JJ asked cautiously, glancing at Hotch and Rossi for guidance, both of whom shrugged, not having any idea where this was going.

Emily straightened up, breathing heavily. “Because when Derek comes back, I might just shoot him.”

They all shared half amused, half concerned smiles between themselves while Rossi let out a deep chuckle, clapping his hands together. JJ raised her eyebrows but eventually nodded, carefully taking the weapon from Emily.

“ Okayyy ,” she said, biting her lip to hold back a laugh as she slipped the gun into her bag for safe keeping. “I’ll keep a hold of this.”

When Derek returned, slightly out of breath from his sprint to the corner store, he held out a tub of ice cream and a plastic spoon. Emily snatched it from his hands without a word, ripping off the lid and immediately shoveling a large spoonful into her mouth.

“Better?” He asked after a moment, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

She paused, the relief from the cold only marginal, before slowly turned to Derek, fixing him with a glare so sharp it could’ve cut steel. “I will kill you,” she hissed, her voice low and menacing.

The rest of the team erupted into laughter again, JJ covering her mouth to stifle a giggle while Rossi chuckled heartily. Even Hotch allowed himself a quiet smirk.

She continued eating, but after a few more spoonfuls, her expression didn’t improve. She whined, her voice cracking with frustration. “It’s not getting better!”

“It’s okay, Em,” JJ said soothingly, reaching out to pat her shoulder.

“It’s not okay,” Emily snapped, shoving the tub of ice cream back into Derek’s hands. “Here! You eat it. It’s useless !”

Derek caught the ice cream, his grin faltering as he began to feel a twinge of guilt.

She leaned heavily against the rough brick wall, her hands braced firmly on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. Each inhale came in short, rapid bursts, her chest rising and falling unevenly. “Oh my god. Oh my god ,” she muttered under her breath, the words tumbling out in a frantic mantra as if repeating them would ground her. Her pacing began again, her boots clicking against the pavement as she moved restlessly down the dimly lit street, desperate to outrun the unbearable heat that radiated from within her.

She tugged at the hem of her shirt, untucking it with a quick, frustrated motion. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons at the top, popping them open one by one in a frantic bid to cool her overheated skin. The humid night air barely provided relief, and it didn’t take long before she was on the verge of peeling the garment off entirely.

Before she could make good on the impulse, JJ and Penelope sprang into action, closing the distance with hurried steps. “Okay, okay, let’s keep that on,” JJ urged, her tone walking the fine line between firm and reassuring as she reached out to steady Emily. Penelope nodded vigorously, adding, “Yeah, we’re not about to let you cause a scene out here. Deep breaths, Em.”

The team followed her, their earlier amusement fading as the situation dragged on.

Spencer frowned, watching Emily’s erratic pacing. “Wait… Emily, are you allergic to chili?”

“What?!” Derek’s eyes widened in alarm, “That’s a thing? People can be allergic to chili?!”

Penelope stopped dead in her tracks as she turned to face him, her expression a mix of disbelief and fury. “Are you serious, Derek Morgan? Of course, that’s a thing!”

She slapped his chest, punctuating her words with each smack. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to poor Emily?!”

He flinched under her assault. “Okay, okay! Calm down. She’s probably just, you know, sensitive or something!”

“Sensitive?” Penelope scoffed, throwing her hands up. “ Sensitive ?! Look at her, Morgan! She looks like she’s about to spontaneously combust!”

Meanwhile, Emily, still pacing, groaned loudly. “Oh my godddddd, this is how I die,” she muttered, throwing her hands up.

Rossi approached, his usual calm demeanour barely hiding his amusement. “Emily, do you need a hospital?”

“No!” she snapped, before immediately backtracking. “Maybe. I don’t know. Ughhhhhh !”

Derek hesitated, stepping forward with genuine concern. “Emily, are you okay? Like, actually okay?”

She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him. “No, Morgan, I am not okay,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I’m on fire. And it’s your fault. FIX IT .”

Derek, now officially panicking, looked to the rest of the team for help. “What do we do? Someone tell me what to do!”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky she hasn’t passed out yet. Honestly, Morgan, think! ”

Hotch stepped in now, his tone calm but authoritative. “Let’s get her some milk. It’s the quickest way to neutralise the capsaicin.”

Derek perked up. “Milk! Right! I’ll get some!” He handed the ice cream to Penelope and bolted back toward the corner store, this time determined to actually fix the mess he’d caused.

As they waited, Emily groaned again, leaning heavily on JJ. “It’s not ending... Why isn’t it ending .”

She leaned against another wall, her skin a deep shade of red, her shirt soaked through with sweat. Her makeup had long since melted into streaks as tears streamed down her face like tiny rivers. She sniffled and groaned, lifting her hands to wipe at her eyes.

“Don’t,” Hotch’s calm but firm voice broke through the chaos. His presence was commanding yet steady as he stepped forward, gently intercepting Emily’s hands before they could reach her eyes. He carefully lowered them, his grip firm but not forceful. “If you touch your eyes, it’ll make it worse.”

She let out a long, frustrated groan, her head falling back against the wall as though the weight of the entire situation were bearing down on her. “What the fuck did he give me,” she muttered, her voice hoarse and raw.

Hotch paused, his usually composed face showing a faint wince as he hesitated. Finally, he spoke, his tone measured but with an unmistakable edge of sympathy. “Chilli powder… Carolina Reaper…”

Her eyes widened, and she let out another agonised groan, this one dragging into a long, pitiful, “Oh my goddddddd .” She pushed off the wall, pacing back and forth with her hands on her stomach as if trying to physically contain the fire burning inside her.

Derek reappeared then, looking uncharacteristically sheepish as he jogged up, a carton of milk clutched in his hands like a peace offering. “Here, Em,” he said quickly, stepping in front of her and twisting the cap off.

She didn’t hesitate. She snatched the carton out of his hands without a word, tilting it back and gulping the milk as if her life depended on it. Derek placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her as she drank, his expression softening with genuine concern as her hands trembled around the carton.

After several seconds, she lowered the milk, catching her breath. She bent forward slightly, her free hand on her knee as she tried to gather herself, and Derek tilted his head, watching her carefully. “Better?” he asked, his voice cautious.

She opened her mouth as if to respond, but instead, her body jerked forward suddenly. Before anyone could react, she doubled over and threw up directly onto Derek’s shoes.

“Woah! Whoa! Emily!” Derek shouted, stumbling back with a look of sheer horror, his hands flying up in surrender. “You could’ve given me a warning!”

She looked up and shot him an icy glare, her face flushed and her voice low and venomous. “You don’t deserve a warning,” she spat hoarsely, before doubling over again and throwing up once more.

Hotch and JJ immediately leant down to help her. JJ reached forward, gently pulling her hair back from her face, while Hotch steadied her by the shoulders, his expression shifting from composed leader to concerned friend.

“It’s okay, Em,” JJ said softly, rubbing her back in slow circles. “Just get it out. You’ll feel better.”

Meanwhile, Derek stood frozen, staring down at his ruined shoes with a mix of disgust and disbelief. “Oh, come on! ” he whined, glancing over at Penelope, who was glaring at him with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“This is all on you, Derek Morgan,” she said, her tone sharp as she jabbed a finger at him.

“I was just trying to have a little fun! She started it!” Derek protested, motioning helplessly toward Emily, who was still hunched over.

At that, Emily, JJ, and Hotch all lifted their heads in unison, their glares sharp enough to cut through steel. He flinched under the combined force of their stares, just as Emily groaned again and leaned forward for another round.

“Does this look like fun to you?” Penelope snapped, motioning emphatically to Emily, who let out a pitiful groan in response.

Rossi stepped closer, shaking his head with a dry chuckle. “Morgan, you’d better sleep with one eye open for the next week. Maybe two, just to be safe.”

Derek sighed, running a hand down his face as the weight of everyone’s disapproval sank in. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

“Nope,” the team said in unison.

Still hunched over, Emily muttered weakly, “I’m going to kill you,” her voice hoarse but laced with dark promise.

The group chuckled nervously, though the concern in their expressions was clear.

JJ grabbed a bottle of water from Penelope’s bag and handed it to Emily. “Here,” she said softly. “Rinse your mouth out.”

She took the bottle and did as instructed, straightening up with JJ and Hotch’s help.

“You okay?” JJ asked, her tone gentle as she brushed Emily’s hair back from her damp, flushed face.

Emily leaned heavily against the wall again, her eyes still glassy and her breathing ragged. “No,” she croaked, turning her gaze to Derek with a glare that could have frozen fire. “But I’ll be fine. Eventually. ”

Derek swallowed hard under her gaze, his usual charm nowhere to be found.

As she leaned back against the wall, clutching her stomach with one hand and the water bottle with the other, Penelope smacked Derek on the arm. “If she doesn’t kill you first, I might.”

“Guys,” Derek interjected, his voice tinged with guilt as he glanced between Emily and Penelope. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I didn’t know it would—”

“You didn’t know?” Spencer cut in, his brows shooting up in disbelief. “Derek, it’s literally one of the hottest peppers in the world. What did you think was going to happen?”

He opened his mouth, but Rossi held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t answer that. There’s no excuse good enough, you’ll just keep digging the whole deeper.”

Emily groaned again, clutching her stomach as her knees threatened to buckle as the adrenaline began to wear off. JJ quickly moved to steady her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Okay, that’s it,” she said firmly. “We’re taking her home. She needs rest and a lot of water.”

“Don’t forget ice cream,” Emily muttered hoarsely. “Buckets of it. And maybe a fire extinguisher…”

“I’ve got one in the car,” Hotch said dryly, already pulling his keys from his pocket. “Come on, let's go.”

The team sprang into action, rallying around her as she walked forward with JJ supporting her. Derek lingered awkwardly at the back of the group, his usual swagger replaced with a look of pure regret.

“I’m really sorry, Em,” he said quietly as they reached the car.

Emily turned her head just enough to glare at him, her face still flushed and streaked with tears. “Derek,” she said, her voice low and menacing despite her exhaustion and scalded insides, “you’d better pray I don’t feel better anytime soon, because the second I do…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but the ominous silence spoke volumes.

As Hotch and JJ helped Emily into the back seat, Derek turned to Penelope. “Do you think she’s serious?” he asked, his voice tinged with nervous laughter.

Penelope didn’t even look at him as she climbed into the front seat. “Oh, she’s serious,” she said matter-of-factly. “And honestly? I hope she makes you sweat as much as she just did.”

Most of the team piled into the car, With Rossi and Spencer pairing off to head in the opposite direction. Hotch started the engine, glancing in the rearview mirror at Emily, who had slumped against the window. “Prentiss, don’t even think about throwing up in my car.”

She let out a weak, humourless laugh, her voice raspy. “Relax, Hotch. Morgan will cover the detailing.”

“Yes. He will,” He replied, his tone dry but definitive.

Derek groaned dramatically, leaning his head against the cool glass of the car window. “Oh, come on. I’m already paying for this in emotional damage. And my shoes!” he whined, throwing a glance at Emily, who was slumped miserably in the seat across from him.

Despite the discomfort coursing through her, she managed to lift her head, “ You’ve got emotional damage?!” She asked incredulously, before a faint, mischievous smirk broke through the haze of her pain. “Hotch,” she rasped, her voice hoarse but laced with humour, “you were a prosecutor. Is this enough emotional damage to warrant taking him to court?”

Hotch’s eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, meeting her gaze. His expression remained calm and collected, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. “Absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat, his tone so dry and matter-of-fact that it almost sounded like a genuine legal assessment.

The rest of the team erupted into chuckles, their shared laughter cutting through the tension of the evening. Even Penelope, who had been glaring daggers at Derek for most of the ride, let out a snort of laughter, shaking her head in mock exasperation.

“Man, ya’ll are ruthless,” Derek muttered, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ve said I’m sorry like a hundred times already!”

JJ leaned closer to Emily, gently brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. “You know, Em, if you do take him to court, I’ll testify on your behalf,” she teased, grinning.

“Me too,” Penelope chimed in, her tone overly sweet as she crossed her arms. “And I’ll bring charts and graphs outlining every instance of Morgan’s bad decision-making.”

Derek groaned louder, sinking further into his seat. “Alright, alright! I get it. I’m the bad guy. Can we move on now?”

Emily leaned her head back against the seat, her smirk softening into something more tired but no less triumphant. “Not until you buy me a new beer. And replace the dinner I threw up on your shoes. And more ice cream. And—”

Derek cut her off with a groan. “Okay, I get it! Just add it to the tab.”

As the SUV rolled to a stop in front of Emily’s apartment building, the lively energy inside the vehicle finally began to settle. The faint glow of the streetlights outside cast a soft light on the team, their earlier banter fading into a warm, comfortable quiet. 

Hotch shifted into park and turned off the engine before glancing back over his shoulder at Emily, who was slumped in her seat, her head leaning against the window, her exhaustion and definite nausea very evident. Despite her worn-out appearance, she still carried an air of defiance, her dark eyes peeking up at him.

“Prentiss,” He began, his tone a perfect blend of authoritative and concerned, “give me your car key. I’ll have an agent drive it over in the morning.”

She groaned lightly as she fumbled weakly with her bag, eventually pulling out the key and handing it to him without much protest.

“And,” He added, his voice tinged with dry humour as he pocketed the key, “for the love of God, don’t throw up in the hallway on your way upstairs.”

That earned a faint, raspy chuckle from her. She waved him off with a limp hand, her smirk returning despite her obvious discomfort. “Relax, if I do, Morgan’s on cleanup duty.”

“Absolutely not!” Derek said immediately, his voice cutting through the quiet. He sat up straighter, throwing a scandalised look in her direction.

The protest only made the rest of the team laugh again, the sound filling the car as they shook their heads.

Hotch’s calm gaze swept over the group, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Okay. Let’s get her upstairs before she starts planning her revenge,” he said dryly, stepping out of the car and opening the back door for Emily.

As the cool night air swept in, she groaned softly, bracing herself as she swung her legs out of the car with JJ’s help. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of mischief as she glanced at Morgan. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”