Blurred Lines

20. the binder

When I wake up the next morning, I'm completely discombobulated. I blink blearily as I take in my surroundings. I'm not in my bed, and I'm not in my house. I take a deep breath and stretch. This bed is ginormous, so much bigger, and way more comfortable than mine at home. I sit upright with a gasp. I'm at Emily's, and of course she wouldn't be in the bed with me. I flop back down, running a hand over my face.

I instantly think of the worst case scenario. She definitely changed her mind. It's not like I haven't done that in the past week multiple times, so I wouldn't blame her. It would hurt like hell, and be more than incredibly awkward at work, but I would get through it. Maybe.

I find myself in the middle of debating where I would move to after I quit the BAU, when Emily tells me we can't be doing this. I'm torn between Italy and Spain. I can speak both languages, so I would be safe in either place. I sigh. Probably Italy, I decide. The smell of coffee knocks me out of my train of thought, and drags me from the bed. It lures me, flooding my mind with my desperate need for caffeine, enticing me to the kitchen.

Emily is sitting at the table, looking at her iPad. She looks up when she sees me walking in. "Good morning, Angel," she smiles at me. I mutter a response, barely giving her a second glance, too focused on my search for coffee. I spot the machine and make a beeline for it. "Y/n," Emily's voice is sharp, halting me mid-step. "Yes?" I ask as I turn towards her, peeved that she's preventing me from being able to have my morning dose of caffeine.

"Watch the tone," she raises an eyebrow at me. Oh, right. "But, coffee," I whine. "Sit," she commands me. I huff and listen, flopping down into a seat at the table. "I'm moving to Italy," I mutter under my breath. "What was that?" she leans in, having missed what I said. "I said I'm moving to Italy. I'm gonna quit and move. Adios, Arrivederci, Ciao, goodbye," I grumble. She laughs at me. "You are very grumpy in the morning," she grins, "Care to explain why you're going to move to Italy?"

"Uh, I want coffee," I deadpan, pointing at her mug, "And Italy has very good coffee." She breathes another laugh, "Okay, okay. You're right, they do have good coffee there. I'll get you your coffee. I can't deal with a brat this early in the morning." She stands and goes to make it for me. "I can make it, you don't have to," I immediately say. "It's alright, Y/n, I want to," she says, already pulling a mug from the cabinet.

I shrug, not that she can see it, since her back is to me. I spot her coffee and reach for it, giving it a smell. It seems innocuous, just simple black coffee, so I take a sip. It's sweet, way sweeter than I thought it was going to be. But somehow, bitter at the same time, just the way I like it. I take another sip, confused at the taste. I've seen her make her coffee before, but I never paid attention to what she actually put in it.

I love it. I hum happily, cradling the mug in my hands. She turns at the sound, and I freeze, smiling sheepishly at her. "What? It was right there, and it was so tempting, and I actually really like it," I ramble, looking back at her mug in my hands. I take another sip and nod, "Yup, I don't know what you did to this, but it's so good." Bless her heart, and my life, she just chuckles. "Keep it," she smiles, "Not the mug, I like that one, but the coffee."

It's my turn to laugh. She looks at me in surprise, as if she hasn't heard me ever make that sound before in her life. I realize that it's because it's the first time she's ever been the one to make me genuinely laugh. She wanders back to the table, the mug meant for me now hers. "Thanks, Em," I say. "Sure," she says simply. "No, I mean, yeah, thank you for the coffee. But I was talking about last night," I elaborate slightly, and she nods slowly in remembrance.

"Of course, Y/n," she leans forward slightly, "Do you get panic attacks like that often?" She must remember that I mentioned having anxiety when we were in her office before we went undercover. I take a sip of my coffee as I think. "I mean, I haven't in a while," I muse. "It was something I did, then," she sighs. I furrow my brow as I look at her as if she's grown three heads.