Blurred Lines

2. the jacket

'Emily Prentiss - Ma'am'

I had written her name. I glance up to see the whole team looking at me. I swiftly rip out the page and crumple it as I sit down, stuffing it into my jacket pocket. "What did I miss?" I ask, hoping the team lets it go. They do, thankfully, Reid immediately spewing off new information about the case. "We know that our unsub is targeting couples, but Garcia just found out that the couples were in dom/sub relationships, which means we were just discussing the idea of going undercover again," Luke adds excitedly. "What?" I blink.

Emily leans over the table, and everyone respectfully turns their heads as her shirt falls slightly open. I on the other hand, being directly across from her, am not so discreet. I force my eyes to hers. "We were discussing the possibility of sending in a few agents, two of which would have to act as the targets," she repeats Alvez's words slowly. She holds my gaze, an unspoken request flashing in her eyes.

"I would gladly play that role," Alvez smirks. "You wouldn't be able to handle that," Tara teases, "Newbie." She obviously understands about BDSM, but I know her kinks aren't necessarily related to the dom/sub aspect, being more of a switch herself. She could definitely be a part of this assignment. "No," Emily says, gaze still locked on mine, "It has to be someone who is familiar with the ins and outs of the community, someone who has been involved for a while."

The team murmurs, amongst themselves. "Well no one here has that kind of experience, except you, Prentiss," JJ points out. I start to fidget under Emily's gaze as she slowly smirks at me. "That's where you're wrong, JJ," her smoldering stare finally leaves mine, and I sit back in my seat, exhaling deeply. Emily rolls her shoulders back as she states, "Y/n will come with me."

The table erupts into chaos as I stare stupidly down at the table in embarrassment. Alvez pushes me, catching me off -guard. "I didn't know you were into that, Y/n!" He smiles broadly at me, "We've got a kinky girl in our midst, everyone." I hear everyone talking to me, but I ignore them all. The unit chief just found out, and she's already using it against me. I stand from the table, pushing the chair back away from me. Everyone falls silent. "No."

I walk from the room. I can't go back to the roof, it doesn't feel safe there anymore. I find myself walking for the bathroom, suddenly feeling nauseous. I thought I'd left this part of me behind me. I can't go back into a BDSM club as a submissive. Especially not Emily's submissive. It's too much, too overwhelming. I fall to my knees in front of the toilet, stripping off Emily's jacket. I'm so hot, so flustered.

I expel the coffee from my body, resting my head on my arm after. "Fuck me," I mutter. I stand and flush the toilet, grabbing Emily's jacket from the floor. I stand upright, dots flitting across my vision. I haven't felt light-headed in a while, so I lean against the cool stall wall as I wait for the feeling to pass. The door opens and I freeze. "Y/n?" I groan inwardly. Of course Emily would be the one to come after me.

I take a breath as I peel myself from the wall and open the stall door. "Hey," I say lightly, heading to the sink to wash my hands. I toss her jacket over my shoulder as I do so. I force myself not to instinctively bring water to my mouth and rinse it out. I have to suffer through the taste. Emily watches me. "I'm not doing it," I tell her, staring at her through the mirror.

She sighs. "I thought you would say that," she says. She sounds disappointed, and I feel myself panicking slightly. I can never disappoint someone, let alone my boss. It's a fatal flaw, this need to please others. It's where my submissive role shines brightly. She notices my internal struggle.

"I know it's a lot to ask," she says softly, grabbing paper towels for me. I take them from her as I listen to what she's saying. "It might be our only chance to flush out our unsub." She runs a hand through her hair, a tell of hers that I've come to learn that means she's stressed. I wipe my hands, tossing the paper towels away. "I'm scared," I admit. She steps closer to me, and I step back, not wanting her to notice the acidic taste of my breath.