Lieutenant and SSA (Emily Prentiss x Reader)

07. Our perfect christmas

Emily pov - December 25th, 1997

I awaken to the sound of soft snoring beside me. Turning my head, I see her peaceful expression, her hair a wild tangle on the pillow. A small smile tugs at my lips as I trace the outline of her cheek with my finger. Her warm skin spreading over to me, so soft but yet so hard.

"Good morning," I whisper, and she stirs, eyes fluttering open. As a first instinct she drapes her arm around me to pull me towards her. We look at each other for a moment before she breaks into a beautiful grin.

"Hey there, gorgeous. Merry Christmas." She says and I'm reminded that it's our first Christmas together.

I scoff lightly. "You know neither of us celebrate Christmas." Due to the strain on both our relationships with our families, and the distance between the only good ones we have.

"Right, right. But it's still a nice day, and I want to spend the first of many with my girlfriend." Her words make my cheeks heat and she pulls me in even closer before laying down her head to sleep again. And adds sleepily. "Let's stay in bed for a whole longer, yeah?"

I nod, leaning in to kiss her softly before snuggling up to her chest. "Sounds perfect to me."

And so we stay cocooned in the covers, listening to the faint jungle of bells outside and the intermittent chirping of birds. Soon, she starts to fidget with the hem of my shirt as well as my hair, her stomach growling audibly.

"I'm hungry. Should we make something to eat?"

I smirk. "I think we both knew that was coming," and she laughs. "What do you feel like having?"

Her eyes light up at the suggestion that dances on my tongue. "Cookies?"

"Cookies?" I laugh. "Of course. Let's go make some Christmas cookies."

In the kitchen, we set to work, our movements fluid and well-practiced in the months we've been together. Like a well oiled machines. I grab ingredients and she starts mixing, a sprinkle a flour dusting from her hair.

As we start mixing the ingredients, we get into a lighthearted argument about whose recipe is better.

"I can't believe you think your recipe is better than mine." Y/n says, shaking her head.

"I mean, it's not like I'm trying to start a war here." I respond with a shrug.

She rolls her eyes playfully, wrapping her arms around my waist as I throw mine around her neck. "Well, you should be. My grandmas recipe has been passed down for generations." Only light mention we even have of our families today.

I grin and I lean closer. "I respect tradition, but I do like to put my own spin on things." But instead of kissing her I throw some flour in her face, causing her to back away.

"You did not." She says before collecting new flour in her own hand to throw at me. A playful grin playing on her lips as I realise what I've started.

We're laughing so hard that it's hard to aim properly, but we manage to get flour all over each other and the kitchen.

We end up collapsing in a heap on the floor, hands coated in dough and flour, both of us gasping for air between laughs. I glance over at her and laugh again at the sight of her hair sticking up in every direction. 

"Wow, that was... messy." She says between giggles.

"But so worth it," I say, grinning.

We clean up the best we can before the cookies go in the oven, occasionally breaking into spontaneous dance moves matching the music off the radio, or poking each other in the ribs. We talk about everything and nothing, starting down tangents and losing track of time.

At one point, she gets some chocolate on her cheek and I can't resist stealing a kiss to wipe it away. But she catches me and it turns into a more passionate embrace, our teasing forgotten for a moment as our hands travel across as if it were the first time we'd touched each other. And as I've told Tsia, it's like that every time. Like it's our first time over and over again. No matter how many times we've done it.

Eventually, the cookies are done and we carefully remove them from the oven. Managing to not get burned.

And as they stand there, cooling down, we both head to change into something not so floury. Just into other sets of pyjamas. And then trying so hard not to get carried away.

We're both still giggling as we grab the milk and settle back in bed to watch movies. But ever now and then, one of us will break into a grin at the thought of our new memory in the kitchen. Our ever first Christmas, one of many more.

Now we've retreated back to bed, laden with cookies and milk. We snuggle together, our limbs intertwining as we watch cheesy Christmas movies streaming on TV.

"Can I say something?" Y/n murmurs after awhile.

I prop myself on an elbow to look at her. "Of course."

"I know we don't like to celebrate Christmas, and I respect that and all. But I just..." she tucks some hair behind my hair as she admires me. "I'm really happy we have each other today. You know?"

My heart swells with emotion at her words. "I know," I say softly, leaning down to kiss her sweetly. "I love you."

"I love you too." She murmurs back against my lips.

The rest of the day is spend in a blissful haze. We laugh and joke and devour cookies until there's hardly any left. We share passionate kisses throughout, the taste of sugar still on our lips. And as night settles in, we fall asleep tangled up with each other, our hearts brimming with love.

As we drift off to sleep with the tv still on, I wrap my arm around her waist, holding her close. Her soft breathing pulls me into a peaceful state, and I close my eyes, feeling content and grateful.

When I wake up, she's already stirring next to me. I can see the morning light creeping in through the window behind her. Her hair is once again tousled and her eyes are still drowsy, but she smiles at me as she shifts to face me.

"I had the best Christmas with you." She whispers, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

I smile back at her, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. "Me too. Maybe we should make it a tradition."

She nods, a playful glint in her eyes. "As long as we have an endless supply of cookies and movies, count me in."

I chuckle, pulling her in closer. "Deal." And then I seal it by pressing my lips against hers. And all of a sudden she's awake again, as her hands search hungrily underneath my shirt. Fidgeting at the hem of my shorts.

And with that, with a new day at the horizon, our Christmas tradition sets in stone. Though we don't celebrate the traditional way, we have our own way of making memories and cherish each other. And isn't that what the holidays are all about anyways?