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The BAU was rarely quiet, even when the cases were closed and the jet was fueled for the flight home. Usually, you'd hear Morgan and Reid arguing over some random thing, or Garcia recounting some wild story. But tonight, as they cruised at thirty thousand feet, a strange, cozy silence had settled over the back of the plane.
Hotch was the first to notice. He sat across from Rossi, a file open in his lap, but his eyes weren't moving. He was watching Emily Prentiss.
Emily, who usually spent these flights with her head buried in a briefing or staring stoically out the window, was currently draped across the small sofa-bench. Her focus was entirely, almost unnervingly, fixed on JJ.
JJ was talking, something about Henry's latest soccer practice, and as she spoke, Emily's hand was a restless, tactile presence. She wasn't just sitting near JJ; she was fascinated by her. Emily's thumb traced the line of JJ's jaw, then moved to toy with a stray blonde lock of hair, her touch light but constant.
"Did you see that?" Morgan whispered, leaning toward Reid.
"The synchronization?" Reid whispered back, not even looking up from his book. "It's been happening for the last forty-five minutes. Emily's pupils are dilated by roughly twenty percent, which, combined with the consistent physical mirroring, suggests a significant oxytocin spike."
"It suggests they're in love, Pretty Boy." Morgan chuckled.
It wasn't just the fact that they were together, (the team had suspected the "recent" development for a few weeks), it was the version of Emily Prentiss they were seeing. The guarded, badass agent who kept her emotions in a steel box had seemingly melted.
JJ laughed at something Emily whispered, and Emily's entire face transformed. The sharp, analytical edge she wore like armor was gone, replaced by a soft, goofy grin that looked entirely foreign on her face. When JJ reached up to adjust Emily's collar, Emily didn't just allow the contact, she leaned into it like a cat seeking warmth, her eyes closing for a brief, blissful second.
"She's gone!" Garcia mouthed from her seat, clutching her tablet to her chest. "Our dark, mysterious warrior princess is a puddle."
Rossi clinked his glass of scotch against the table to get Hotch's attention. "Ten dollars says she forgets her go-bag on the plane because she's too busy looking at Jennifer."
Hotch didn't take the bet. He just watched as JJ leaned over to whisper something in Emily's ear. In response, Emily didn't pull away or crack a joke. She reached out, sliding her hand firmly onto the nape of JJ's neck, pulling her just a fraction closer. The rest of the world, the jet, the team, the grueling week they'd just endured, didn't exist.
"Hey, Prentiss" Morgan called out, trying to break the spell. "You want in on this poker game, or are you too busy studying JJ's hair?"
Emily didn't even look embarrassed. She didn't jump or pull her hand away. She just turned her head slightly, her fingers still tangled in JJ's hair, and gave a lazy, contented shrug. "I'm good, Morgan. I like my view right here."
JJ blushed, a soft pink creeping up her neck, but she didn't move away either. She just rested her hand on Emily's knee, a silent, grounding counterweight.
The team shared a collective, silent realization. They had spent years profiling the world's most dangerous mind, but they had completely missed the most obvious transformation right in front of them. Emily Prentiss wasn't just in a relationship; she had finally found the one person who made her want to put her guard down for good.
As the jet began its descent, Emily finally stood up, but she didn't let go. She caught JJ's hand, lacing their fingers together with a firm, protective grip. She leaned in, pressing a lingering, tender kiss to JJ's temple right in front of everyone, ignoring the stifled "awww" from Garcia.
For a woman who spent her life undercover, Emily Prentiss had never been easier to read. She was hopelessly, visibly, and quite happily, gone.