Emily Prentiss One-Shots

Emily/JJ

Title: liminal - tablox (Ao3)

Summary: Hotels have always felt like a liminal space.

In a place where the rules don't apply, Emily and JJ have their own.

Rating: Teens and Up

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Hotels have always felt like a liminal space.

Nothing quite feels real, permanent. Everything looks the same, the lighting is never quite bright enough. It's not home, but you live there. It's not work, it's not your life. It's something in between.

As a kid, it's exciting to stay in a hotel. There are vending machines nearby, beds to jump between, sometimes there's even a pool. Parents let their children stay up late and watch TV in bed, and in the morning, they may let them make their own pancakes.

As an adult, it's not quite as exciting.

The comforts of home are missing, the fancy coffee maker and the high thread count sheets. The walls are thin, the late night shows are bad, and the pillows are uncomfortable.

And yet, there's something enticing, alluring, about hotels. There's still a sense of almost lawlessness. Emily feels in between too, not quite fully herself, but not someone else either. She's intimately familiar with both ends of the line, and she knows what she prefers.

Hotels are a place where she can be whoever she wants to be, where they can make their own rules.

The carpet under Emily's feet is rough as she drags herself from the bathroom to bed. She's bone tired, the case running long and tough and sapping every bit of energy she had.

She sits on the edge of the bed in the lamplight, taking stock of what she needs to do in the morning. Her bag is mostly packed, she'll just need to grab her toiletries and get dressed. There's still work to be done at the station, so her badge and holster sit on the nightstand.

On the tv stand across from the bed, she looks for a glint of gold. A ring sits amongst a pair of necklaces, a handful of earrings.

Rule number one: No jewelry worn in the room. Period.

She's a clean slate, only the ink and the scars on her skin marking her.

Emily's hand hovers over her chest, grazing her t-shirt just over the tattoo only two other people have ever seen. A pair of sparrows, stretching their wings over her heart, rest there, reminding her that she's here, she's alive.

She breathes deeply, her hand pressing into chest, her heartbeat steady beneath it.

When the rule was made, she couldn't just say no rings. It was easier to say no jewelry, easier to share the responsibility. So she takes off her earrings, unclasps her necklace. On nights she feels the particular need to fully shed her other lives, she will set her watch with the other pieces as well.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Rule number two: No talking about work.

Easy. Emily's so tired that she'd barely spoken between the station and the hotel room.

It's hard sometimes though. When the cases are complicated, when she's brimming with thoughts and ideas, she has to consciously stop herself from speaking them. Instead, on those nights, she picks up a book and reads aloud. She reads through many of her favorites this way, sharing the words and reminding herself that this is for the best that she only does this here.

She's exhausted now, so she simply slides under the covers and turns the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. She turns to face the middle of the bed, and reaches her hand out until it collides with something warm.

Emily moves in closer, pressing her lips to a forehead, a nose, a mouth. She smiles into the kiss, and when a tongue slips into her mouth she reciprocates eagerly. A hand caresses the side of her face, and Emily tucks her own hand underneath a t-shirt.

"Thought you'd be too tired," she whispers, pulling away for a moment. Their foreheads pressed together, Emily inhales deeply, taking in the scent of lavender and something warm, sleepy.

"Rule number three," JJ murmurs. Make the most of this time.

Emily smiles as she presses her lips to JJ's again, her hand sliding higher along JJ's ribs and along her bare spine. JJ pulls Emily's shirt up, her mouth descending further and further. Emily holds JJ as close as she possibly can, and they spend the night with no space between them.

Because in the morning, rule number four comes into play.

The sun rises, shines through the sliver of space between the curtains and onto Emily's face.

She is alone in the bed, the space beside her still warm to the touch. The shower is running in the bathroom.

This is how it goes. They spend the night in the between, and in the morning, under the light of day, they move back to the real life side of who they are.

Rule number four: Nothing leaves the room.

Nothing being them, their relationship, the moments they share. They leave it all behind in the hotel room, words and actions lingering in the air and sheets. No texts, no calls, no contact outside of work and Penelope-organized girls' nights.

The door to the bathroom opens and JJ steps out, dressed with her hair up in a towel. She gives Emily a soft, sad smile. It's the smile she always wears on mornings like this, and all Emily can do is return it as she drags herself out of bed.

Emily gathers her clothes and heads to the bathroom, but as she passes by, JJ reaches for her. She takes her hand, squeezing it once, twice.

That isn't part of the routine.

Emily's heart jumps in her chest, her eyes snapping up to JJ's. Neither speak, but in JJ's eyes, Emily sees something that she desperately hopes is real, something a lot like love. But then she remembers.

Nothing leaves the room.

It can't be real, it can't be.

She whispers, "Number four, Jen."

JJ drops her hand like it's burned her and gives Emily a short nod. Her smile becomes tight as she turns away.

Emily shuffles into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning back against it. She lets her head tip back, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath.

They've had the rules for years.

She has never had to remind JJ of the fourth rule.

It's exhausting, living in this in between. But if it ends, if the rules are broken, things will change and Emily isn't sure she can handle the outcome either way.

She opens her eyes, straightens up. They'll stick to the rules, she'll make sure of it.

By the time she's dressed and ready to go, JJ is sitting on the bed waiting for her. They look at each other, and this time they both understand.

They will leave this behind today, in just a matter of moments.

And maybe sometime soon they'll return, but for now, what they have done together - will do together, are doing together - will stay right here, in between them and their lives.