RED

hangovers, voodoo, and sunglasses

holy shit this is long- enjoy !!

word count: 3478

Emily groaned as the shrill sound of her alarm sliced through the remnants of sleep. She slapped her hand on the nightstand, desperately trying to find the source of the noise. Her head was pounding like a jackhammer, and her mouth felt like she'd swallowed sandpaper.

"Fuck," she muttered, finally managing to silence the alarm. She cracked one eye open and instantly regretted it, the sunlight piercing through the blinds like a cruel joke.

She wasn't sure how much she had to drink last night, but judging by the way her body felt like it had been hit by a truck, it was too damn much.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and she forced herself to reach for it, wincing as her head protested the movement. A text from JJ lit up the screen.

JJ: I'm dead. Send help.

Emily chuckled despite the throbbing in her skull and fired back a response.

Emily: RIP us. Penelope better be as hungover as we are.

As if on cue, another text popped up, this time from Penelope.

Penelope: I think I'm still drunk. My head feels like it's about to explode. Who let me drink that much?!

Emily managed a weak smile as she rolled out of bed, immediately regretting the decision as her stomach lurched in protest. She staggered to the bathroom, splashed some cold water on her face, and stared at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged, her hair was a mess, and she looked like she hadn't slept in a week.

"Jesus Christ, you look like death," she muttered to her reflection.

As she reached for her toothbrush, a flash of memory hit her like a freight train. Hotch. Last night. The bar. The smoke break. That kiss.

For a moment, her hangover-induced misery was replaced by a sudden jolt of panic. Oh, God. They had kissed. And not just a peck on the cheek—a real, full-on kiss that had made her feel like red-hot fire was coursing through her entire body.

She paused, her toothbrush in mid-air, trying to piece it all together. They had been outside, the cool night air helping to clear her tequila-fogged brain. She remembered the way he had looked at her, how his eyes had softened, and the world around them had seemed to blur. And then, the kiss. His lips on hers, the way she had melted into him, the heat that had surged between them.

A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she felt warmth spread through her chest, cutting through the hangover haze. Whatever mess her life had become, that kiss had felt like the one thing that made perfect sense.

But she quickly shoved the thought aside, forcing herself to focus on the current task—surviving this hangover and making it to Rossi's without spilling her guts or her secrets.

A knock on the door made her wince. She shuffled to open it, finding JJ standing there, looking equally as rough. Her blonde hair was in a messy bun, and she was wearing oversized sunglasses, despite being indoors.

"Please tell me you have coffee," JJ groaned as she stumbled inside.

"Nope, but I've got some Advil and the world's shittiest hangover," Emily replied, holding up the bottle.

JJ grabbed the bottle like it was a lifeline and dry-swallowed two pills. "Remind me never to drink that much again."

"Deal," Emily said, swallowing two pills herself. "Where's Penelope?"

"On her way up, I think," JJ replied, slumping onto Emily's couch and burying her face in her hands. "Why did we let Derek buy us so many shots?"

"Because we're idiots," Emily said flatly. "Also because we're apparently in some kind of self-destructive competition with each other."