It had been a while since she had gone clubbing, especially by herself. Emily Prentiss sighed in the once-familiar smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke of the lesbian bar.

She might not be twenty-three and crazy now, but hey - experience is sexy. Or so she told herself.

At any rate, the girl behind the bar served up her beer with a wink and Emily allowed it to give her ego a small boost. Raising it to her lips, she let her gaze roam over the crowd, looking for some promising someone, until she saw something that almost made her drop her drink.

In the middle of the dance floor, blonde hair swinging, was Jennifer Jareau.

Emily didn't know which one was harder to process - that JJ was in a gay bar, or that she looked so damn sexy, dressed in a tight, slinky black dress that was light years away from her usual button-up shirts and conservative business skirts. Generally one does not expect to find one's coworkers dancing like a sex goddess surrounded by worshipful followers on one's night off. Not that she was objecting, really - JJ was beautiful even in her usual work clothing, and Emily was lying to herself if she didn't admit to letting her eyes linger a bit too long once or twice. But there is a huge difference in having a few private thoughts about a colleague and seeing her, red-lipped and high-heeled, in a very... unprofessional environment.

She was going to need a few more drinks.

About halfway through her second one, though, her attempt to drown her desire in alcohol was interrupted by the very girl she was trying so hard to not pay attention to.

"Oh, my God," JJ's familiar voice came from behind her. "Emily?"

Suavity, Emily told herself. Grace. Beauty. Confidence. You got this.

"Hey!" she said, a shade too casually.

Shit. Shit shit shit. She's a profiler, she'll see right through that.

"I didn't expect to see anyone from work here," JJ said a tad nervously, smoothing her hands down her dress, as if trying to make it longer.

Oh, good. I'm not the only one who's nervous here. Emily tried not to think too hard about what that nervousness could stem from.

"Well, if you're worried about me outing you, you shouldn't. I'm not exactly... open, either," Emily explained.

Oh, shit. This is so awkward. And she's so cute.

JJ blinked, surprised. "Uh, thanks?"

"Oh, Lord. Did I say that out loud?" Emily asked, although JJ's expression was answer enough.

I might as well go for it. It's not like this could get any worse.

"Well, I meant it. You look stunning," she told her. JJ's answering smile and blush was possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

But JJ beat her to the kick. "Hey, Emily, you want to come out on the floor with me?"

"Oh, absolutely." Her former plans of angsty drunkenness completely forgotten, the brunette woman followed the beautiful blonde into the middle of the crowd.

The music was loud, the lights were probably a seizure hazard, and she was almost trampled at least three times, but Emily hardly even noticed because every time the crowd shifted she got closer and closer to JJ and she was so okay with that. Evidently JJ was okay with it, too, because soon the younger woman's hands were on Emily's hips and then on her back and then around her neck and as much as Emily would love to make out with the pretty press liaison the middle of the dance floor was just not an ideal place.

"Let's get out of here," she said in JJ's ear. With a fervent nod, she lead their way through the crowd, out into the night.

No sooner had they gotten outside when JJ's mouth slammed into her own and it was almost too much, the cool air and their hot bodies, the lights from inside still superimposed on her vision, and her, her, her, fingers in her hair, lips on her mouth, everything Emily had ever dreamed and more.

Emily Prentiss had never believed in soulmates, but this might just change her mind.