Smoking Gun [Emily Prentiss]

Six

A/N: For the purpose of this story, Emily went undercover while working with the BAU and it wasn't as deep undercover as it was in the original plotline. Also, Ian Doyle lived a few states over; not in another country, and his relationship with Lauren happened over the course of 11 months. The time between Emily going undercover and Ian Doyle's return was about three years.

Then

Willow moaned as David Rossi withdrew the wooden spoon, her tastebuds exploding with the Italian flavor. "That's so good, pasta daddy."

He glared at her, his cheeks glowing red (which he'd vehemently deny, if anyone were to point it out) as he pointed the spoon at her. "Don't call me that. Especially within hearing distance of Morgan; he'd never let me live it down."

Willow laughed, the sound like a breath of fresh air, and, as if on cue, the front door burst open and Derek Morgan led the way through the house, his deep voice carrying through the mansion.

"I come bearing a variety of booze." He said, placing the several paper sacks on the countertop. He pressed a kiss to my temple. "Good evening, angel."

"Hey." Willow smiled, but it faded upon hearing Emily, JJ, and Penelope in the other room, their voices traveling closer. She hadn't expected them to be joining as David had said it was a 'night for the men'.

"I'm sorry. I let it slip that Willow would be here and Garcia insisted-"

Willow waved David off with a smile. "There's nothing to be sorry for. It's fine."

She knew a clean break would be difficult with the two of them having mutual friends. While they were Emily's team, Willow had grown very close with the agents, especially David, who had become an off-beat sort of surrogate father, and Derek, a brother. She was close with Penelope and while she enjoyed Spencer's company, the two weren't close by any means, and J.J... well, J.J. and Willow didn't vibe all that well together. Not that she was a bad person, or especially bad to be around; the two women just weren't on the same frequency.

"Oh, hey, Willow." Emily greeted upon seeing the younger woman, her smile fading like taillights in the dark.

It was tense for a moment, while the agents waited with bated breath, curious to see how this would go down, and ready to intervene if necessary. 

"How are you?" Willow asked, hoping her voice wouldn't betray the way her heart was racing and it felt as though she'd received a swift blow to the stomach.

"I'm good."

It was without thinking that Willow replied, "You look good."

"You look good, too." Emily couldn't help the sad smile the compliment gave her.

"I look good, too; we all look fantastic. Take a drink!" Derek stepped between the two women with a stemless wine glass in each hand. Neither of them hesitated before taking a hardy sip.

Willow cringed, while Emily exclaimed, sputtering, "Jesus Christ, Morgan!"

"What?" He asked, feigning innocence, but his grin tattled on him.

"Tequila!" Stuck her tongue out, grimacing. "I hate tequila, ugh!"

"Oh, my bad. I thought it was your favorite!"

"My favorite?!" She shrieked, rinsing her mouth in the sink, while everyone tried to hide their amusement.

"Actually, Derek, hon, it's my favorite." Willow chuckled, placing a hand on his dark bicep. "Emily would rather have her dark liquor."

"Oh, right." Derek drawled, laughing at the stink-eye he caught from his friend and coworker.

The ice had been broken, but while it appeared to be as it had been while Emily and Willow were together, everyone was painfully aware that it was no longer so.