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geekystudmuffinTitle: Things You Never Want to Hear After a One-Night Stand in Vegas
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
innerslytherin and severity_softly
Pairing: Rossi/Prentiss
Rating: NC-17
WC: ~11,000
Summary: Emily Prentiss has a problem. Since Dave helped create that problem, she decides he needs to share in the consequences.
Notes: This fic is part of the What Happens In Vegas Universe. While it can be read as a stand-alone fic, it takes place after the first two in the universe, and we feel that reading Why You Should Never Drink Too Much in Vegas and Inappropriate (But Unavoidable) will add to your enjoyment of this fic.
"I'm late."
There were a lot of things Dave Rossi had never expected to hear Emily Prentiss say. At the top of the list were two words that, thank God, she hadn't said yet. Right after those words were two more, and she'd just said them. He stared blankly at her until she repeated them.
"I'm late. Like, late." Her fingers were twisted together and her dark eyes were very wide. And Dave felt like he might be having a heart attack.
"God." He stumbled backwards and sat down, suddenly glad they were having this conversation at his house, because he had a nice full liquor cabinet...that she shouldn't touch. God, it wouldn't be fair for him to get drunk if she couldn't, would it? "Em..."
"A week late," she elaborated, and his chest squeezed again. Oh fuck.
Of course, that's what had got them into this in the first place.
***
Emily thought they'd settled in nicely after the case in Vegas, and having to function without JJ while breaking in Agent Todd had made the team more interdependent rather than less. She could still see the respect in Dave's eyes when he looked at her, and she wasn't treating him any differently, aside from an occasional tiny smile and flicker of a glance when they passed each other in the kitchenette or he sat by her on the jet.
They still worked well together, like they always had, and if Emily occasionally felt a pang of wistfulness, she pushed it aside, because they were both dedicated to their job, and trying to make more of this would only jeopardize that.
Of course, everything had changed when she missed her period. She'd always been astoundingly regular, especially given that she was taking birth control. She would have been even more worried when her monthly visitor failed to come if she'd been regular about taking it over the past month too, except that they had found themselves in the middle of nowhere two weeks ago, and she'd missed a few days.
She tried to tell herself she'd just screwed up by not keeping a fresh pack with her, but she automatically started feeling awkward around Dave. She knew it wasn't really fair to avoid him, but she knew he'd know what was wrong if she didn't, and it was better for him to wonder why she was acting weird than figure out why himself before she even knew if there was something to be worried about.
Still, after four days and no period, she was starting to freak out, and no amount of reassuring herself it was just her hormones out of whack could stop it. When they got home from that case, she drove straight to JJ's house.
JJ answered with little Henry in her arms, and Emily spared him a affectionate glance, suppressing the fleeting idea that it wouldn't be so bad if she was pregnant by reminding herself that David Rossi would be the father if she was.
Oh my God.
"I'm late," she blurted, her gaze snapping back up to JJ and the smile slipping off her face.
"For what?" JJ said, smiling and standing aside so Emily could come in. Then her eyes widened. "Oh my God, you mean--late?"
"Yes, I mean late!" Emily ran a hand through her hair and walked into the living room, then turned around and walked back towards JJ. "Oh, God, I'm late."
JJ shut the door and put Henry in Emily's arms, leaving her basically no choice about whether to hold him or not. "Kitchen," she said, and went that way. Emily stared down at Henry, taking in his button nose and the little cap tucked on his head, and cursed her body. Then she cursed David Rossi. Then she followed JJ.
"God, he's so beautiful," she found herself saying, and sat at the table miserably.
JJ smiled at her, though it looked unsure. "So..." she started. "Who, Em? What happened?"
Emily sucked in a breath and then glared at JJ. "You cannot tell Hotch. Any of this."
"Em!" JJ looked offended. "You're my best friend. Just because Hotch and I are...whatever... I don't tell him your secrets."
Emily sighed. "I hate Vegas."
Emily was looking down at Henry, but she could almost feel JJ's eyebrows lifting, and when JJ spoke, her tone matched the expression Emily was imagining must be on her face.
"Vegas?"
"Heh, yeah," Emily said.
"So, you don't know who the--?"
"Oh, I know," Emily said, and looked back up at JJ, who hadn't seemed to put it all together yet, in spite of Emily having told JJ that Dave had held her hair while she threw up that night.
"You slept with Morg--?" And then the pieces slid into place. "Oh my God... Rossi?"
Emily whimpered in agreement.
JJ stared at her, and then couldn't seem to help blurting, "Was he as good as all the rumors imply?"
Emily glared at her, her mouth dropping open, and JJ seemed to shake herself mentally and held up her hands.
"Sorry. Sorry." She settled in the seat next to Emily. There was a short pause, then, "But was he?"
"God, yes," Emily groaned, and had the desire to drop her head against the table, but found it an impossibility with an infant in her arms, so she just groaned and made a miserable face.
"You slept with David Rossi."
"Can we focus on what's important here?" Emily demanded. "I am a week late after sleeping with David Rossi!"
"But Em, you used a condom, right?" JJ paused, watching her. "Right? Oh, God, Em..."
"I was... really in no condition. He should have... Ugh, what am I going to do, JJ?" Henry made a little noise, and Emily looked down at him automatically. Thank God he was too tiny to understand or remember any of this.
JJ leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "Wait, Dave didn't use a condom? How were you okay with that? Emily--"
"It wasn't like that," Emily said, forced to be fair even if she didn't want to be. "I was drunk, he'd been drinking...we both talked about the condom. We just...forgot." Distraught as she was, Emily really didn't want JJ storming off to yell at Dave. Especially since she probably shouldn't have told JJ about this at all.
JJ still didn't look very happy, but she sat back. "You just forgot," she repeated flatly.
"Jayj, I don't need a lecture. Let's just say if you were sleeping with David Rossi and you happened to be drunk out of your head, the last thing you'd think about was stopping."
JJ raised an eyebrow. "He's that good."
Emily wiped a hand over her face, then flashed a grin at her friend. "Pushed-up-against-the-wall good," she admitted. Her grin faded. "But that's not really great consolation at the moment. He flat out told me he's not a fatherly kind of guy, and even though I do want to have kids... God, this is like the worst way possible."
"Tell me about it," JJ said.
"Hey, no, I didn't mean it like that. I mean..." Emily sighed. "God, what am I going to do?"
"Have you told him?" JJ asked.
"If I'd told him, do you think I'd be here asking you what to do?" Emily sighed.
"Have you taken a test?"
"No," Emily whined.
"I think those are two good steps to take."
Emily gave her a flat look. "Stop being logical. I need a plan, JJ. I need to figure out what to do however he reacts." She paused for a long moment, then bit her lip and looked back down at Henry. "I couldn't give it up; you know that."
JJ sighed. "I know," she said, her voice softening. "For all my staunchly feminist, pro-choice beliefs, I couldn't do it, either. Not after Keri Derzmond..." She sighed. "Okay, Dave can be a real asshole, but he's a good man. And you guys are friends, right? I mean, you two always work well together on cases. I've seen you paired up a lot over the past several months."
Emily brushed a fingertip down Henry's nose, but didn't answer.
"Emily...is there more you're not telling me?"
Emily shook her head. "No," she said quietly. It didn't matter that sometimes her stomach gave a little, pleasant flip when she caught Dave looking at her, or that she would most definitely take him to bed again if it wouldn't complicate things more. She didn't want 'friends with benefits', she wanted something real, and if she slept with him again, it would just confuse the issue more and more every time they did it.
JJ nodded slowly. "Okay." After a moment she got up and went to the fridge, then came back with two decaf sodas. "You have to decide, Em. Take a test, or talk to him." She looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn't.
Emily ignored it, not wanting to bring up a whole new can of worms. After a moment, she huffed a laugh. "Part of me wants to buy a test, go to his house, and make him suffer through waiting for the results with me."
JJ raised her eyebrows and laughed. "Well, he was part of the fun, so he might as well be part of the suffering, too." She reached out and touched Emily's shoulder. "But don't make yourself suffer any longer than you have to. Call him now. Before you leave, so I can hear. And then go to the drugstore, and buy two. Just in case. And then go straight to his house, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars."
Emily gave her an unhappy laugh. "What should I say to him? He's going to think I want sex just coming over out of the blue."
"Who cares what he thinks? Tell him you need to talk, that it won't wait, and you don't care if he's busy, he'll damn well make time for you." JJ's eyes flashed again. "He's the one who forgot the condom, and frankly, if he thinks you're coming over for a booty call, that'll make the shock all that much worse."
"God, what did David Rossi ever do to you?" Emily asked, staring at JJ.
"I think every man should, at least once in his life, have to deal with a pregnancy scare the same way we do," JJ retorted. "And David Rossi has earned about half a dozen, if even a quarter of the rumors are true."
Emily stared at her for a long moment. It was true, she supposed, even if she wasn't really sure she wanted to be with Dave when she found out. Regardless of the results. Still, she found herself laughing softly at the absurdity of it, and the absolute truth in JJ's words. "Fine," she said, halfway between amusement and misery, and carefully shifted Henry in her arms so she could get her cell phone out of her pocket.
Henry made an unhappy noise at the shift, and Emily spent a moment cooing at him until he settled, her chest aching as she did, and then flipped her phone open to call Dave.
It only rang once before he answered. "Rossi." It was almost a bark, and it sent another funny pang through her chest.
"Dave," she said, pleased that she didn't sound as strangled as she felt. "It's Emily."
There was a pause. "Emily. Hi. What's up?" His voice sounded odd. Surprised, maybe, but not unhappy. It was a nice feeling that maybe he wanted to hear from her. Then she realized she shouldn't be thinking that.
"Ah," she started, then sighed. "I need to talk to you. Are you at home right now?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Not on the phone," she said, and glanced at JJ. JJ looked stern, so Emily steeled herself. "I'm coming over."
There was silence. Then, "Are you sure--"
"Now."
There was a long pause, and then a somewhat strange sounding, "Okay." Another pause. "I'll be waiting."
Emily nodded, pleased that at least he didn't seem to be reading all the wrong things into this. "Okay. See you." She flipped her phone shut and gave JJ an anxious look.
"Good." JJ held out a piece of paper. "This is the kind I used. It wouldn't hurt to get another kind, too. They're easy to screw up."
"I don't want to do this," Emily blurted. She hoped her hands wouldn't shake. God, what if Dave yelled? He wouldn't yell, would he? She wanted to think she would yell back at him, but she was afraid she would just cry.
"You have to." JJ lifted Henry gently from her arms. "Go." She kissed Emily's forehead. "It'll be okay."
Emily drew a steadying breath and followed JJ to the door, where she ducked to give little Henry a kiss goodbye. "Bye," she said quietly.
"Breathe," JJ called after her, and Emily just waved in acknowledgment.
Thirty minutes later, she was knocking on Dave's door with two pregnancy tests in her purse. He opened the door and smiled at her. "Hi. Everything okay?"
She just stared at him, trying to smile, and then stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. "Sort of," she said finally, then reached out to nudge his chest with her knuckles. "Maybe you should sit down."
He closed his hands over hers, and gave her a look that said that whatever it was, he could handle it, and it surely couldn't be as bad as it seemed.
She pulled her hand gently out of his. "I'm late."
His expression abruptly changed. She twisted her fingers together and stared at him. "I'm late. Like, late."
"God." He stumbled backwards and sat down, and Emily's stomach jumped. "Em..." He looked shell-shocked.
"A week late," she added, because she didn't know what else to say.
Dave shook his head. "You...Oh. God. Have you, ah...taken a test?"
She drew a deep breath. "No. That's why I'm here, actually. I... you... I'm taking it here."
"You what?" He kept staring at her. "Why?"
"Because I don't want to do this alone!" she snapped, and Dave nodded.
"Okay." He stood up, looking like he was completely at a loss. "Okay." After a moment he stepped closer and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Okay."
She nodded at him. "Okay," she echoed. Part of her wished he wouldn't touch her. She didn't know if it was because that was what started this whole thing, or because she wanted to slump against him and let him hold her.
Don't be stupid, she told herself. "I'll just... ah..." She drew a breath and pulled away, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom.
"Okay." She heard Dave's recliner squeak and figured he'd dropped down in it again. "You don't want company for that part, right?" he called after her.
"Don't make me throw something at you," she called back. She hadn't been expecting him to laugh, but she was still sort of disappointed that he didn't.
Of course, once she got in there, she couldn't pee. She sat on the toilet, reading the instructions over again and telling herself to relax. She should have drunk a bottle of water on her way over. She buried her face in her hands, then reached over and turned on the tap. After about five minutes, she heard footsteps outside the door.
"Did you fall in?" Dave actually sounded more nervous than amused, she thought.
"Shut up," she snapped.
"I thought you, uh. Were punishing me by making me wait with you?"
"Punishing? God, Dave, will you go away?"
She heard him sigh, but his footsteps retreated, back the way he'd come.
A couple of minutes later she finished and washed her hands, then stepped out of the bathroom, wondering where he was now.
"How long does it take?"
He was sitting in his recliner again, elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. He looked like he needed a drink, and if it weren't for the fact that she didn't know if she could join him, she might have taken pity on him.
"A few minutes." She shrugged, and went to sit on the couch--in the middle of the couch where she wasn't right next to him, but also wasn't obviously avoiding sitting by him.
Dave nodded and stared at the floor. "My God," he said after a moment. She glanced at him, but he still wasn't looking at her. "How, uh. How are you?" He finally looked up then. "I mean."
It was almost--almost--worth this, to see Dave Rossi virtually speechless. Almost.
Except that it also made it ten times worse to see the proof, plain as day, on Dave's face that having a kid was the last thing he wanted. God, what was she going to do if she was pregnant? It would have been different if it were some anonymous "sperm donor". She could have handled raising a baby on her own in that situation. But if it was Dave, someone she liked, was attracted to, and respected... she wasn't sure how she could deal with having a child with a man like that when she knew he didn't want it.
"Great. Brilliant. Fantastic," she said, her tone flat, and didn't look at him.
One thing you couldn't say about David Rossi was that he was stupid. She wasn't looking at him, but she heard him get up, and a moment later, he joined her on the couch, his arm sliding around her shoulders.
"Hey, this is... this is okay," he said, and even though his voice didn't sound anything like normal, she could tell he was trying. "We'll...we'll figure things out. What do you want to do? You know I'm not going to leave you on your own."
Emily just shook her head. Part of her wanted to tell him to shut up, that she'd rather be alone than drag him into something he didn't want. The other part of her couldn't bear to form the words. "Stop saying things you're not sure you want to say," she said finally.
"Hey, you don't know what I want," Dave said, tightening his arm around her. "Because I don't know what the hell I want. But I know what I don't want, which is to be an asshole to a woman I care about. God, how long does that damn test take?"
Emily wasn't sure if the churning in her stomach was from the waiting or from his reaction...or maybe from the little hesitation she'd heard before Dave said he 'cared about' her. She sort of wanted to hit him.
"A few minutes," she said testily. "And I don't want you to raise a kid with me just to keep from being an asshole. Not the right reason. I don't want to be... I'm not a consolation prize--'sorry, you didn't get what you really want, but...'--and when I have a kid, it won't be either."
She sighed and stood, walking back down the hallway without waiting for him to reply.
"What the hell?" he demanded, following her. "First of all, no man in his right mind would view you as a consolation prize, Emily Prentiss! Second of all...what the hell? How would a kid be a consolation prize?"
She sighed again, frustrated suddenly, and turned back around to face him. "Okay, maybe that was a bad analogy. I don't want to just be what you got stuck with. I want to... I want to be someone's grand prize, me and my child, not just... what you got stuck with because I got pregnant and it was the honorable thing to do." She realized suddenly that she was getting emotional, and cursed herself, then straightened up and set her jaw. "It's probably done now."
Dave was looking at her with an expression she couldn't interpret. She wasn't sure she even wanted to. After a moment he shook his head. "I have a feeling I'd be the one who was a consolation prize," he said, and turned away. "Okay, so--what now?"
She stared at him for a moment, and had the impulse to correct him, to tell him that she wanted him, but she quickly stifled it. It didn't matter. They wanted totally different things. "Now I just go read them."
"Okay." She saw his shoulders move as he took a deep breath, then he turned back around. "Okay, so we read them."
She opened her mouth, wanting to tell him she'd do it alone, but then shut it, her stomach turning again. She headed into the bathroom, feeling suddenly ill, and picked up the tests... and just stared at them for a moment, unable to believe the overwhelming wave of disappointment at what they said.
"That's a minus. That's just one line," she explained, and willed herself not to be ridiculous. This was the result she wanted. "Both negative." She swallowed and shrugged. "Thank God," she said, and tossed them in the trash.
Dave hadn't bothered looking at the tests. He'd been watching her face. After a moment Emily looked up and forced a smile. "Thank God," she said again.
His brows drew together. "Yeah," he echoed. It was almost funny, now that she'd said negative, he sounded uncertain. And he was still watching her, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to get out from under his gaze.
Note to self: Never sleep with a profiler again.
She sucked in another breath, and shoved the intense longing that had reared its ugly head down hard, then widened her smile. Then she forced a little laugh. "I'm sorry," she said, and touched his arm. "I... I should let you get back to whatever you were doing," she said, and pushed past him out of the bathroom.
"Emily," he said, and his hand settled on her shoulder, stopping her. "Em. I wasn't doing anything. Why don't you stick around? You seem like a woman who appreciates a good bourbon." He made a noise that might have been a laugh. "And you're allowed now."
She shook her head. "No, I really shouldn't stay. I just..." An excuse didn't come fast enough. "Look at what happened last time we drank together."
She felt him step closer behind her, and his other hand came up to rub her shoulder. "I enjoyed that," he said softly. "I think about that night." His voice was low. "I think about you, Emily."
Her eyes were suddenly stinging, and she clamped them shut, thankful he wasn't looking at her face anymore. God, it only hurt worse that he thought about her, when she knew this... whatever it was between them, would never work. "Don't," she managed.
He sighed. "I know I'm not what you want, Em," he murmured. "Not long-term." His hand brushed her hair. "But believe me when I say I wish I could be. You're an amazing woman."
"Dave," she said, and this time her voice cracked. "I said don't." She dropped her head and tried to steady herself. "God, we should have never... I should go."
"I'd rather you didn't," Dave said. His voice was hoarse. She wished she could read him as well as he could obviously read her. "I have coffee. And...we are friends, aren't we, Emily? Will you talk to me?"
She sighed and finally turned to face him. "Yeah, we're friends." The second question was harder to answer, though, so she shook her head and looked away. "I don't know if I can talk to you about this. I don't know what there is to say, really." It wasn't as if talking about things was going to change the fact that they fundamentally wanted different things in a relationship. Hell, she didn't even know if he wanted a relationship at all.
He looked discouraged, though, and she wasn't sure if she'd seen him look like this since...well, Indianapolis, really. She didn't like thinking she was the reason he looked this way.
Dave nodded. "Will you listen to me if I want to talk?"
She noticed then that he was wearing the dark blue sweater Garcia had made him for Christmas. Garcia had knitted something for all of them. Emily had a scarf and tam set in dark green. Something about seeing Dave wearing his present from Garcia made her wonder how many people he had that really cared about him any more. He was famous, but he'd said more than once that he'd burned a lot of bridges behind him.
She nodded slowly. "Sure." She really hoped that wasn't a bad idea. She'd managed to pull herself together for now, but she had a feeling what he was going to talk about had something to do with what had just happened. "I think I'd really rather have the bourbon than the coffee though."
Dave shrugged. "I have some Bushmills. We could have Irish coffee." He tilted his head for her to follow him down the hallway and she realized he was heading for the kitchen. "Or you could go with the Woodford Reserve. Your call."
She frowned at his back. "I really don't care. Whatever you want."
"I'm trying to be polite here. Not put my foot in my mouth by ordering for the lady."
Emily stopped in the doorway and pressed her palm to her forehead. "I really don't care. Irish Coffee, I guess. If you have whipped cream. If not, Woodford Reserve." She dragged her hand down her face, and looked at him again, wishing her chest would stop aching.
Dave gave her a subdued smile and nodded, then pulled out a chair at the table for her. She'd liked the kitchen since she fed his cat for him last month. It was big and warm, with red tile and a rough-hewn wood table in front of the fireplace hearth that it shared with the den. He didn't wait to see if she was going to sit down, though. As soon as he'd pulled out the chair in invitation, he pulled out footed glasses and set about making them drinks.
She settled in a chair and watched him move around the kitchen, propping her head in her hand. She didn't really know what to say, outside of the ridiculous urge to apologize for coming over at all, so she eventually let her eyes drop to the table, tracing the wood grain and waiting for him to join her and say what he had to say.
"This is...odd," Dave said finally, setting a drink in front of her. He sat across from her and looked at her for a moment, then stretched out his hand to cover hers. She tensed and he pulled back, then sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "I'm...not as relieved as I thought I'd be."
She huffed a laugh. "It's because I'm sitting here moping against my better judgment. Once I'm gone, you'll regain the ability to think about it without..." She trailed off, and made a vague hand gesture. "Guilt? Pity?" She shrugged and took a sip of her drink.
Dave frowned faintly. "Knowing that I'm not the kind of man you want doesn't make me stop wishing I could be." He snorted and looked down at his glass. "A woman like you doesn't come along very often."
"Know what sucks the most, Dave? It's that you're not the kind of man I don't want." She shook her head and sat back in her seat. "But that doesn't make us work."
"You want a man who wants to be a father," Dave said point blank. "Frankly, the very idea of raising another human is terrifying to me. Aside from that, I like the way we work just fine." He sighed and looked down at the table. "It wouldn't have been a consolation prize. It would've been me trying to give you what you deserve. Because I wish I wanted the same things you do. I wish..." He shook his head.
Emily gave him another, more miserable laugh. "I wish you did too, and then when I think about it... I can't even begin to imagine you as a father." She didn't want to change him, either. She shook her head, and then slumped in her seat and rested her head against the cool wood of the table. Oh, staying had been a bad idea.
"I'd probably be pretty shitty at it," Dave said. His fingers stroked through her hair. "My dad is a great guy. And I love my nieces and nephews. I've got no reason to not want kids. With Rita--my first wife--it just never happened, even though we both sort of expected it to. But the marriage started falling apart, we stopped trying... My second and third wives, I made sure they didn't want any." He sighed. "You know that's why I haven't pursued anything, right? Why I thought it was best if I just...left Vegas in Vegas."
"It doesn't really matter. It would be stupid to try to pursue anything anyway." She sighed and shifted her drink away so she could bring her arms up and pillow her head against them. She didn't move away from his hand, though. "I should just give up."
"No, you shouldn't," Dave said softly. "Someday someone who is perfect for you will ask you to have his children." He paused and cleared his throat. "And the authorities will never find his body, because I'm a damn good profiler."
That surprised a breathy laugh from her, and somehow those words felt really good and painful at the same time. She rolled her head to look up at him, smiling faintly. "You're an asshole, and this is the most fucked up relationship I've even been in."
He gave her a lopsided sort-of-smile and brushed her bangs out of her face. "I've never pretended to be anything but an asshole." His gaze was warm, warmer than it should be. Sometimes she really wanted to shoot him.
She drew a deep breath and sat back in her seat, ignoring the hint of regret that she pulled out of his touch. She tilted her head at him. "I should really probably go. It's getting late."
"You don't have to go." Dave's voice was quiet, his gaze steady on hers.
Emily watched him for a moment, torn. Then she shook her head. "We can't keep complicating this."
Dave didn't say anything. He held her gaze for another moment, then nodded and sipped his drink.
The non-reaction was worse than any verbal one could have been, and Emily felt her lips pull into a thin line. She looked away. "This is exactly why I should have left sooner." She let out a gusty breath and pushed away from the table. God, maybe she should give up. 'Mr. Right' wasn't coming along, and she was making herself miserable wanting Dave and not letting herself be with him.
At the same time, if things moved farther with Dave, there would always be a 'what if' in the back of her head. Maybe even his. She was doing the right thing.
"Emily," he said quietly. She waited, but he didn't say anything but her name. He looked very unhappy, and it was killing her that she was responsible for that. But they'd been doing fine before tonight. Before she'd come running to him to make him take the pregnancy test with her. She could understand why JJ had wanted her to do it, but now she just wished she'd taken it in JJ's bathroom and had ice cream and snuggled Henry afterwards.
She drew a long breath and let it out. "What?" she said quietly.
He looked up at her, but his expression was troubled. Finally he shook his head. "I'd rather you stayed," he said quietly.
She sighed. "Dave, what good could that possibly do?" she demanded, though her voice was still gentle.
He shrugged. "None. Doesn't stop me from wanting you. But your walking out won't stop that, either."
"It'll make it worse. My staying, that is."
Dave just shook his head.
"Yes, it will," Emily said. "If I stay, you'll want me more, and I'll want you more, and I already want you far too much for my own good, Dave." She glared at the wall for a moment. "It'll end badly," she finished miserably, and turned toward the entryway. This would be easier to just get it over with; rip it off like a Band-Aid.
She heard Dave huff, but she didn't turn. She was resolved. She had self-control. She took several steps towards the front door and told herself she wasn't disappointed that he hadn't stopped her. She'd admitted she still wanted him. As if she'd had to admit that; they both knew. He could have at least tried to make her change her mind. Even if she wouldn't. Because she was doing the right thing.
She heard his chair scrape back and quickened her steps. She should leave now. But then she heard him following her down the hall and knew he wasn't going to let her leave without trying to get in the last word. He caught up with her in the living room, where she'd left her purse. She didn't want to look up, but he strode to the middle of the room and stopped, and she couldn't resist.
He had his arms folded and he was glaring at her. The unhappiness had been replaced with anger, and that was sexier than it ought to be.
"What good does it do for us both to spend the night alone and miserable when you know damn well I want to make love to you?" he demanded. "So what if it ends badly? Not like this is a good ending, you just walking out of here and that's that. We're both still fucking miserable."
She wasn't sure when her mouth fell open, but it had, and she stared at him for a long moment, trying to ignore the jolt of want and warmth that shot through her that he wanted to 'make love' to her. "The more we invest, the more it will hurt when it ends," she managed, because 'I'm afraid I'll fall in love with you' was far too scary to actually say.
"It already hurts," he said abruptly, and crossed the distance between them to kiss her hard.
She made a surprised noise, curling her fingers into the front of his shirt. His arms were around her waist, and she resisted at first, but then kissed him back. God, that was a bad idea, and that thought ran through her like a shock. She pushed back just enough to speak without actually pushing him away. "It'll hurt worse," she protested weakly.
"I know." Dave kissed her again, more tenderly. "It's worth it."
She made a noise that was half miserable and half wanting into the kiss, then pulled back again. "How?"
He sighed and pressed his cheek against her hair. "Because it's you."
"That's not a very good answer," she said.
"It's my only answer for a lot of things lately," he muttered, and kissed her again. "Come to bed with me, Emily." His lips brushed her cheek. "Stay with me tonight." His arms tightened around her. "Let me make love to you."
She dropped her head to his shoulder, her chest aching more, and enjoyed the way he kissed the top of her head and stroked his hands over her back even when she shouldn't. "It's not... that simple, Dave. I can't separate sex and emotion like that." At least she couldn't with someone she knew, and liked, and respected. She couldn't with Dave.
But then Dave said something that surprised her: he mirrored her thoughts.
"I can't either," she said, his voice strained. "Not with you."
She lifted her head and stared at him; he looked like he must have felt like he'd given too much away, and she tightened her arms on him and kissed him to drown out the sudden swell of frightening emotions that tried to fill her chest.
One of his hands slid into her hair and he met her kiss with the same need that she had. She knew she shouldn't give in, but it felt so good to relax into his embrace, to let his kisses and touches show her how much he'd been wanting this. It didn't resolve the main obstacle, and she knew that would have to be dealt with...but God, she just wanted to forget about it tonight and lose herself in Dave.
"Emily," Dave breathed, and kissed her again.
Emily hummed into the kiss, slipping her hand up the back of his sweater, then deepened it, her entire body responding to the way it felt to touch him, like her body was made to be with his.
God. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself, but pressed against him more anyway. "Okay. I'll stay. This is incredibly stupid," she said, all in one breath.
"I know," he murmured, immediately beginning to guide her back towards the bedroom. "And it's going to end badly. And God, you're beautiful. Sexy." He interspersed his words with kisses. "Enthralling."
She huffed a little laugh, but just tugged the shirt under his sweater up to run her hands along his skin.
One of Dave's hands slid between them to unbutton her shirt. "It's been driving me crazy how I can't stop thinking about you," he whispered. "This wasn't supposed to happen." He kissed her again. "But considering I couldn't stop thinking about you before Vegas...I suppose it makes sense."
"Before Vegas?" she asked, smiling faintly and letting him pull her into the bedroom, where he flipped on the lights. It shouldn't have gotten her attention so much, except that last time, not only had she been in a haze of alcohol, but the room had been almost dark. This time was going to seem ten times more real, sharper, crisper. She had to fight the impulse to run again.
He must have noticed her tense slightly, because he slid his arms around her waist, the touch of his hands on bare skin making her shiver, and held her close for a moment, nuzzling her hair.
"Why did you think I set up that wager?" he murmured in her ear, and Emily felt her skin go hot. "Thought one night with you would get you out of my system. Should have known better." He kissed a spot below her ear, then continued the trail of kisses down her neck. "You're the sort of woman that gets under a man's skin, Emily." His fingers spread over her back, heating her body more with their touch.
"Mmm," she hummed. "You're the first one with that complaint," she murmured, then pulled back so she could kiss him fully, pushing at his sweater and shirt to get them off over his head. The kiss broke for a moment as she tossed them aside, and then her hands were roaming over his chest. "God, you're sexy." She looked up and met his eyes. "I've always thought that."
He chuckled, but his gaze was hungry on hers. He finished unbuttoning her shirt and slid it off her shoulders, then cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed tenderly along her cheekbones. "I'm glad you think so," he murmured, and kissed her softly.
She made a pleased and needy noise, then slid her hands down to cup his ass. After a moment, she slid her hands inside the back of his pants and he sucked in a breath.
"Fingers are cold," he complained.
"Deal," she told him, smiling, and ducked her head to lick at his throat.
"Mnnh." He traced his fingers down her neck to her shoulders, then followed her bra straps down. Instead of unhooking it as she expected, he lowered his arms and traced around to the front, his fingertips teasing over the swell of her breasts. He was watching her intently, and she felt another wash of heat.
"God, Dave," she whispered, a little shiver running through her. She leaned in and kissed him again, her lips and tongue soft against his.
"I love touching you," he murmured against her lips. "Love being this close to you. You are so amazing." He smiled and kissed her again, then leaned down to kiss her skin just above the top of her bra. His hands slid down to rest at her waist.
She closed her eyes and drew a breath, taking in the hot touch of his lips and tongue, the scratch of his goatee. Her fingers slid into his hair as he kissed across to the top of her other breast. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched her like this, with almost reverence. "Dave," she murmured, and brushed her lips to Dave's hair, sliding her hands over his back.
He looked up at her for a long moment, his gaze warm, and then knelt in front of her. He kissed his way down to her stomach, then pressed his face lightly against her skin. She could feel his breath raising goosebumps and heard him inhale slowly. God, this had been such a bad idea. He was making her feel too many things. She ran her fingers through his hair. "Dave," she whispered again.
"Beautiful," he said, his tone implying that was just as good as her name. It made her laugh for some reason, and he lifted his head, smiling crookedly at her. After a moment, though, the smile faded and he stood. He looked seriously into her eyes, framing her face in his hands. "Emily, you know how much I like and respect you, right?"
She watched him for a moment, almost afraid to say yes, almost afraid that if she said yes, he was going to say something else that would make the swirl of emotion she was feeling even more confusing. Instead of speaking, she nodded slowly. "It's mutual," she managed to breath after a moment, and lifted a hand to brush his cheek with her fingers.
Dave nodded and opened his mouth, then shook his head and kissed her instead. "I wanted to make sure we were clear on that," he murmured. He kissed her again, guiding her gently back towards the bed. "I should also be clear that you are possibly the sexiest woman I've ever met. Particularly wearing only your jeans and a bra."
She hummed a little laugh. "Oh, I don't know. I'm sure you had your pickings," she teased gently, but let him guide her back until her legs were hitting the bed. Then she just wrapped her arms around him and kissed him again, making little shapes into his scalp. She felt him shiver and smiled against his lips, and then slid one hand down to start working on the button of his jeans.
"And who did I pick?" he pointed out breathlessly. His hands slid up her back as he kissed her again, his tongue flicking teasingly against hers.
"Plenty before me," she said, smiling also sounding breathless after the way that kiss made her stomach twist pleasantly with want. "God, Dave, it doesn't matter," she murmured, and kissed him harder.
"Mmm." He pulled away just long enough to murmur, "I want you in my bed," and then kissed her again, finally unhooking her bra and sliding his hand under her arm to tease at the side of her breast. It made her shiver, and she bit her lip.
"God," she breathed, and finished with his jeans, then gave them a push. He didn't move to help her right away. He slid his thumbs farther under the bra where it was now slack, brushing her nipples. Her fingers tightened against his hips in response to the jolt of desire that sent through her, and she whimpered, and then started to pull open her own jeans.
The corner of his mouth quirked up and he kissed her softly, almost chastely, on the mouth...and then nibbled his way down her neck to suck lightly at the skin where it met her shoulder. One hand still teased at her nipple while the other slid down to curl at her waist. It slid down into her pants, over her underwear, and over her thigh once she'd worked open her jeans, and she remember suddenly how he'd teased her in Vegas.
He didn't seem in any more of a hurry to fully undress her now, either, and it was slowly causing her body to beg for more. "God, Dave," she panted, then slid her hand into the front of his pants and ran her hand up his cock through his boxers. Two could play at that game.
He let out a shuddery breath and turned his head, biting harder, just enough for her to notice. Then he guided her gently down onto the bed, not letting her get out of her jeans before she was on her back. He flickered a smoldering glance up at her, then licked his way down her chest and pulled her bra down with his teeth.
She couldn't help but laugh, though it was affectionate, and she threaded her fingers into his hair when he came back up towards her. He mouthed softly over the rise of one breast, avoiding her nipple, and she moaned and tightened her grip on his graying locks, feeling her nipples go taut without being touched.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured, brushing his lips against hers. He was breathing hard. It was such a good feeling to know she could affect him like this just by letting him touch her. Her eyes fluttered shut and then opened again, because she couldn't not watch him. One hand was curled possessively against her ribs. As he sucked teasingly at her earlobe he lowered his weight gently against her, making her gasp and arch under him.
She shifted and pressed up against him, where she could feel his desire for her evident under his jeans. It pushed a little noise of desire from her and she slid her hand back down to touch him, to curl her fingers around his cock. She stroked lightly and he groaned, his breath hot against her neck, and then she moved her hand to push at the top of his boxers again.
She wanted the clothing between them off, to feel his skin against hers, bare legs against bare legs. "Dave," she whispered, but her tone was insisting when she pushed again.
He groaned again and shifted, panting, to tug at her jeans. She lifted her hips, meeting his eyes and liking the hunger in them. He pulled her jeans off but left her panties. Once she'd pushed his pants off, he traced a finger along the top of her panties, then slid them down more slowly than he had her jeans.
"Mmph," she managed, watching him as he bared her completely. God, he was sexy, and he made her feel sexy. He kissed the top of her knee, and then up one thigh. She smiled at him, then reached down. "C'mere," she murmured, and he obeyed and came up to kiss her. She sucked in a sharp breath at the way their bodies felt together, and she slid her hands over his back, squeezing his ass and pulling their hips together.
He groaned in response, and she let out a little whimper, then nudged him to let her roll on top.
"God!" he gasped as he landed on his back, pulling her with him. He ran his palms up her back, burying one hand in her hair and trailing the other around to stroke a breast. He had a tiny smile on his face as he watched her.
She couldn't help but smile back, and she ducked down and started to trail kisses over his jaw, licking and sucking until she reached his earlobe. She sucked it into her mouth, flicking her tongue at it gently. She whimpered, her breath in his ear when he pinched her nipple lightly, and he responded with a groan.
It was amazing, getting that from Dave, and she settled her hips against him so that she was nestled against his cock, and rocked her hips. That got another groan from both of them, his erection rubbing against her just right, as she shifted again and started to lick at his throat, sucking lightly at the jut of Adam's apple there.
Dave was breathing raggedly, making a noise that was almost a whimper. It sent a thrill of satisfaction through her. He gripped her ass, pulling them closer together and lifting his hips slightly against hers.
It pulled a little whimper from her that was almost a cry, and she bit him, just enough to get his attention. "Oh, God!" he gasped and she slid lower, regretting the loss of contact with his cock where it had been settled against her so perfectly. Still she slid her hands down to his hips and licked and kissed across his chest, then teasingly over his stomach.
His breath was coming faster the lower she got, and when she reached his cock, she kissed around it for a moment before licking up the shaft, tasting herself there.
"God, Emily," he panted, his fingers almost clumsy in her hair. She could tell he was watching her, and she liked knowing how much that turned him on.
Her lips curled a little and she ran her tongue along the head, tasting the sticky, warm precome before she covered the head with her lips. She hadn't done this in some time, but then it had been some time since she'd gone to bed with a man she cared enough about to want to please this way. The thought made her chest ache and she closed her eyes and pushed it away, sliding her lips down as far as she could go, and then drawing back, swiping her tongue back and forth against his shaft.
Dave made a quiet noise and she felt his hand stroking up her shoulder to massage her neck and then back down. His hands were never still on her, even as she was giving him pleasure. It proved better than his words how much he liked touching her. "Good," he gasped, "wonderful." Not that she'd ever met a man who would criticize a blow job. To her amusement, he kept babbling praise as she swirled her tongue around him.
Her fingers were curled around the base of his cock, and she kept working over him slowly, taking more enjoyment from the noises and mutterings of the man underneath her than the act itself. It was amazing to be able to reduce David Rossi to this. He swept her hair away from her face, and she glanced up at him to see he was watching her, rapt.
When their eyes met, his mouth dropped open and his eyelids lowered for a moment. Then he exhaled shakily. "Wait," he managed, sliding his other hand down to her cheek. "Stop. Don't want to come yet." She pulled back slowly, teasing as she watched him, and he groaned. "I want you so much, Emily."
"Mmm," she hummed, and slid up his body, brushing her breasts over his torso teasingly until she could kiss him. It was teasing at first, but then she deepened it, her tongue and lips lingering on his as she melted against him again. "Condom," she murmured, aware enough this time that she was not going to forget (or let him forget) again.
"Yeah." His arms had gone around her as soon as she was against him, but at the reminder he fumbled at the bedside table. He kept getting distracted by kissing her, apparently, because he wasn't making any progress at getting the condom. Finally he sighed and pushed her a few inches away. "Hang on," he said, and pushed himself up onto his elbow, coming back a moment later with an unopened box, which he offered to her.
She tried not to look surprised that it hadn't been opened, though she vaguely remembered him saying something about it in Vegas, about carrying a condom out of hope. It was a little hard to believe, given not only rumor, but how sexy he was. Then again, he was in his early fifties now. She suppressed the urge to ask him how long it had been before her, possibly before Vegas. She bit her lip and opened the box, pulling one of the packets out and tossing the box back onto the nightstand, and then looked at him for a moment before leaning down to kiss him slowly.
"Yeah," he murmured, meeting her gaze and sliding his fingers through her hair. "It's been a while. A long while." He kissed her again and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. She tried not to show her pleasure at the way he'd answered her unspoken question. "Emily. Em." He pulled her down for another kiss, his lips asking rather than demanding.
She hummed happily into the kiss, her fingers brushing his cheeks, and then sat back a bit. "You could have any woman you want," she whispered, hoping he'd take it as the compliment it was, and not a desire for more explanation. She shifted back so that she could take him in fully, drawing her fingertips up his cock. It wasn't long, but it was thick and beautiful, and she curled her fingers around it and stroked lightly for a moment before pulling the condom packet open.
He snorted, but he was grinning faintly at her. "You're the woman I want," he replied, sounding breathless as he watched her. His hands stroked up her thighs, tracing over her skin. "God, you're beautiful."
"Mmm," she hummed in acknowledgment. If only it were that simple, she thought, and then pushed the little pang of disappointment down. She pinched the tip and rolled the condom down over him slowly, then slid back up to kiss him again.
His fingers slid through her hair, holding her there as he drew out the kiss. Oh, this was such a bad idea. She wanted him too much, and if there were ever a case of irreconcilable differences, this was it. He kept kissing her. His hands stroked down her body, sliding over her breasts and massaging, then teasing lightly at her nipples. God, he was so good at this.
She whimpered softly, shifting against him, and she felt him reach between them to position himself. "Want you so much," he murmured.
She wanted him too. So much. But suddenly those words felt to hard to say, so she nodded her agreement and slid back, gasping as he filled her.
He groaned, his hands moving up to grip her hips. He was staring up at her, his expression rapt, and she knew, God, she knew, this had been a bad idea. But it felt so damn good that she'd never stood a chance of refusing him. "Dave," she whispered, "David." She began to rock her hips, staring back at him.
He made a wordless sound of pleasure and she kissed him. His lips were soft, undemanding, and he started to meet her movements, each thrust almost gentle.
This was nothing like Vegas. Nothing like the good hard fuck against the wall when she'd promised herself she wouldn't sleep with David Rossi again. This felt right and wrong at the same time, and so good. He held her close, keeping them in the same, slow rhythm, making her feel every bit of this.
It wasn't fair that he should be able to do this to her. She splayed her fingers against his chest, wanting to be angry at him and somehow make this mean less than it did. But the way he was looking at her was addictive, and even though she kept telling herself not to let it go to her head, she couldn't help it.
"Emily, God." His voice was husky and he was running his fingers over her skin, seeking out sensitive spots that made her suck in a breath, finding places where a touch sent an extra thrill of arousal through her.
She finally closed her eyes and gave up resisting, leaning in and kissing his jaw and his throat. His hands massaged at her breasts and trailed over her ribs, and then he nudged her a little, and murmured, "Emily... can I see you?"
He was asking, not telling, and her chest tugged a little but she sat back, letting out a little cry at the way sitting on his cock made it feel that much deeper under the weight of her body. "God," she moaned, biting her lip and trying not to lose her breath at the way he was looking at her.
He thrust up a little harder than he had been, and this time the little cry that resulted from it was louder. One of his hands was cupping her breast, but the other slid down over her stomach until his slid a thumb down into her folds and over her clit. "God, Dave!" she gasped, and his thumb started making slow torturous circles against her as he continued to push into her.
"So beautiful," he breathed. "Graceful and sexy, Emily." He said her name like it meant 'princess' or 'goddess', and she opened her mouth, about to tell him to shut up, but his free hand lifted and he touched one finger to her lips. "You are beautiful," he said again, his voice hoarse.
He slid his thumb a little lower, between them, and when he slid it back up it was slick against her. A little spasm of pleasure ripped through her, enough to make her jerk against the touch, and he smiled and did it again.
She was panting and unable to look away from the expression on his face. It was obvious how much he enjoyed giving her pleasure. His thrusts were growing less controlled as their slow build ignited. His thumb pressed harder, dragging a whimper from her throat. She could feel herself getting closer to climax, and it almost felt like it was too soon, even as her body strained towards it. If this was the last time, she wasn't ready for it to end.
Then his thumb slid away, teasing at her folds and letting the sensation level drop. He was watching her too closely. Emily closed her eyes.
"God," she breathed. His thrusts had slowed again too, and she focused on rolling her hips, rather than meeting him straight on. He let out a little groan, so she continued to rock against him, bearing down on him, each forward motion bringing his thumb against her clit and causing a little whimper. It was too slow, too maddeningly slow, but too good to rush.
"So good," Dave managed. He stroked his free hand up to cup her breast, massaging lightly and circling his thumb around her nipple. "Emily."
She gave herself over to his touch, running her own hands over his body with abandon, trying to get her fill of him. They gave up talking and communicated in gasps and moans, and Dave took his time bringing her to the brink a second time. This time he took her straight over the edge, crying out with her as her entire body lit up with orgasm and she clenched around him. Then he was driving up into her, his hands on her hips, her name falling from his mouth like a prayer. When he came, she worked her muscles around him, dragging a long groan out of him.
Then they slumped together, panting and sweaty. She didn't bother to move off of him, or even pull back so he slipped out. It felt good, draped over his strong body, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the way their bodies were still connected. Her limbs were still buzzing with pleasure, too heavy to lift, and she nuzzled her face against his neck as his hands stroked lazily over her back.
Neither one of them said anything. They both knew this was too much, more than they should have done or allowed themselves to do. This was too intimate for two people who would never really be together. She stroked her fingers over his side and allowed them both to pretend that wasn't the case for the moment. Maybe it would be easier if they didn't speak.
Eventually, she pulled back slightly to pull the covers up over them, assuming, without asking, that she was invited to stay. She settled at his side, her head pillowed against his shoulder, and closed her eyes.
Dave didn't speak either, so she must have assumed correctly. He was still holding her close when she fell asleep.
***
Dave woke up warm and content, not knowing why. A moment later he realized he had a slender body with soft curves pressed against him, and he remembered. At once he felt almost sick with dread. God, it had been too good last night, and it had been one of the worst ideas he'd ever had. They shouldn't have done that, and they'd both known it, and they'd both ignored their common sense.
He stroked a hand over Emily's hair, then eased himself away from her and climbed out of bed. He stood and watched her sleeping for a long time, liking the way she looked, her dark hair spread across the pillow, the navy blue sheets slipping down to expose one creamy shoulder. He drew in a long breath and pulled the covers back over her, then went to take a shower. Either she would wake and leave while he was in the bathroom, or she wouldn't. He wasn't sure which he wanted to happen.
When he got out, he wandered back to the bedroom and got the answer to his own question. His heart sank when he saw the bed was empty and her clothes were gone. For a long moment, he debated just climbing back in bed for a while, sure the smell of her hair would be clinging to the pillow, and then chastised himself for being an idiot and dressed.
He headed down the hall for coffee, already smelling it, as he had the pot set on a timer, and when he got to the kitchen, his heart gave a funny jolt when he saw her sitting at the table. She'd poured herself coffee and didn't look entirely comfortable, but she gave him an awkward smile. "Morning," she murmured.
"Hi," he said, knowing his tone and expression both betrayed his surprise and, probably, his pleasure that she had stayed. He went over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, then leaned against the counter, wondering if he ought to join her at the table. After a moment's debate he did. "Would you like breakfast?" He thought he had some freezer waffles, and maybe some microwave bacon.
"I'm not really hungry," she said quietly, and brushed her hair behind her ears. Dave wasn't really either. His stomach was twisting. After a moment, she sighed. "I don't really know what the protocol is here, Dave, but I didn't just want to leave."
He laughed unhappily and nodded. "Appreciated." He sighed and took a sip of coffee. "We're gonna be okay, Emily." He glanced at her and wished he sounded more certain.
She nodded, and the longer he was in the room the more he could see her returning to what he called her 'work mode', compartmentalizing and shutting down the way she did when she didn't want to deal with something too emotional. It was what she'd tried to do last night before he stopped her.
God, I'm an idiot, he thought.
"I know we will," she said, her expression starting to clear.
He shook his head. "You know, it's okay for this to mean something," he said, trying not to feel hurt. "It isn't worth nothing just because it doesn't mean everything."
Her lips parted, and she stared at him for a moment, but then she nodded again and sipped her coffee. "I know."
Dave nodded too, then decided he'd said enough. God, he'd made it pretty damn obvious yesterday how he felt about her, and there was no changing the fact that they wanted two very different things out of a partnership. He knew himself; he was willing to try, but he knew he wouldn't be good at what she wanted from the man in her life, and that was that. This was such a bad idea, he thought, and wondered what Hotch would say if he took some time off.
Emily drained her coffee cup and went to put it in the sink, not saying anything else, then watched him for a long moment, looking like there was so much she wanted to say that she refused to let out. Finally, she crossed the room and touched his shoulder. "I should probably go. I'll see you Monday?"
Damn it, he couldn't take time off. He wasn't going to run away from this. After all, according to Emily, there was nothing to run away from. "Yeah," he said, looking up at her. He forced a smile after a moment.
She nodded again, then made a funny sort of movement, like she'd lifted her hand to touch his face, and then re-thought the gesture. She immediately bit her lip. "I'll let myself out."
Authors:
innerslytherin and severity_softlyPairing: Rossi/Prentiss
Rating: NC-17
WC: ~11,000
Summary: Emily Prentiss has a problem. Since Dave helped create that problem, she decides he needs to share in the consequences.
Notes: This fic is part of the What Happens In Vegas Universe. While it can be read as a stand-alone fic, it takes place after the first two in the universe, and we feel that reading Why You Should Never Drink Too Much in Vegas and Inappropriate (But Unavoidable) will add to your enjoyment of this fic.
"I'm late."
There were a lot of things Dave Rossi had never expected to hear Emily Prentiss say. At the top of the list were two words that, thank God, she hadn't said yet. Right after those words were two more, and she'd just said them. He stared blankly at her until she repeated them.
"I'm late. Like, late." Her fingers were twisted together and her dark eyes were very wide. And Dave felt like he might be having a heart attack.
"God." He stumbled backwards and sat down, suddenly glad they were having this conversation at his house, because he had a nice full liquor cabinet...that she shouldn't touch. God, it wouldn't be fair for him to get drunk if she couldn't, would it? "Em..."
"A week late," she elaborated, and his chest squeezed again. Oh fuck.
Of course, that's what had got them into this in the first place.
***
Emily thought they'd settled in nicely after the case in Vegas, and having to function without JJ while breaking in Agent Todd had made the team more interdependent rather than less. She could still see the respect in Dave's eyes when he looked at her, and she wasn't treating him any differently, aside from an occasional tiny smile and flicker of a glance when they passed each other in the kitchenette or he sat by her on the jet.
They still worked well together, like they always had, and if Emily occasionally felt a pang of wistfulness, she pushed it aside, because they were both dedicated to their job, and trying to make more of this would only jeopardize that.
Of course, everything had changed when she missed her period. She'd always been astoundingly regular, especially given that she was taking birth control. She would have been even more worried when her monthly visitor failed to come if she'd been regular about taking it over the past month too, except that they had found themselves in the middle of nowhere two weeks ago, and she'd missed a few days.
She tried to tell herself she'd just screwed up by not keeping a fresh pack with her, but she automatically started feeling awkward around Dave. She knew it wasn't really fair to avoid him, but she knew he'd know what was wrong if she didn't, and it was better for him to wonder why she was acting weird than figure out why himself before she even knew if there was something to be worried about.
Still, after four days and no period, she was starting to freak out, and no amount of reassuring herself it was just her hormones out of whack could stop it. When they got home from that case, she drove straight to JJ's house.
JJ answered with little Henry in her arms, and Emily spared him a affectionate glance, suppressing the fleeting idea that it wouldn't be so bad if she was pregnant by reminding herself that David Rossi would be the father if she was.
Oh my God.
"I'm late," she blurted, her gaze snapping back up to JJ and the smile slipping off her face.
"For what?" JJ said, smiling and standing aside so Emily could come in. Then her eyes widened. "Oh my God, you mean--late?"
"Yes, I mean late!" Emily ran a hand through her hair and walked into the living room, then turned around and walked back towards JJ. "Oh, God, I'm late."
JJ shut the door and put Henry in Emily's arms, leaving her basically no choice about whether to hold him or not. "Kitchen," she said, and went that way. Emily stared down at Henry, taking in his button nose and the little cap tucked on his head, and cursed her body. Then she cursed David Rossi. Then she followed JJ.
"God, he's so beautiful," she found herself saying, and sat at the table miserably.
JJ smiled at her, though it looked unsure. "So..." she started. "Who, Em? What happened?"
Emily sucked in a breath and then glared at JJ. "You cannot tell Hotch. Any of this."
"Em!" JJ looked offended. "You're my best friend. Just because Hotch and I are...whatever... I don't tell him your secrets."
Emily sighed. "I hate Vegas."
Emily was looking down at Henry, but she could almost feel JJ's eyebrows lifting, and when JJ spoke, her tone matched the expression Emily was imagining must be on her face.
"Vegas?"
"Heh, yeah," Emily said.
"So, you don't know who the--?"
"Oh, I know," Emily said, and looked back up at JJ, who hadn't seemed to put it all together yet, in spite of Emily having told JJ that Dave had held her hair while she threw up that night.
"You slept with Morg--?" And then the pieces slid into place. "Oh my God... Rossi?"
Emily whimpered in agreement.
JJ stared at her, and then couldn't seem to help blurting, "Was he as good as all the rumors imply?"
Emily glared at her, her mouth dropping open, and JJ seemed to shake herself mentally and held up her hands.
"Sorry. Sorry." She settled in the seat next to Emily. There was a short pause, then, "But was he?"
"God, yes," Emily groaned, and had the desire to drop her head against the table, but found it an impossibility with an infant in her arms, so she just groaned and made a miserable face.
"You slept with David Rossi."
"Can we focus on what's important here?" Emily demanded. "I am a week late after sleeping with David Rossi!"
"But Em, you used a condom, right?" JJ paused, watching her. "Right? Oh, God, Em..."
"I was... really in no condition. He should have... Ugh, what am I going to do, JJ?" Henry made a little noise, and Emily looked down at him automatically. Thank God he was too tiny to understand or remember any of this.
JJ leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "Wait, Dave didn't use a condom? How were you okay with that? Emily--"
"It wasn't like that," Emily said, forced to be fair even if she didn't want to be. "I was drunk, he'd been drinking...we both talked about the condom. We just...forgot." Distraught as she was, Emily really didn't want JJ storming off to yell at Dave. Especially since she probably shouldn't have told JJ about this at all.
JJ still didn't look very happy, but she sat back. "You just forgot," she repeated flatly.
"Jayj, I don't need a lecture. Let's just say if you were sleeping with David Rossi and you happened to be drunk out of your head, the last thing you'd think about was stopping."
JJ raised an eyebrow. "He's that good."
Emily wiped a hand over her face, then flashed a grin at her friend. "Pushed-up-against-the-wall good," she admitted. Her grin faded. "But that's not really great consolation at the moment. He flat out told me he's not a fatherly kind of guy, and even though I do want to have kids... God, this is like the worst way possible."
"Tell me about it," JJ said.
"Hey, no, I didn't mean it like that. I mean..." Emily sighed. "God, what am I going to do?"
"Have you told him?" JJ asked.
"If I'd told him, do you think I'd be here asking you what to do?" Emily sighed.
"Have you taken a test?"
"No," Emily whined.
"I think those are two good steps to take."
Emily gave her a flat look. "Stop being logical. I need a plan, JJ. I need to figure out what to do however he reacts." She paused for a long moment, then bit her lip and looked back down at Henry. "I couldn't give it up; you know that."
JJ sighed. "I know," she said, her voice softening. "For all my staunchly feminist, pro-choice beliefs, I couldn't do it, either. Not after Keri Derzmond..." She sighed. "Okay, Dave can be a real asshole, but he's a good man. And you guys are friends, right? I mean, you two always work well together on cases. I've seen you paired up a lot over the past several months."
Emily brushed a fingertip down Henry's nose, but didn't answer.
"Emily...is there more you're not telling me?"
Emily shook her head. "No," she said quietly. It didn't matter that sometimes her stomach gave a little, pleasant flip when she caught Dave looking at her, or that she would most definitely take him to bed again if it wouldn't complicate things more. She didn't want 'friends with benefits', she wanted something real, and if she slept with him again, it would just confuse the issue more and more every time they did it.
JJ nodded slowly. "Okay." After a moment she got up and went to the fridge, then came back with two decaf sodas. "You have to decide, Em. Take a test, or talk to him." She looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn't.
Emily ignored it, not wanting to bring up a whole new can of worms. After a moment, she huffed a laugh. "Part of me wants to buy a test, go to his house, and make him suffer through waiting for the results with me."
JJ raised her eyebrows and laughed. "Well, he was part of the fun, so he might as well be part of the suffering, too." She reached out and touched Emily's shoulder. "But don't make yourself suffer any longer than you have to. Call him now. Before you leave, so I can hear. And then go to the drugstore, and buy two. Just in case. And then go straight to his house, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars."
Emily gave her an unhappy laugh. "What should I say to him? He's going to think I want sex just coming over out of the blue."
"Who cares what he thinks? Tell him you need to talk, that it won't wait, and you don't care if he's busy, he'll damn well make time for you." JJ's eyes flashed again. "He's the one who forgot the condom, and frankly, if he thinks you're coming over for a booty call, that'll make the shock all that much worse."
"God, what did David Rossi ever do to you?" Emily asked, staring at JJ.
"I think every man should, at least once in his life, have to deal with a pregnancy scare the same way we do," JJ retorted. "And David Rossi has earned about half a dozen, if even a quarter of the rumors are true."
Emily stared at her for a long moment. It was true, she supposed, even if she wasn't really sure she wanted to be with Dave when she found out. Regardless of the results. Still, she found herself laughing softly at the absurdity of it, and the absolute truth in JJ's words. "Fine," she said, halfway between amusement and misery, and carefully shifted Henry in her arms so she could get her cell phone out of her pocket.
Henry made an unhappy noise at the shift, and Emily spent a moment cooing at him until he settled, her chest aching as she did, and then flipped her phone open to call Dave.
It only rang once before he answered. "Rossi." It was almost a bark, and it sent another funny pang through her chest.
"Dave," she said, pleased that she didn't sound as strangled as she felt. "It's Emily."
There was a pause. "Emily. Hi. What's up?" His voice sounded odd. Surprised, maybe, but not unhappy. It was a nice feeling that maybe he wanted to hear from her. Then she realized she shouldn't be thinking that.
"Ah," she started, then sighed. "I need to talk to you. Are you at home right now?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Not on the phone," she said, and glanced at JJ. JJ looked stern, so Emily steeled herself. "I'm coming over."
There was silence. Then, "Are you sure--"
"Now."
There was a long pause, and then a somewhat strange sounding, "Okay." Another pause. "I'll be waiting."
Emily nodded, pleased that at least he didn't seem to be reading all the wrong things into this. "Okay. See you." She flipped her phone shut and gave JJ an anxious look.
"Good." JJ held out a piece of paper. "This is the kind I used. It wouldn't hurt to get another kind, too. They're easy to screw up."
"I don't want to do this," Emily blurted. She hoped her hands wouldn't shake. God, what if Dave yelled? He wouldn't yell, would he? She wanted to think she would yell back at him, but she was afraid she would just cry.
"You have to." JJ lifted Henry gently from her arms. "Go." She kissed Emily's forehead. "It'll be okay."
Emily drew a steadying breath and followed JJ to the door, where she ducked to give little Henry a kiss goodbye. "Bye," she said quietly.
"Breathe," JJ called after her, and Emily just waved in acknowledgment.
Thirty minutes later, she was knocking on Dave's door with two pregnancy tests in her purse. He opened the door and smiled at her. "Hi. Everything okay?"
She just stared at him, trying to smile, and then stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. "Sort of," she said finally, then reached out to nudge his chest with her knuckles. "Maybe you should sit down."
He closed his hands over hers, and gave her a look that said that whatever it was, he could handle it, and it surely couldn't be as bad as it seemed.
She pulled her hand gently out of his. "I'm late."
His expression abruptly changed. She twisted her fingers together and stared at him. "I'm late. Like, late."
"God." He stumbled backwards and sat down, and Emily's stomach jumped. "Em..." He looked shell-shocked.
"A week late," she added, because she didn't know what else to say.
Dave shook his head. "You...Oh. God. Have you, ah...taken a test?"
She drew a deep breath. "No. That's why I'm here, actually. I... you... I'm taking it here."
"You what?" He kept staring at her. "Why?"
"Because I don't want to do this alone!" she snapped, and Dave nodded.
"Okay." He stood up, looking like he was completely at a loss. "Okay." After a moment he stepped closer and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Okay."
She nodded at him. "Okay," she echoed. Part of her wished he wouldn't touch her. She didn't know if it was because that was what started this whole thing, or because she wanted to slump against him and let him hold her.
Don't be stupid, she told herself. "I'll just... ah..." She drew a breath and pulled away, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom.
"Okay." She heard Dave's recliner squeak and figured he'd dropped down in it again. "You don't want company for that part, right?" he called after her.
"Don't make me throw something at you," she called back. She hadn't been expecting him to laugh, but she was still sort of disappointed that he didn't.
Of course, once she got in there, she couldn't pee. She sat on the toilet, reading the instructions over again and telling herself to relax. She should have drunk a bottle of water on her way over. She buried her face in her hands, then reached over and turned on the tap. After about five minutes, she heard footsteps outside the door.
"Did you fall in?" Dave actually sounded more nervous than amused, she thought.
"Shut up," she snapped.
"I thought you, uh. Were punishing me by making me wait with you?"
"Punishing? God, Dave, will you go away?"
She heard him sigh, but his footsteps retreated, back the way he'd come.
A couple of minutes later she finished and washed her hands, then stepped out of the bathroom, wondering where he was now.
"How long does it take?"
He was sitting in his recliner again, elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. He looked like he needed a drink, and if it weren't for the fact that she didn't know if she could join him, she might have taken pity on him.
"A few minutes." She shrugged, and went to sit on the couch--in the middle of the couch where she wasn't right next to him, but also wasn't obviously avoiding sitting by him.
Dave nodded and stared at the floor. "My God," he said after a moment. She glanced at him, but he still wasn't looking at her. "How, uh. How are you?" He finally looked up then. "I mean."
It was almost--almost--worth this, to see Dave Rossi virtually speechless. Almost.
Except that it also made it ten times worse to see the proof, plain as day, on Dave's face that having a kid was the last thing he wanted. God, what was she going to do if she was pregnant? It would have been different if it were some anonymous "sperm donor". She could have handled raising a baby on her own in that situation. But if it was Dave, someone she liked, was attracted to, and respected... she wasn't sure how she could deal with having a child with a man like that when she knew he didn't want it.
"Great. Brilliant. Fantastic," she said, her tone flat, and didn't look at him.
One thing you couldn't say about David Rossi was that he was stupid. She wasn't looking at him, but she heard him get up, and a moment later, he joined her on the couch, his arm sliding around her shoulders.
"Hey, this is... this is okay," he said, and even though his voice didn't sound anything like normal, she could tell he was trying. "We'll...we'll figure things out. What do you want to do? You know I'm not going to leave you on your own."
Emily just shook her head. Part of her wanted to tell him to shut up, that she'd rather be alone than drag him into something he didn't want. The other part of her couldn't bear to form the words. "Stop saying things you're not sure you want to say," she said finally.
"Hey, you don't know what I want," Dave said, tightening his arm around her. "Because I don't know what the hell I want. But I know what I don't want, which is to be an asshole to a woman I care about. God, how long does that damn test take?"
Emily wasn't sure if the churning in her stomach was from the waiting or from his reaction...or maybe from the little hesitation she'd heard before Dave said he 'cared about' her. She sort of wanted to hit him.
"A few minutes," she said testily. "And I don't want you to raise a kid with me just to keep from being an asshole. Not the right reason. I don't want to be... I'm not a consolation prize--'sorry, you didn't get what you really want, but...'--and when I have a kid, it won't be either."
She sighed and stood, walking back down the hallway without waiting for him to reply.
"What the hell?" he demanded, following her. "First of all, no man in his right mind would view you as a consolation prize, Emily Prentiss! Second of all...what the hell? How would a kid be a consolation prize?"
She sighed again, frustrated suddenly, and turned back around to face him. "Okay, maybe that was a bad analogy. I don't want to just be what you got stuck with. I want to... I want to be someone's grand prize, me and my child, not just... what you got stuck with because I got pregnant and it was the honorable thing to do." She realized suddenly that she was getting emotional, and cursed herself, then straightened up and set her jaw. "It's probably done now."
Dave was looking at her with an expression she couldn't interpret. She wasn't sure she even wanted to. After a moment he shook his head. "I have a feeling I'd be the one who was a consolation prize," he said, and turned away. "Okay, so--what now?"
She stared at him for a moment, and had the impulse to correct him, to tell him that she wanted him, but she quickly stifled it. It didn't matter. They wanted totally different things. "Now I just go read them."
"Okay." She saw his shoulders move as he took a deep breath, then he turned back around. "Okay, so we read them."
She opened her mouth, wanting to tell him she'd do it alone, but then shut it, her stomach turning again. She headed into the bathroom, feeling suddenly ill, and picked up the tests... and just stared at them for a moment, unable to believe the overwhelming wave of disappointment at what they said.
"That's a minus. That's just one line," she explained, and willed herself not to be ridiculous. This was the result she wanted. "Both negative." She swallowed and shrugged. "Thank God," she said, and tossed them in the trash.
Dave hadn't bothered looking at the tests. He'd been watching her face. After a moment Emily looked up and forced a smile. "Thank God," she said again.
His brows drew together. "Yeah," he echoed. It was almost funny, now that she'd said negative, he sounded uncertain. And he was still watching her, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to get out from under his gaze.
Note to self: Never sleep with a profiler again.
She sucked in another breath, and shoved the intense longing that had reared its ugly head down hard, then widened her smile. Then she forced a little laugh. "I'm sorry," she said, and touched his arm. "I... I should let you get back to whatever you were doing," she said, and pushed past him out of the bathroom.
"Emily," he said, and his hand settled on her shoulder, stopping her. "Em. I wasn't doing anything. Why don't you stick around? You seem like a woman who appreciates a good bourbon." He made a noise that might have been a laugh. "And you're allowed now."
She shook her head. "No, I really shouldn't stay. I just..." An excuse didn't come fast enough. "Look at what happened last time we drank together."
She felt him step closer behind her, and his other hand came up to rub her shoulder. "I enjoyed that," he said softly. "I think about that night." His voice was low. "I think about you, Emily."
Her eyes were suddenly stinging, and she clamped them shut, thankful he wasn't looking at her face anymore. God, it only hurt worse that he thought about her, when she knew this... whatever it was between them, would never work. "Don't," she managed.
He sighed. "I know I'm not what you want, Em," he murmured. "Not long-term." His hand brushed her hair. "But believe me when I say I wish I could be. You're an amazing woman."
"Dave," she said, and this time her voice cracked. "I said don't." She dropped her head and tried to steady herself. "God, we should have never... I should go."
"I'd rather you didn't," Dave said. His voice was hoarse. She wished she could read him as well as he could obviously read her. "I have coffee. And...we are friends, aren't we, Emily? Will you talk to me?"
She sighed and finally turned to face him. "Yeah, we're friends." The second question was harder to answer, though, so she shook her head and looked away. "I don't know if I can talk to you about this. I don't know what there is to say, really." It wasn't as if talking about things was going to change the fact that they fundamentally wanted different things in a relationship. Hell, she didn't even know if he wanted a relationship at all.
He looked discouraged, though, and she wasn't sure if she'd seen him look like this since...well, Indianapolis, really. She didn't like thinking she was the reason he looked this way.
Dave nodded. "Will you listen to me if I want to talk?"
She noticed then that he was wearing the dark blue sweater Garcia had made him for Christmas. Garcia had knitted something for all of them. Emily had a scarf and tam set in dark green. Something about seeing Dave wearing his present from Garcia made her wonder how many people he had that really cared about him any more. He was famous, but he'd said more than once that he'd burned a lot of bridges behind him.
She nodded slowly. "Sure." She really hoped that wasn't a bad idea. She'd managed to pull herself together for now, but she had a feeling what he was going to talk about had something to do with what had just happened. "I think I'd really rather have the bourbon than the coffee though."
Dave shrugged. "I have some Bushmills. We could have Irish coffee." He tilted his head for her to follow him down the hallway and she realized he was heading for the kitchen. "Or you could go with the Woodford Reserve. Your call."
She frowned at his back. "I really don't care. Whatever you want."
"I'm trying to be polite here. Not put my foot in my mouth by ordering for the lady."
Emily stopped in the doorway and pressed her palm to her forehead. "I really don't care. Irish Coffee, I guess. If you have whipped cream. If not, Woodford Reserve." She dragged her hand down her face, and looked at him again, wishing her chest would stop aching.
Dave gave her a subdued smile and nodded, then pulled out a chair at the table for her. She'd liked the kitchen since she fed his cat for him last month. It was big and warm, with red tile and a rough-hewn wood table in front of the fireplace hearth that it shared with the den. He didn't wait to see if she was going to sit down, though. As soon as he'd pulled out the chair in invitation, he pulled out footed glasses and set about making them drinks.
She settled in a chair and watched him move around the kitchen, propping her head in her hand. She didn't really know what to say, outside of the ridiculous urge to apologize for coming over at all, so she eventually let her eyes drop to the table, tracing the wood grain and waiting for him to join her and say what he had to say.
"This is...odd," Dave said finally, setting a drink in front of her. He sat across from her and looked at her for a moment, then stretched out his hand to cover hers. She tensed and he pulled back, then sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "I'm...not as relieved as I thought I'd be."
She huffed a laugh. "It's because I'm sitting here moping against my better judgment. Once I'm gone, you'll regain the ability to think about it without..." She trailed off, and made a vague hand gesture. "Guilt? Pity?" She shrugged and took a sip of her drink.
Dave frowned faintly. "Knowing that I'm not the kind of man you want doesn't make me stop wishing I could be." He snorted and looked down at his glass. "A woman like you doesn't come along very often."
"Know what sucks the most, Dave? It's that you're not the kind of man I don't want." She shook her head and sat back in her seat. "But that doesn't make us work."
"You want a man who wants to be a father," Dave said point blank. "Frankly, the very idea of raising another human is terrifying to me. Aside from that, I like the way we work just fine." He sighed and looked down at the table. "It wouldn't have been a consolation prize. It would've been me trying to give you what you deserve. Because I wish I wanted the same things you do. I wish..." He shook his head.
Emily gave him another, more miserable laugh. "I wish you did too, and then when I think about it... I can't even begin to imagine you as a father." She didn't want to change him, either. She shook her head, and then slumped in her seat and rested her head against the cool wood of the table. Oh, staying had been a bad idea.
"I'd probably be pretty shitty at it," Dave said. His fingers stroked through her hair. "My dad is a great guy. And I love my nieces and nephews. I've got no reason to not want kids. With Rita--my first wife--it just never happened, even though we both sort of expected it to. But the marriage started falling apart, we stopped trying... My second and third wives, I made sure they didn't want any." He sighed. "You know that's why I haven't pursued anything, right? Why I thought it was best if I just...left Vegas in Vegas."
"It doesn't really matter. It would be stupid to try to pursue anything anyway." She sighed and shifted her drink away so she could bring her arms up and pillow her head against them. She didn't move away from his hand, though. "I should just give up."
"No, you shouldn't," Dave said softly. "Someday someone who is perfect for you will ask you to have his children." He paused and cleared his throat. "And the authorities will never find his body, because I'm a damn good profiler."
That surprised a breathy laugh from her, and somehow those words felt really good and painful at the same time. She rolled her head to look up at him, smiling faintly. "You're an asshole, and this is the most fucked up relationship I've even been in."
He gave her a lopsided sort-of-smile and brushed her bangs out of her face. "I've never pretended to be anything but an asshole." His gaze was warm, warmer than it should be. Sometimes she really wanted to shoot him.
She drew a deep breath and sat back in her seat, ignoring the hint of regret that she pulled out of his touch. She tilted her head at him. "I should really probably go. It's getting late."
"You don't have to go." Dave's voice was quiet, his gaze steady on hers.
Emily watched him for a moment, torn. Then she shook her head. "We can't keep complicating this."
Dave didn't say anything. He held her gaze for another moment, then nodded and sipped his drink.
The non-reaction was worse than any verbal one could have been, and Emily felt her lips pull into a thin line. She looked away. "This is exactly why I should have left sooner." She let out a gusty breath and pushed away from the table. God, maybe she should give up. 'Mr. Right' wasn't coming along, and she was making herself miserable wanting Dave and not letting herself be with him.
At the same time, if things moved farther with Dave, there would always be a 'what if' in the back of her head. Maybe even his. She was doing the right thing.
"Emily," he said quietly. She waited, but he didn't say anything but her name. He looked very unhappy, and it was killing her that she was responsible for that. But they'd been doing fine before tonight. Before she'd come running to him to make him take the pregnancy test with her. She could understand why JJ had wanted her to do it, but now she just wished she'd taken it in JJ's bathroom and had ice cream and snuggled Henry afterwards.
She drew a long breath and let it out. "What?" she said quietly.
He looked up at her, but his expression was troubled. Finally he shook his head. "I'd rather you stayed," he said quietly.
She sighed. "Dave, what good could that possibly do?" she demanded, though her voice was still gentle.
He shrugged. "None. Doesn't stop me from wanting you. But your walking out won't stop that, either."
"It'll make it worse. My staying, that is."
Dave just shook his head.
"Yes, it will," Emily said. "If I stay, you'll want me more, and I'll want you more, and I already want you far too much for my own good, Dave." She glared at the wall for a moment. "It'll end badly," she finished miserably, and turned toward the entryway. This would be easier to just get it over with; rip it off like a Band-Aid.
She heard Dave huff, but she didn't turn. She was resolved. She had self-control. She took several steps towards the front door and told herself she wasn't disappointed that he hadn't stopped her. She'd admitted she still wanted him. As if she'd had to admit that; they both knew. He could have at least tried to make her change her mind. Even if she wouldn't. Because she was doing the right thing.
She heard his chair scrape back and quickened her steps. She should leave now. But then she heard him following her down the hall and knew he wasn't going to let her leave without trying to get in the last word. He caught up with her in the living room, where she'd left her purse. She didn't want to look up, but he strode to the middle of the room and stopped, and she couldn't resist.
He had his arms folded and he was glaring at her. The unhappiness had been replaced with anger, and that was sexier than it ought to be.
"What good does it do for us both to spend the night alone and miserable when you know damn well I want to make love to you?" he demanded. "So what if it ends badly? Not like this is a good ending, you just walking out of here and that's that. We're both still fucking miserable."
She wasn't sure when her mouth fell open, but it had, and she stared at him for a long moment, trying to ignore the jolt of want and warmth that shot through her that he wanted to 'make love' to her. "The more we invest, the more it will hurt when it ends," she managed, because 'I'm afraid I'll fall in love with you' was far too scary to actually say.
"It already hurts," he said abruptly, and crossed the distance between them to kiss her hard.
She made a surprised noise, curling her fingers into the front of his shirt. His arms were around her waist, and she resisted at first, but then kissed him back. God, that was a bad idea, and that thought ran through her like a shock. She pushed back just enough to speak without actually pushing him away. "It'll hurt worse," she protested weakly.
"I know." Dave kissed her again, more tenderly. "It's worth it."
She made a noise that was half miserable and half wanting into the kiss, then pulled back again. "How?"
He sighed and pressed his cheek against her hair. "Because it's you."
"That's not a very good answer," she said.
"It's my only answer for a lot of things lately," he muttered, and kissed her again. "Come to bed with me, Emily." His lips brushed her cheek. "Stay with me tonight." His arms tightened around her. "Let me make love to you."
She dropped her head to his shoulder, her chest aching more, and enjoyed the way he kissed the top of her head and stroked his hands over her back even when she shouldn't. "It's not... that simple, Dave. I can't separate sex and emotion like that." At least she couldn't with someone she knew, and liked, and respected. She couldn't with Dave.
But then Dave said something that surprised her: he mirrored her thoughts.
"I can't either," she said, his voice strained. "Not with you."
She lifted her head and stared at him; he looked like he must have felt like he'd given too much away, and she tightened her arms on him and kissed him to drown out the sudden swell of frightening emotions that tried to fill her chest.
One of his hands slid into her hair and he met her kiss with the same need that she had. She knew she shouldn't give in, but it felt so good to relax into his embrace, to let his kisses and touches show her how much he'd been wanting this. It didn't resolve the main obstacle, and she knew that would have to be dealt with...but God, she just wanted to forget about it tonight and lose herself in Dave.
"Emily," Dave breathed, and kissed her again.
Emily hummed into the kiss, slipping her hand up the back of his sweater, then deepened it, her entire body responding to the way it felt to touch him, like her body was made to be with his.
God. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself, but pressed against him more anyway. "Okay. I'll stay. This is incredibly stupid," she said, all in one breath.
"I know," he murmured, immediately beginning to guide her back towards the bedroom. "And it's going to end badly. And God, you're beautiful. Sexy." He interspersed his words with kisses. "Enthralling."
She huffed a little laugh, but just tugged the shirt under his sweater up to run her hands along his skin.
One of Dave's hands slid between them to unbutton her shirt. "It's been driving me crazy how I can't stop thinking about you," he whispered. "This wasn't supposed to happen." He kissed her again. "But considering I couldn't stop thinking about you before Vegas...I suppose it makes sense."
"Before Vegas?" she asked, smiling faintly and letting him pull her into the bedroom, where he flipped on the lights. It shouldn't have gotten her attention so much, except that last time, not only had she been in a haze of alcohol, but the room had been almost dark. This time was going to seem ten times more real, sharper, crisper. She had to fight the impulse to run again.
He must have noticed her tense slightly, because he slid his arms around her waist, the touch of his hands on bare skin making her shiver, and held her close for a moment, nuzzling her hair.
"Why did you think I set up that wager?" he murmured in her ear, and Emily felt her skin go hot. "Thought one night with you would get you out of my system. Should have known better." He kissed a spot below her ear, then continued the trail of kisses down her neck. "You're the sort of woman that gets under a man's skin, Emily." His fingers spread over her back, heating her body more with their touch.
"Mmm," she hummed. "You're the first one with that complaint," she murmured, then pulled back so she could kiss him fully, pushing at his sweater and shirt to get them off over his head. The kiss broke for a moment as she tossed them aside, and then her hands were roaming over his chest. "God, you're sexy." She looked up and met his eyes. "I've always thought that."
He chuckled, but his gaze was hungry on hers. He finished unbuttoning her shirt and slid it off her shoulders, then cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed tenderly along her cheekbones. "I'm glad you think so," he murmured, and kissed her softly.
She made a pleased and needy noise, then slid her hands down to cup his ass. After a moment, she slid her hands inside the back of his pants and he sucked in a breath.
"Fingers are cold," he complained.
"Deal," she told him, smiling, and ducked her head to lick at his throat.
"Mnnh." He traced his fingers down her neck to her shoulders, then followed her bra straps down. Instead of unhooking it as she expected, he lowered his arms and traced around to the front, his fingertips teasing over the swell of her breasts. He was watching her intently, and she felt another wash of heat.
"God, Dave," she whispered, a little shiver running through her. She leaned in and kissed him again, her lips and tongue soft against his.
"I love touching you," he murmured against her lips. "Love being this close to you. You are so amazing." He smiled and kissed her again, then leaned down to kiss her skin just above the top of her bra. His hands slid down to rest at her waist.
She closed her eyes and drew a breath, taking in the hot touch of his lips and tongue, the scratch of his goatee. Her fingers slid into his hair as he kissed across to the top of her other breast. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched her like this, with almost reverence. "Dave," she murmured, and brushed her lips to Dave's hair, sliding her hands over his back.
He looked up at her for a long moment, his gaze warm, and then knelt in front of her. He kissed his way down to her stomach, then pressed his face lightly against her skin. She could feel his breath raising goosebumps and heard him inhale slowly. God, this had been such a bad idea. He was making her feel too many things. She ran her fingers through his hair. "Dave," she whispered again.
"Beautiful," he said, his tone implying that was just as good as her name. It made her laugh for some reason, and he lifted his head, smiling crookedly at her. After a moment, though, the smile faded and he stood. He looked seriously into her eyes, framing her face in his hands. "Emily, you know how much I like and respect you, right?"
She watched him for a moment, almost afraid to say yes, almost afraid that if she said yes, he was going to say something else that would make the swirl of emotion she was feeling even more confusing. Instead of speaking, she nodded slowly. "It's mutual," she managed to breath after a moment, and lifted a hand to brush his cheek with her fingers.
Dave nodded and opened his mouth, then shook his head and kissed her instead. "I wanted to make sure we were clear on that," he murmured. He kissed her again, guiding her gently back towards the bed. "I should also be clear that you are possibly the sexiest woman I've ever met. Particularly wearing only your jeans and a bra."
She hummed a little laugh. "Oh, I don't know. I'm sure you had your pickings," she teased gently, but let him guide her back until her legs were hitting the bed. Then she just wrapped her arms around him and kissed him again, making little shapes into his scalp. She felt him shiver and smiled against his lips, and then slid one hand down to start working on the button of his jeans.
"And who did I pick?" he pointed out breathlessly. His hands slid up her back as he kissed her again, his tongue flicking teasingly against hers.
"Plenty before me," she said, smiling also sounding breathless after the way that kiss made her stomach twist pleasantly with want. "God, Dave, it doesn't matter," she murmured, and kissed him harder.
"Mmm." He pulled away just long enough to murmur, "I want you in my bed," and then kissed her again, finally unhooking her bra and sliding his hand under her arm to tease at the side of her breast. It made her shiver, and she bit her lip.
"God," she breathed, and finished with his jeans, then gave them a push. He didn't move to help her right away. He slid his thumbs farther under the bra where it was now slack, brushing her nipples. Her fingers tightened against his hips in response to the jolt of desire that sent through her, and she whimpered, and then started to pull open her own jeans.
The corner of his mouth quirked up and he kissed her softly, almost chastely, on the mouth...and then nibbled his way down her neck to suck lightly at the skin where it met her shoulder. One hand still teased at her nipple while the other slid down to curl at her waist. It slid down into her pants, over her underwear, and over her thigh once she'd worked open her jeans, and she remember suddenly how he'd teased her in Vegas.
He didn't seem in any more of a hurry to fully undress her now, either, and it was slowly causing her body to beg for more. "God, Dave," she panted, then slid her hand into the front of his pants and ran her hand up his cock through his boxers. Two could play at that game.
He let out a shuddery breath and turned his head, biting harder, just enough for her to notice. Then he guided her gently down onto the bed, not letting her get out of her jeans before she was on her back. He flickered a smoldering glance up at her, then licked his way down her chest and pulled her bra down with his teeth.
She couldn't help but laugh, though it was affectionate, and she threaded her fingers into his hair when he came back up towards her. He mouthed softly over the rise of one breast, avoiding her nipple, and she moaned and tightened her grip on his graying locks, feeling her nipples go taut without being touched.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured, brushing his lips against hers. He was breathing hard. It was such a good feeling to know she could affect him like this just by letting him touch her. Her eyes fluttered shut and then opened again, because she couldn't not watch him. One hand was curled possessively against her ribs. As he sucked teasingly at her earlobe he lowered his weight gently against her, making her gasp and arch under him.
She shifted and pressed up against him, where she could feel his desire for her evident under his jeans. It pushed a little noise of desire from her and she slid her hand back down to touch him, to curl her fingers around his cock. She stroked lightly and he groaned, his breath hot against her neck, and then she moved her hand to push at the top of his boxers again.
She wanted the clothing between them off, to feel his skin against hers, bare legs against bare legs. "Dave," she whispered, but her tone was insisting when she pushed again.
He groaned again and shifted, panting, to tug at her jeans. She lifted her hips, meeting his eyes and liking the hunger in them. He pulled her jeans off but left her panties. Once she'd pushed his pants off, he traced a finger along the top of her panties, then slid them down more slowly than he had her jeans.
"Mmph," she managed, watching him as he bared her completely. God, he was sexy, and he made her feel sexy. He kissed the top of her knee, and then up one thigh. She smiled at him, then reached down. "C'mere," she murmured, and he obeyed and came up to kiss her. She sucked in a sharp breath at the way their bodies felt together, and she slid her hands over his back, squeezing his ass and pulling their hips together.
He groaned in response, and she let out a little whimper, then nudged him to let her roll on top.
"God!" he gasped as he landed on his back, pulling her with him. He ran his palms up her back, burying one hand in her hair and trailing the other around to stroke a breast. He had a tiny smile on his face as he watched her.
She couldn't help but smile back, and she ducked down and started to trail kisses over his jaw, licking and sucking until she reached his earlobe. She sucked it into her mouth, flicking her tongue at it gently. She whimpered, her breath in his ear when he pinched her nipple lightly, and he responded with a groan.
It was amazing, getting that from Dave, and she settled her hips against him so that she was nestled against his cock, and rocked her hips. That got another groan from both of them, his erection rubbing against her just right, as she shifted again and started to lick at his throat, sucking lightly at the jut of Adam's apple there.
Dave was breathing raggedly, making a noise that was almost a whimper. It sent a thrill of satisfaction through her. He gripped her ass, pulling them closer together and lifting his hips slightly against hers.
It pulled a little whimper from her that was almost a cry, and she bit him, just enough to get his attention. "Oh, God!" he gasped and she slid lower, regretting the loss of contact with his cock where it had been settled against her so perfectly. Still she slid her hands down to his hips and licked and kissed across his chest, then teasingly over his stomach.
His breath was coming faster the lower she got, and when she reached his cock, she kissed around it for a moment before licking up the shaft, tasting herself there.
"God, Emily," he panted, his fingers almost clumsy in her hair. She could tell he was watching her, and she liked knowing how much that turned him on.
Her lips curled a little and she ran her tongue along the head, tasting the sticky, warm precome before she covered the head with her lips. She hadn't done this in some time, but then it had been some time since she'd gone to bed with a man she cared enough about to want to please this way. The thought made her chest ache and she closed her eyes and pushed it away, sliding her lips down as far as she could go, and then drawing back, swiping her tongue back and forth against his shaft.
Dave made a quiet noise and she felt his hand stroking up her shoulder to massage her neck and then back down. His hands were never still on her, even as she was giving him pleasure. It proved better than his words how much he liked touching her. "Good," he gasped, "wonderful." Not that she'd ever met a man who would criticize a blow job. To her amusement, he kept babbling praise as she swirled her tongue around him.
Her fingers were curled around the base of his cock, and she kept working over him slowly, taking more enjoyment from the noises and mutterings of the man underneath her than the act itself. It was amazing to be able to reduce David Rossi to this. He swept her hair away from her face, and she glanced up at him to see he was watching her, rapt.
When their eyes met, his mouth dropped open and his eyelids lowered for a moment. Then he exhaled shakily. "Wait," he managed, sliding his other hand down to her cheek. "Stop. Don't want to come yet." She pulled back slowly, teasing as she watched him, and he groaned. "I want you so much, Emily."
"Mmm," she hummed, and slid up his body, brushing her breasts over his torso teasingly until she could kiss him. It was teasing at first, but then she deepened it, her tongue and lips lingering on his as she melted against him again. "Condom," she murmured, aware enough this time that she was not going to forget (or let him forget) again.
"Yeah." His arms had gone around her as soon as she was against him, but at the reminder he fumbled at the bedside table. He kept getting distracted by kissing her, apparently, because he wasn't making any progress at getting the condom. Finally he sighed and pushed her a few inches away. "Hang on," he said, and pushed himself up onto his elbow, coming back a moment later with an unopened box, which he offered to her.
She tried not to look surprised that it hadn't been opened, though she vaguely remembered him saying something about it in Vegas, about carrying a condom out of hope. It was a little hard to believe, given not only rumor, but how sexy he was. Then again, he was in his early fifties now. She suppressed the urge to ask him how long it had been before her, possibly before Vegas. She bit her lip and opened the box, pulling one of the packets out and tossing the box back onto the nightstand, and then looked at him for a moment before leaning down to kiss him slowly.
"Yeah," he murmured, meeting her gaze and sliding his fingers through her hair. "It's been a while. A long while." He kissed her again and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. She tried not to show her pleasure at the way he'd answered her unspoken question. "Emily. Em." He pulled her down for another kiss, his lips asking rather than demanding.
She hummed happily into the kiss, her fingers brushing his cheeks, and then sat back a bit. "You could have any woman you want," she whispered, hoping he'd take it as the compliment it was, and not a desire for more explanation. She shifted back so that she could take him in fully, drawing her fingertips up his cock. It wasn't long, but it was thick and beautiful, and she curled her fingers around it and stroked lightly for a moment before pulling the condom packet open.
He snorted, but he was grinning faintly at her. "You're the woman I want," he replied, sounding breathless as he watched her. His hands stroked up her thighs, tracing over her skin. "God, you're beautiful."
"Mmm," she hummed in acknowledgment. If only it were that simple, she thought, and then pushed the little pang of disappointment down. She pinched the tip and rolled the condom down over him slowly, then slid back up to kiss him again.
His fingers slid through her hair, holding her there as he drew out the kiss. Oh, this was such a bad idea. She wanted him too much, and if there were ever a case of irreconcilable differences, this was it. He kept kissing her. His hands stroked down her body, sliding over her breasts and massaging, then teasing lightly at her nipples. God, he was so good at this.
She whimpered softly, shifting against him, and she felt him reach between them to position himself. "Want you so much," he murmured.
She wanted him too. So much. But suddenly those words felt to hard to say, so she nodded her agreement and slid back, gasping as he filled her.
He groaned, his hands moving up to grip her hips. He was staring up at her, his expression rapt, and she knew, God, she knew, this had been a bad idea. But it felt so damn good that she'd never stood a chance of refusing him. "Dave," she whispered, "David." She began to rock her hips, staring back at him.
He made a wordless sound of pleasure and she kissed him. His lips were soft, undemanding, and he started to meet her movements, each thrust almost gentle.
This was nothing like Vegas. Nothing like the good hard fuck against the wall when she'd promised herself she wouldn't sleep with David Rossi again. This felt right and wrong at the same time, and so good. He held her close, keeping them in the same, slow rhythm, making her feel every bit of this.
It wasn't fair that he should be able to do this to her. She splayed her fingers against his chest, wanting to be angry at him and somehow make this mean less than it did. But the way he was looking at her was addictive, and even though she kept telling herself not to let it go to her head, she couldn't help it.
"Emily, God." His voice was husky and he was running his fingers over her skin, seeking out sensitive spots that made her suck in a breath, finding places where a touch sent an extra thrill of arousal through her.
She finally closed her eyes and gave up resisting, leaning in and kissing his jaw and his throat. His hands massaged at her breasts and trailed over her ribs, and then he nudged her a little, and murmured, "Emily... can I see you?"
He was asking, not telling, and her chest tugged a little but she sat back, letting out a little cry at the way sitting on his cock made it feel that much deeper under the weight of her body. "God," she moaned, biting her lip and trying not to lose her breath at the way he was looking at her.
He thrust up a little harder than he had been, and this time the little cry that resulted from it was louder. One of his hands was cupping her breast, but the other slid down over her stomach until his slid a thumb down into her folds and over her clit. "God, Dave!" she gasped, and his thumb started making slow torturous circles against her as he continued to push into her.
"So beautiful," he breathed. "Graceful and sexy, Emily." He said her name like it meant 'princess' or 'goddess', and she opened her mouth, about to tell him to shut up, but his free hand lifted and he touched one finger to her lips. "You are beautiful," he said again, his voice hoarse.
He slid his thumb a little lower, between them, and when he slid it back up it was slick against her. A little spasm of pleasure ripped through her, enough to make her jerk against the touch, and he smiled and did it again.
She was panting and unable to look away from the expression on his face. It was obvious how much he enjoyed giving her pleasure. His thrusts were growing less controlled as their slow build ignited. His thumb pressed harder, dragging a whimper from her throat. She could feel herself getting closer to climax, and it almost felt like it was too soon, even as her body strained towards it. If this was the last time, she wasn't ready for it to end.
Then his thumb slid away, teasing at her folds and letting the sensation level drop. He was watching her too closely. Emily closed her eyes.
"God," she breathed. His thrusts had slowed again too, and she focused on rolling her hips, rather than meeting him straight on. He let out a little groan, so she continued to rock against him, bearing down on him, each forward motion bringing his thumb against her clit and causing a little whimper. It was too slow, too maddeningly slow, but too good to rush.
"So good," Dave managed. He stroked his free hand up to cup her breast, massaging lightly and circling his thumb around her nipple. "Emily."
She gave herself over to his touch, running her own hands over his body with abandon, trying to get her fill of him. They gave up talking and communicated in gasps and moans, and Dave took his time bringing her to the brink a second time. This time he took her straight over the edge, crying out with her as her entire body lit up with orgasm and she clenched around him. Then he was driving up into her, his hands on her hips, her name falling from his mouth like a prayer. When he came, she worked her muscles around him, dragging a long groan out of him.
Then they slumped together, panting and sweaty. She didn't bother to move off of him, or even pull back so he slipped out. It felt good, draped over his strong body, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the way their bodies were still connected. Her limbs were still buzzing with pleasure, too heavy to lift, and she nuzzled her face against his neck as his hands stroked lazily over her back.
Neither one of them said anything. They both knew this was too much, more than they should have done or allowed themselves to do. This was too intimate for two people who would never really be together. She stroked her fingers over his side and allowed them both to pretend that wasn't the case for the moment. Maybe it would be easier if they didn't speak.
Eventually, she pulled back slightly to pull the covers up over them, assuming, without asking, that she was invited to stay. She settled at his side, her head pillowed against his shoulder, and closed her eyes.
Dave didn't speak either, so she must have assumed correctly. He was still holding her close when she fell asleep.
***
Dave woke up warm and content, not knowing why. A moment later he realized he had a slender body with soft curves pressed against him, and he remembered. At once he felt almost sick with dread. God, it had been too good last night, and it had been one of the worst ideas he'd ever had. They shouldn't have done that, and they'd both known it, and they'd both ignored their common sense.
He stroked a hand over Emily's hair, then eased himself away from her and climbed out of bed. He stood and watched her sleeping for a long time, liking the way she looked, her dark hair spread across the pillow, the navy blue sheets slipping down to expose one creamy shoulder. He drew in a long breath and pulled the covers back over her, then went to take a shower. Either she would wake and leave while he was in the bathroom, or she wouldn't. He wasn't sure which he wanted to happen.
When he got out, he wandered back to the bedroom and got the answer to his own question. His heart sank when he saw the bed was empty and her clothes were gone. For a long moment, he debated just climbing back in bed for a while, sure the smell of her hair would be clinging to the pillow, and then chastised himself for being an idiot and dressed.
He headed down the hall for coffee, already smelling it, as he had the pot set on a timer, and when he got to the kitchen, his heart gave a funny jolt when he saw her sitting at the table. She'd poured herself coffee and didn't look entirely comfortable, but she gave him an awkward smile. "Morning," she murmured.
"Hi," he said, knowing his tone and expression both betrayed his surprise and, probably, his pleasure that she had stayed. He went over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, then leaned against the counter, wondering if he ought to join her at the table. After a moment's debate he did. "Would you like breakfast?" He thought he had some freezer waffles, and maybe some microwave bacon.
"I'm not really hungry," she said quietly, and brushed her hair behind her ears. Dave wasn't really either. His stomach was twisting. After a moment, she sighed. "I don't really know what the protocol is here, Dave, but I didn't just want to leave."
He laughed unhappily and nodded. "Appreciated." He sighed and took a sip of coffee. "We're gonna be okay, Emily." He glanced at her and wished he sounded more certain.
She nodded, and the longer he was in the room the more he could see her returning to what he called her 'work mode', compartmentalizing and shutting down the way she did when she didn't want to deal with something too emotional. It was what she'd tried to do last night before he stopped her.
God, I'm an idiot, he thought.
"I know we will," she said, her expression starting to clear.
He shook his head. "You know, it's okay for this to mean something," he said, trying not to feel hurt. "It isn't worth nothing just because it doesn't mean everything."
Her lips parted, and she stared at him for a moment, but then she nodded again and sipped her coffee. "I know."
Dave nodded too, then decided he'd said enough. God, he'd made it pretty damn obvious yesterday how he felt about her, and there was no changing the fact that they wanted two very different things out of a partnership. He knew himself; he was willing to try, but he knew he wouldn't be good at what she wanted from the man in her life, and that was that. This was such a bad idea, he thought, and wondered what Hotch would say if he took some time off.
Emily drained her coffee cup and went to put it in the sink, not saying anything else, then watched him for a long moment, looking like there was so much she wanted to say that she refused to let out. Finally, she crossed the room and touched his shoulder. "I should probably go. I'll see you Monday?"
Damn it, he couldn't take time off. He wasn't going to run away from this. After all, according to Emily, there was nothing to run away from. "Yeah," he said, looking up at her. He forced a smile after a moment.
She nodded again, then made a funny sort of movement, like she'd lifted her hand to touch his face, and then re-thought the gesture. She immediately bit her lip. "I'll let myself out."
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Date: 2009-03-04 12:22 am (UTC)ETA: Oh, and Emily & Rossi do work together and seem to have a comfortable rapport, at least. ;) Er, in the show, I mean.