#hotchniss drabble

[em-prentiss]

lost all control of my heartbeat now

----

The cat’s nose twitches, more of its dark body slinking out in an attempt to sniff at his shoes. When Aaron looks back up, he finds Emily trying to stifle a laugh.

“Sorry about that, he’s nosy. Um, what brings you here?” She asks, not unkindly, her voice polite but fairly confused.

Excellent question. He only wishes he had the answer.

Word count: 3.3k

Ao3

----

It’s all Morgan’s fault.

He was the one who asked Emily what she was doing tonight. He was the one who started the conversation—never mind that she engaged in it—that led him here. She had wrinkled her nose, made her distaste for Valentine’s clear, and recommended them a Chinese place she said she’d be ordering from tonight.

Maybe he could blame the restaurant. Blame the nearly incomprehensible menu that sent him running out the door. The tiny, minuscule distance from it to Emily’s apartment.

But as Aaron rings her doorbell, he knows he’ll only be blaming himself.

He grows antsy in the few seconds it takes for her to open the door. His heart slowly picks up its pace at the thud of her footsteps on the floor, the twist of keys in the lock.

The door cracks open. Emily’s face comes into view, pale and bare of makeup. Her eyes are red, fresh tears running down her cheeks that she wipes away with the corner of the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron blurts out, subconsciously taking a step closer to the door. “Are you okay?”

His eyes flit over her. He can’t see a point of injury, but that makes it worse, internal. It’s barely been two weeks since—

“Hotch?” Emily’s eyes go wide. “What’s going on? Is there a case? I didn’t hear any—”

“No, there’s no case.” He says, relaxing in time with her when her shoulders slump. She nods haltingly and wraps her blanket tighter around herself. It’s not long enough to cover her legs—bare beneath gray cotton shorts and crossing at the ankles, half hiding behind the door. Aaron’s eyes snap back to hers, the confusion on her face adding to the heat gathering in his cheeks.

“Okay, uh…” She subtly tries to wipe the tears beneath her eyes, “Is everything okay?”

Her voice is a little nasal. She sniffles lightly, the tip of her nose red, and Aaron’s stomach churns.

“Are you?” He asks. The last time he saw her like this is still all too fresh in his mind. It makes him uneasy, seeing the shine of her eyes twice in about the same number of weeks. But her shoulders lift in a casual shrug, the lines of her body looser than they were in the jet.

“Oh, yeah, Sergio’s fur just got into my eyes.” Aaron stares blankly. “I’m mildly allergic, don’t worry about it,” Emily waves her hand dismissively, her gaze flitting down. She closes the door a crack. 

A meow sounds. Aaron looks down, too, surprised to see said black cat craning its head between the gap in the door. 

Well, at least that she wasn’t lying about. The cat’s nose twitches, more of its dark body slinking out in an attempt to sniff at his shoes. When Aaron looks back up, he finds Emily trying to stifle a laugh.

“Sorry about that, he’s nosy. Um, what brings you here?” She asks, not unkindly, her voice polite but fairly confused.

Excellent question. He only wishes he had the answer.

“The Chinese place.” Aaron blurts out again. Jesus, he’s forgotten how to talk.

“The Chinese place?” Emily echoes. She tilts her head, her gaze still blank. “What about the Chinese place?”

“Well, uh…you recommended it,” he says needlessly. Trapped beneath her eyes, he tugs a little at the too-tight tie around his throat, “And I went to check it out. Thought I’d give it a try since it’s close by and we hadn’t eaten, but…” But the restaurant was busy with couples and he already looked pathetic in his starched suit, standing out in the middle of a homey, family owned establishment with no one at his side. The heat travels to his ears and his gaze drops, now solely speaking to the cat that’s halfway out of the threshold, “I couldn’t figure out the menu.” 

The silence rings in Aaron’s ears. He stifles a grimace. The skin beneath his suit itches uncomfortably, hot and tight as he stares the cat in the eye and wonders how the hell he can get himself out now.

Suddenly the cat is getting closer, because the door has cracked wider and Emily is leaning out, her feet still inside the threshold of her apartment as she stretches her body out to meet him. “Well,” she says, her voice quivering with a barely concealed laugh, “you could’ve called, Hotch. I’d have given you some recs.” Dimples wink in her cheeks as she presses her lips together, eyes now shining with an entirely different light.

Aaron’s spine turns to liquid, because even if she’s laughing at him, she’s laughing. He offers back a meek smile, trying his best not to let his eyes drop down to the long expanse of her legs now fully in view.

“I hadn’t really thought of—”

His stomach rumbles. Loud enough that the cat shrinks back, running to Emily’s legs and winding itself around her ankles. 

Emily lets herself laugh this time, a proper one with teeth and dimples. The sound is familiar, singing in his ears, though he hasn’t heard it in a while. Aaron’s lips tug into an embarrassed smile, his face somehow burning impossibly hotter, but it doesn’t matter because she’s opening the door as far as it can go and gesturing for him to come inside.

“Come in. I already ordered but I’ll place another order for you, c’mon.” 

Aaron stares. 

What had he expected, really? 

Emily tilts her head impatiently. 

“That’s very kind of you, but—”

“Hotch,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes, “you already came all this way. I’m not letting you go without food. Unless—you didn’t have any plans, did you?”

Aaron clears his throat. “None.”

Emily smiles brightly. “Well then,” she steps out into the hallway, her fingers circling his wrist and tugging, “you can keep me company. Though I should let you know, I do have a date already,” she tilts her head to the cat. Her palm kisses the back of his hand, fingers pressing against his pulse, and Aaron can’t fight her as she gently pulls him inside. “He gets possessive.”

Somewhere far behind the thick fog in his brain, Aaron thinks he gets why her therapist assumed the damn cat was a person. Emily lets go of him once they’re inside, her warmth departing from his hand as she closes the door on them and the cat, firmly sealing him in. She locks it twice; the small action makes him think it’s habit, the way her wrist turns without stopping until two clicks sound in the silence between them.

Suddenly he thinks of a lonely apartment. A weakened woman hiding herself behind it, licking her wounds. Aaron drops his gaze, fiddling with his fingers to stop himself from over analyzing her every move. Shame bursts in his stomach, hot and acidic as the cat—Sergio, his name’s Sergio (who names a cat Sergio?)—sniffs at his oxfords.

Then Emily turns, and the light in her eyes breathes some easiness back into his chest.

“Are you staying in your coat?” She drawls, her brow arching. With the casual blanket around her shoulders and the soft ruffles adorning the hem of her shorts, he does seem overdressed, ridiculously so.

Aaron shrugs it off, ignoring her extended hand and hanging it on the hooks behind her himself. “I really didn’t mean to intrude,” he murmurs, following her into the living room.

“Yeah, I know,” Emily says, her voice absent as she picks up a worn menu from the coffee table, “you’re not. Do you have any allergies?

She tucks some of her hair behind her ear, her lips pursing as she skims the menu. The corners of her eyes are still red but no longer damp, and when his gaze flits about her living room, he finds the reason: Notting Hill is paused on the tv. Her couch is a mess of balled up tissues and another blanket, this one haphazardly spilling onto the floor, half of it still draped over the cushions. A half full glass of wine sits on her coffee table along with a handful of foil covered chocolates. 

A smile itches to spread across his face. So this is how Emily Prentiss spends Valentines: bundled up in her apartment with her freakishly human named cat, crying over a romcom as she drinks wine and waits for her Chinese takeout.

“Hotch?”

His eyes snap back to hers. The menu is still in her hands, her brows raised. 

Allergies. Right. They’ve known each other for six years and he’s never mentioned any.

“No.” He clears his throat, “No allergies.”

“Good,” Emily hums. “Sit.”

He takes a hesitant seat on the part of the couch not littered with tissues. Silence falls between them as she takes out her phone and dials a number, putting it to her ear and turning on her heel. She walks out of the living room, the edges of her blanket flapping as she leaves him with the cat.

But even the cat doesn’t stay. It follows her dutifully, black tail curling in the air as it chases after her ankles with a cheerful tinkle of the bell at its collar.

Still perching stiffly on the edge of her couch, Aaron stares up at Julia Roberts and wonders how exactly did he get here. He can hear Emily’s voice floating in from the kitchen, distant and muffled through the walls. He doesn’t miss her long before she’s back again, the phone squished between her shoulder and her ear, a wine glass slotted between her fingers.

“—yeah, and could you bring it with the first order? Thanks.”

She hangs up and tosses the phone onto the couch, holding up the glass. “Can I offer you some?”

Aaron thinks of his car downstairs. The thought doesn’t last long, because she’s looking at him with irises as deep as the night he just came in from.

“Sure. Thanks.”

She fills his glass and tops off her own, then gathers the balled up tissues with a sheepish smile. A blush dusts her cheeks as she tosses them in the trash, hastily picks up the wilting blanket off the floor.

“Sergio’s fur got into your eyes?” He asks, fighting back the urge to smile when she wrinkles her nose. Every part of him wrings with affection. “Didn’t think rom coms would be your type.” Aaron says, surprised at the way his voice lilts teasingly.

“No?”

He shakes his head. 

“They can be cheesy, but sometimes you need a feel-good.” She gathers up the chocolates in her palm and offers them to him. 

He clears his throat and takes one. She sits down, the cushion next to him dipping as she rests her weight on it. He tries to relax his stiff muscles, make them sink back into the couch same as hers.

Again the silence reigns, and though he’s never hated being quiet with Emily, something itches under his skin—the need to hear her voice, get back used to it again. The real one, rich with her ever-colorful emotions; not the flat, toneless voice that haunted his dreams and memories, static through speakers playing videos of her he’d eventually dream of. 

“You hate Valentine’s, but you got Valentine’s chocolate.” He muses quietly, taking a hesitant bite. The overly sweet chocolate melts on his tongue; he stifles a wince.

“Quit profiling me, Hotch,” Emily mumbles as bites into one too, her words thick as she speaks around the chocolate. “You’ve been doing it since you got here.”

Aaron’s shoulders go stiff. He almost spits out the chocolate, shame puckering his cheeks like acid.

“But if you must know,” she says before he can blurt out a guilty apology, “an officer gave them to me before we left.”

The chocolate turns to ash in his mouth. Aaron turns to her, somehow unsurprised to see her eyes glittering with mirth. It takes some effort to swallow the tasteless sugar down his throat.

“An officer,” he says flatly. 

Emily nods, the corner of her mouth curling. “That kid, what was his—Jameson.” She snaps her fingers. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t say no. They have these big puppy eyes, y’know? He’s like Reid.”

The word kid makes him relax a fraction. He makes some noise or acknowledgement and crumples up the wrapper into a shiny ball.

They fall silent again.

It’s fine. A little awkward with the well, what do we do now?, but it’s fine. Her cat curls onto her thigh and she turns on the movie again, letting it play in the background as she takes a jab at him for still wearing a fully tailored suit ‘at this time’. 

It surprises a laugh out of him. Aaron dutifully sheds it and loosens his tie, dragging it further from his throat before popping his collar. Her eyes follow the movement, still webbed with red, and he comments on the culprit, not quite as harmless as it seems. 

Emily smiles wryly and divulges that it’s her second of the night—the first being When Harry Met Sally. Aaron smiles. He feels a familiar warmth in his chest, one that Haley used to spark. She loved romcoms, preferred staying in on a weekend to watch them with him, cuddled into his side, her occasional tears at love confessions soaking his shirt. They were a particular comfort when she was menstruating; countless times Aaron had found her—in her childhood bedroom, in the living room of the home they’d bought together—bawling her eyes out with a tub of ice cream held to her chest, blonde hair in a messy pony and blue eyes drowning in tears. He’d stifle a smile, kiss her damp eyelids and salty cheeks, and let her continue crying it out in his chest.

It’s a parallel he can’t ignore, so he lets go of his silence and tells Emily about it. The wistful smile on his face is mirrored in hers, the curves of their mouths tinged with hazy blues. 

It’s easy to sit with her—not that that was ever surprising, but it’s different in the intimacy of her own living room. They’re not quite held back by the shackles of professionalism. The air between them bends and softens and lessens as her voice fills the silence, her cat stretching between them and pressing a tentative paw against Aaron’s thigh.

They’re cross legged on the floor, boxes of takeaway littered between them, when Emily speaks up around a mouthful of noodles. 

“So, about your offer.”

Aaron stays quiet. His heart doesn’t.

“I’m no good at biking, and swimming’s a big no. Sorry Hotch, but you won’t find me washing chlorine out of my hair on a good day, let alone at the crack of dawn every morning.” The drawl of her voice suggests it’s a heinous crime. “But, uh, running I can help with. If you’d like me to.” She toys with her chopsticks, brown eyes swallowing him whole.

“I would.” He says quietly. “6:00 tomorrow?” 

Emily wrinkles her nose but accepts. “Yes, boss,” she says, then quickly steers the conversation before he can thank her. 

It’s hard, harder than he expected, to keep his attention from splitting. Half of him is here, with her, and the other half is already storing up details to replay in his memory, missing her before she’s even gone. The lock of hair brushing her collarbone, crimped with its natural curl, the looseness of her voice as it twists and curls like smoke, the easy slump of her shoulders beneath her large sweater. He tries to hold all of it in his hands, but it slips, because the glow of her presence demands his full attention.

He’s not even aware of the time until she mentions it, a surprised oh and a little laugh escaping her when she looks down at her phone. Aaron’s watch reads 11:23. He feels his brows pulling together, then feels them smooth over when Emily offers him the guest room. 

“There’s a water bed.” She tells him, sitting on her knees and leaning toward him with a tissue. Something is wiped from the corner of his mouth. His lips part in surprise, and the taste of her perfume dissolves on his tongue. “They’re really comfortable.”

He swallows his heartbeat. “Thank you.” Emily leans back, tosses the tissue, and he still can’t breathe. “I appreciate it, but I can’t.”

“Next time.” She hums decidedly.

They’re both a little unsteady as they rise to their feet, a pink blush on Emily’s cheeks and—considering the fire raging under his skin—on his, too. His head is ducked as he picks up their plates and boxes, ignoring her warm protests on the shell of his ear. As he’s dropping the plates in the sink, the ridiculous urge to wash them comes over him. They’re just two, it wouldn’t hurt, but Emily is already pushing him away from it, taking takeout cartons from hand and dropping them carelessly on the counter.

Aaron collects his jacket from her couch, creased from draping over her cushions. He doesn’t shrug it on. He’s hot enough as it is.

“You should text me when you get home.” Emily says, hovering at his elbow as he grabs his coat.

He raises his brows, an easy laugh tumbling past his lips. “I should?”

“Yeah,” Emily nods. She chews down on her abnormally pink lip, “Wanna make sure you don’t crash into a pole or something.”

Affection warms his chest.

“I’m not drunk.” He says.

“No,” she agrees. “Which is why you’re driving in the first place. Text me or I’ll have Garcia check your location.”

“Threatening,” he says seriously. 

Emily smiles. He’s barely into his coat before she leans forward, her chest suddenly pressing into his, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Just do it this time,” she mumbles, low in his ear as she squeezes him. “Don’t let me worry for once.”

It’s usually him who’s worrying. But Aaron is too preoccupied with hugging her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing gently. Her breath warms the skin of his neck and he briefly closes his eyes, taking in the way they fit together, her forehead to his cheek. Something clicks into place. Sweet coconut travels down his windpipe and a twisted knot somewhere deep beneath his skin pulls itself loose.

“Okay.” He remembers to say, his voice hushed. Love you, he almost blurts. The hasty kiss to her forehead is the only way to stifle it. It’s a soft press to her hairline, barely there. Necessary. 

“You’re good company, Hotch,” she mumbles softly. She sways a little into him, still holding on. “Come over again, yeah?”

“Sure.” His palm rubs a circle over her back. “You’re good company, too.”

“So you can admit it.” She grins as she pulls back, icy cold taking her place in his chest. Dimples dig into her cheeks, closer to her smile than he’ll ever be.

Aaron lingers with his hand on the door. I love you. I love you, I love you, he thinks.

“I can.” He says. He’s slow as he undoes the two locks in the door. Some part of his brain works furiously, trying to find a way to stretch the moment, make it last, leave them lingering at the door like the chill that creeps in through the walls and makes itself at home on the pads of their fingers. Something to say, something to do. But there’s nothing save for his love.

“Good night.” He says softly, his voice almost drowned out by the creak in the door as he pulls it open.

“Good night.” Emily leans against the frame as he walks out, her lashes heavy with slow blinks. “Drive safe.” She intones.

Aaron nods. The door clicks behind him. Two locks. Still footsteps. He walks into the night, at once colder and warmer than he was when he walked out of it.

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

a run down would be appreciated😭😭 and i sure hope coffee at midnight is a happy fic bc that one i did start reading and its my current obsession, i wont be able to take it if something bad happens to my babies

I won't spoil Coffee at Midnight, but I'm glad you're loving it!!

My other fics, though, I'm going to try and put into categories.

The Multichaps

A Fine Line will take you through every emotion. It's smutty and angsty and stressful but it has a happy ending!

illicit affairs is an ongoing multi-chap that's nowhere near finished. emily and aaron sleep together before her first day on the job, when neither knows who the other is. the affair they begin has consequences for years to come.

touchy subject is complete and is an emotional journey. a teenage emily aborted aaron's baby without telling him, and deals with the consequences of that decision in the decades that come after.

impact married Hotchniss are in a car accident that leaves emily in a coma.

the price we pay. I'll start by telling you that Emily's dead. that's not a spoiler, i literally tell you in the comments. this fic sees JJ try to come to terms with her death and her unresolved feelings for Emily at the same time.

Nodus Tollens is annoyingly incomplete. A complicated fic based on the Arizona-Callie-Mark triangle n Greys.

The One-Shots

The Five Stages of Grief are a Myth is a journey, but it does have a happy ending!

phantasmogoria - emily struggles with the trauma of having spent seven months in isolation, with only her own mind for company. hotch is her lifeline.

found family is a cute little fic i wrote for the 'accidental baby acquisition' tag for criminal minds week 2023. the team find a baby.

built a home and watched it burn may or may not stay an angsty one-shot. it's the first chapter of an unfinished fic i took down a while ago, in which emily and aaron are getting divorced.

Eulogy is an angsty af one-shot of JJ and Hotch telling Emily about the Paris plan.

You'll Always Be My Person is angsty Jemily fluff that I woudn't say has a happy ending, but it's sweet and short.

Habits is a cute little Jemily drabble.

in love with you is Emily POV Jemily angst.

twelve things that didn't break aaron hotchner and the one that almost did is Hotch angst with a happy Hotchniss ending.

The States Game is a cutie team fic based on That Friends Episode.

The Smutty One-Shots

Heat is the only 'only one bed' fic i've ever written. it's just pure, unadulterated, shameless, steamy Hotchniss smut.

every lover's game is what happens after you send the girl you fancy in to flirt with a creepy guy called Viper. it's pure filth. it's great. probably my favourite filth i've written. you're welcome.

trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat is angsty Hotchniss smut. like I earned the angsty smut tag on this one.

when it rains, it pours - more angsty Hotchniss smut. back from Paris, emily is struggling. then comes a storm.

Coming Home is wholesome Jemily smut.

Stress Relief and Debriefing are just pure Emily/Luke smut.

Hotchner's Future Au (in chronological order)

technically these all have a happy ending because emily and hotch are married and trying to cope with parenting x

nature vs nurture after having her first child, emily struggles with her mother's first visit and her criticisms.

a good cat never goes far - proceed with caution if you love Sergio. that's all i'll say. but also read it because i'm proud of it <3

the last first day - emily struggles with her last baby starting school

good intentions, bad excecution - livvy hotchner is a menace, but she's also a great big sister.

red-handed the kids catch emily and aaron in a...compromising position. based on a request to write a hotchners future au fic inspired by the modern family episode 'caught in the act'

my mama's in the kitchen worrying about me - emily struggles with having a teenage daughter who's exactly like her.

Good Crazy - jack announces that he and his girlfriend are expecting. emily and aaron temporarily lose their minds, but what's new?

[cloudlessly-light]

Would you ever do a sexting type hotchniss smut? 👀

I think I have that request so yes! Just need to get some inspiration for it, but you can read these from my drabble fic

💛💛

[duchessas]

hi bby! i read abt ur writers block and also the anons and i’ve come bearing writers block gifts..as a writer and fan of ur blog, im prone to the dreadful slump :( however i hope u know that getting back to writing hotchniss or literally whatever fanfic, you do not have to immediately finish ur story. yes ! we are so in love with exposure and we know you have ideas but we also know it’s hard to put those to paper. i’ve found that writing small little drabbles or tiny notes in my phone help so much! they get you into the groove without forcing you to finish a whole full fledged chapter of a wip. this doesn’t also have to be for fanfics because i am trying to become a children’s book author and i know how much it sucks! and writing mini stories with a barely present plot or complicated characters just to get the brain juices flowing really helps! i recommend it seriously. <3!

Thank you sm - you’re honestly so lovely 🤍 the thing I’ve discovered recently is reading something REALLY GOOD gets my brain back on gear and I’ve also had to learn that it’s not going to be perfect the first time it gets written down - and that’s okay!!! It’s what editing is for! This is what I tell myself anyway lol

(I have written all of exposure in the notes on my phone lol help)

Also - WOW. I am sending you so much love and luck in your journey to becoming a children’s author! I am genuinely so in awe of that 🤍

[sequinsmile-x]

Love

A drabble about how much our two favourite idiots love each other. 

Words: 700

Warnings: None

It was starting to piss her off. He was practically perfect. For a man who had neglected his marriage to its breaking point, he was a wonderful boyfriend. He knew her in a way she always thought she would find suffocating, always able to predict what she needed sometimes before she knew herself. 

Emily found that increasingly he was what she needed. 

She misses him when they are apart. The few nights they didn’t spend together always dragged into an age. The hours limping by, any hopes of a deep sleep out of her grasp without him in bed with her, without the comforting presence of his arms around her, his warmth leaching into her skin. Emily would always go to work early after a night without him, knowing he would already be there. She’d walk into his office, a smile on her face and a coffee in hand for him. Aaron would kiss her, the empty bullpen letting him relax his own rules about PDA in the office. 

They were on the way back from a difficult case. It had ended with Emily having to shoot the unsub, leaving the team and the victims families without answers. Aaron boards the jet to find her sitting alone looking out of the window, the rest of the team giving her space. He sits next to her and slips his hand into hers without a word, linking their fingers together on her thigh. Emily turns her head from where she’d been looking out of the window and smiles softly at him, squeezing his hand in thanks.

“We should be home in time to grab dinner from that Chinese near yours.” He says softly, his thumb gently stroking her skin. 

Emily smiles, love for him blooming in her chest. “That sounds nice.” 

______________

They eat their Chinese food on her couch, snuggled together as they steal from each other's plates. He pours her a glass of her favourite wine without her asking for it, and he puts on a movie he knows she watches when she needs distracting. 

They hadn’t said it yet, hadn’t told each other that they loved each other despite it being obvious. She’d heard him say it, the words whispered into her skin as he drifted to sleep, already sure she was asleep herself. She thinks that they are trying to protect themselves, the pain of both of their pasts making them hesitant to verbalise it, to put what they both knew into words. 

Once they have finished their food he settles on the other end of the couch, her legs thrown across his lap. She watches him, his gaze on the tv as he presses his thumbs into the arch of her foot. Suddenly she's no longer able to keep it in, the words bursting from her before she can stop them.

“I love you.” She says and she feels his ministrations on her foot falter. He turns to look at her and she smiles. “I’m in love with you, Aaron.” She says, almost accusatory as she crosses her arms across her chest. “I love you in a really ridiculous ‘I thought this only existed in Christmas Hallmark movies’ kind of way.’” 

He can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face, he reaches out for her wine glass and places it on the coffee table. “You seem annoyed by that.” 

“It is annoying. And inconvenient.” 

Aaron laughs this time and reaches for her, she gladly moves towards him, a fake glare on her face as he presses a kiss to her cheek. 

“Well I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“It’s distracting.” She murmurs, kissing him properly, her hands finding his face. “I think about you all the time.” She runs her thumb over his cheekbone. “I think you’re too good for me.” 

His smile fades, his eyebrows furrowing. “No, sweetheart. Never. You’re perfect.” 

Emily rolls her eyes before she kisses him again, resting her forehead against his as she pulls away. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Em. So much.” He must sense her relief, the tension that seeps out of her body as he returns the sentiment. “I am in love with everything about you.”

[realtime-00]

This is such a damper on my spirits but has anyone noticed Thomas and Paget don’t follow each other on instagram? Like how devastating is that?

[reidsaurora]

"Wrapping Things Up" ~ A. Hotchner & E. Prentiss

GIF by @criminalmindsgonewrong

Summary: As the two pack for their engagement party getaway, Hotch jokingly asks Emily if she's sure she wants him to be the only person she has sex with. When she jokingly says no, he's determined to change her mind.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss

Word Count: 1,708

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (somewhat 18+ content), explicit language, almost smut, mentions of the female anatomy, lots of mentions of sex, lmk if i missed anything!

Genre: borderline Smut, mostly foreplay lol

Extra Notes: yeah ik this is bad shhhh

Based On the Prompt: "You know I hate the beach." - "But you don't hate seeing me in a bathing suit, do you?"

Originally Written: 06/29/2022

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞! 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞." - 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Hotch knew he should've known better than to allow Penelope to plan his and Emily's engagement party.

This fact became extremely apparent when he found out that she'd rented a beach house for the whole team in Cape Cod for a weekend.

Emily was rather happy, seeing as she'd always been a beach person. The smell of the water, the sound of the waves—not to mention how attractive she found Hotch with tanned skin and swimming trunks hanging loosely from his hips.

Hotch attempted to be happy, seeing as Emily being happy was the one thing he cared about most (besides Jack anyway).

Still, he complained on about the idea of laying out in the sand, surrounded by endless, annoying beach-goers.

"You know I hate the beach," he groaned from where he sat on the bed. His eyes followed Emily around the room as she continued to pack her suitcase.

She moved to stand between his legs, throwing her arms over his shoulders. One hand dangled behind him while the other played with the short hairs near his neck. "But you don't hate seeing me in a bathing suit, now, do you?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. Fuck, did she love the way his eyelashes fluttered. "You're not wrong," he smirked, his hands playing with the bottom of her flowy blouse. Oh, how easy it would've been for his hands to slither their way underneath it.

"Aaron," she scoffed, already knowing what he was getting at. "We've got a flight to catch, you know."

"How am I supposed to focus on a flight when I'm looking up at the sexiest woman to ever walk the earth?"

She blushed, as if this wasn't something he told her on a daily basis. "Hotch-" her breathed hitched as one of his hands glided under her shirt and across her stomach, while the index finger of his other hand hooked itself around one of her belt loops.

He leaned up, kissing along her jawline, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. She wanted to giggle as his nose tickled her ear, but the only thing she could focus on was the sudden feeling of fervor spreading throughout her body.

"Aaron, flight," she reminded him. Oh, what she wouldn't give to miss that flight.

"We've still got an hour before we have to leave. An hour and twenty minutes before we have to get to the airport."

She weighed out her options for a moment. He was right, they did have an hour before they had to leave. Fifteen minutes for the fun activities, ten minutes for a shower, ten minutes to fix her hair and makeup, fifteen minutes to finish packing, and ten minutes to load everything into the car.

"Come on," he practically begged, kissing her jaw again. "You need to make sure this is really the sex you wanna experience for the rest of your life," he kidded.

She laughed lightly as she moved to sit on his lap. "If you think I'm marrying you for the sex, you're dead wrong, Aaron Hotchner."

He chuckled. That damn chuckle. "Oh? And what exactly is it that you're marrying me for?"

She laughed, "Your paycheck."

He scoffed as he rolled them over, pinning her down to the bed. "Emily Hotchner-Prentiss, that is just cruel."

"You know what's cruel, Aaron Hotchner-Prentiss, is that you're gonna make me miss my flight."

"Mmm," he hummed, leaning in and kissing her long and hard. "Screw the flight," he mumbled against her lips. "Besides, I have to up my game since you apparently don't want to marry this sex."

"Oh, I never said that," she commented as she looked up at him.

She stared up at him for a moment, taking in those walnut-colored eyes. She took a moment to look over every feature—every crease on his forehead, every freckle on his cheek, every small fleck in his eyes.

Hotch's eyebrows furrowed as he took her in. "What?" he chuckled.

"Nothing," she answered with a content giggle, "Just thinking about how in a hundred days, those eyes will be the first and last thing I see every day for the rest of my life."

He chuckled again before giving her a kind smile. "Is it really that close?" he asked before giving her a short kiss, "Only a hundred days?"

She nodded, biting her lip as she attempted to hide her smile. "Yep, only a hundred more days of staying together only on weekends," she answered. "Just think, in a hundred days, we won't have to sneak into each other's rooms on cases. We can just stay in the same room together with no hassle."

"I don't know," he commented, kissing her neck lightly. "Sneaking around kinda makes me feel like a kid again."

"Aa-Aaron," she stuttered a little too loudly.

"See, that's another thing we need to practice on," he whispered, kissing her neck again. "Can't have you getting too loud with Jack around."

"Me? Get loud? Last I recalled, you were the one that Reid heard from across the hall."

He chuckled as he recalled the awkward conversation they'd had a few weeks prior.

☆☆☆

"Hey, are you guys OK?" Spencer asked as the three of them set up at the Dallas County police precinct.

"Yeah, why?" Emily chuckled.

"Well, last night at the hotel, I heard Hotch yell your name, like he was angry with you."

Emily's mouth scrunched as she held in a laugh, turning away from Spencer.

Hotch was quick to answer, "Yeah, we just had a little bit of a spat. We're fine."

☆☆☆

"Alright, new plan," he said slyly, moving downward. He kissed along her belly where her shirt had ridden up. "We get all our screams out ahead of time."

In an attempt to look away from him, she glared over at the clock on the bedside table. "You've already wasted four minutes."

"Shhh," he said, almost like he was warning her. "You can't rush perfection."

"At least you got that right. Your sex is damn near perfect," she nearly mumbled as she felt his fingers trace her hip bone.

"Near?" he inquired. "Well, Mrs. Hotchner-Prentiss, tell me what I can do to improve it?"

"Shut up and go faster," she answered breathily.

Aaron took this as a dare, practically snatching her slacks off and tossing them aside. "Yes, ma'am."

He kissed a trail of slow, soft, agonizing kisses from her belly-button to the hem of her underwear, leaving an extra long kiss there.

"F-five minutes," she struggled to warn him.

"Shhh," he told her, unhurriedly sliding the blue material down her legs, leaving them dangling around her ankles.

She watched as he reached for his belt buckle, but she beat him to it. She unbuckled it as quickly as possible before tossing it aside.

"Don't make me tie you down," he threatened, placing his hands back on her thighs.

"Aaron, please just-"

He cut Emily off by kissing her long and hard. She was tempted to knee him in the crotch for trying to distract her, but his tongue tasted so good that she suddenly didn't care.

It wasn't until his hand started to slide upward from her thigh that she realized why he was distracting her.

"Two can play at that game," she thought to herself.

She moved her hand from his hip to his waist, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

"Now, Em-"

"You started this," she said, her words rolling off her tongue almost as slow as his hands were moving.

His hand started moving again, hovering near the place she needed him most.

Her lip quivered as his hand got closer, and Hotch noticed almost immediately.

"You're so need-"

RING! RING! RING!

Hotch had never seen Emily's expression change so fast. He almost laughed when she complained, "OK, who the fuck is that?"

He glanced over at the table, noticing her phone screen lighting up. "It's for you," he chuckled.

She grabbed the phone, immediately recognizing the number. "Hey, Jaje," she answered, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Where are you?" JJ asked from the other side of the phone.

"At home packing," she replied, her eyebrow raising in confusion.

Hotch chuckled at her raised brow, but lightly teased her by leaving a kiss above it.

Emily pointed a finger in Aaron's face warningly. "Why?" she further inquired.

Hotch crouched down in front of her, kissing his way up her thigh.

"The flight's leaving in a half hour," JJ told her.

"Shit," Emily exclaimed, though she wasn't quite sure if it was in response to JJ's statement or the fact that Hotch had finished his trail of kisses by leaving a long kiss on one of her lower lips.

Her eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets, in both arousal and annoyance.

"What's wrong?" Hotch whispered almost inaudibly before leaving another kiss in the exact same spot as before.

Emily held a finger up to tell Hotch to slow down. "OK, JJ. Let me finish wrapping things up here and we'll be there as soon as we can."

This time, Hotch's eyes nearly rolled out of the sockets. "You can't be serious," Emily heard him mumble.

"Don't you mean 'rounding things up'?" JJ asked. Emily could almost picture the puzzled look on her face.

Her face lit up red in embarrassment. "Yeah, I thought that's what I said."

"No, you said 'wrapping'," she reminded her.

"Well, you knew what I meant," Emily said awkwardly. "We'll be there as soon as we can," she rushed.

"OK, see you guys then," JJ smiled as she hung up.

Hotch's expression was one of suspense. "What did she say?"

"Apparently we got the flight time wrong. It leaves in a half hour," Emily answered, pulling her underwear back up.

The two quickly hurried from their positions, rushing around the room to gather the last of their essentials.

After about five minutes, just as he folded the last of his clothes, Aaron turned to Emily with a smirk tugging at his lips.

"What?" she asked, somewhere between laughingly and curiously.

"How big do you think the rental house is gonna be?" he inquired with furrowed brows.

"Why?"

Almost daringly, he answered, "Because we never finished wrapping things up."

"𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞��𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐬." - 𝐌𝐚𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Welcome one and all to my second entry for @foxy-eva's milestone challenge!! Yes, I'm entering twice because there's no way I couldn't enter a Hotchniss imagine with that prompt on the list!!

As I say every time I write something ~edgy~, I also was not expecting this?? I never can tell if my spicy imagines are good or not so 🙈

Anyway, regardless of how embarrassed I am to post this, I hope you guys enjoyed it! Even if I do hate it, I still had a really fun time writing it!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

↳ Request an imagine here!

↳ Join my taglist here!

↳ Get to know me here!

↳ TAGLIST: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @gal-obsessed-with-marvel @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @criminalmindsandmarvel

☆𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒☆

[pagetherapy]

When you try to go to sleep, but...

Hotchniss Smut Trash is writing itself in your head...

I do not consider myself a writer AT ALL, but this is what I've got so far. Lemme know if you want more...cuz there is more brewing in my brain.

... He always appreciated the care with which she took to dress herself. The fit was perfect - skimming her skin with the slightest breath between the silken fabric and her waist. Her heels were higher quite elevated, giving her shapely legs even more length, making it hard for him to keep his eyes off her ass. Hotch felt his cheeks flush gently as he imagined what, if anything, was helping to cradle the vibrator inside of her. He slipped his hand into his pocket and thumbed the remote - with her back turned, she wouldn't see it coming. His eyes glazed over briefly as he found himself lost in the little curl of hair brushing her neck.

[em-prentiss]

I try to capture every minute (the feeling in it)

----

Something in her voice catches Jane’s attention. Their eyes clash, identical shades of brown, and Emily smiles as she wipes under Jane’s nose. “Of course, the belt is the most recognizable part of the constellation. It’s one of the most well known ones—there, see?” She points up to the tilting trail of stars.

Jane’s eyes quietly follow her finger.

Word count: 1.7k

----

Emily’s heels sink into the soft grass, dipping into the earth as she walks further away from the patio, rocking a fussy Jane. 

“Shhh,” she whispers, shifting her into the crook of her arm, wiping hot tears from her cheeks. Already fed and dressed in a soft onesie dotted with tiny porcupines, she’s an inch away from sleep and struggling to get there. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. Those people sure are noisy, huh? They’re so inconsiderate.” Emily coos, Jane’s cries easing as she takes them further into Rossi’s backyard, letting the quiet envelop them. 

Laughter and warm conversation start to fade. Wrapped in static, everything else falls away; it’s just Emily and her little girl, trekking away under the watchful glow of the moon.

Jane’s breaths fan hot across Emily’s collarbone as she digs a little fist into her eye. She whimpers quietly and Emily hums, weaving her way through trees and underbrush. “I know, honey, you’re so tired. You’ve had an exciting day.”

She and Aaron were tangled together on the couch, her head on his thigh, his hand in her hair, a book half folded into the cushions and the sound of Jack’s video game echoing around the living room, when Jane had stood up from her perch on the floor and taken a hesitant step. The moment almost passed quietly before it was caught by Aaron’s eyes, his fingers stilling in Emily’s hair. Jane had always been a quiet baby, almost shy; even in the midst of her family’s loud excitement, she’d buried her smile into Jack’s arms when he caught her, cheeks tinted rosy, silently pleased with herself.

Walking around with her older brother hovering just beside her, then babbling with Garcia and picking at the textures on her clothes and strung around her wrists, she’d exhausted herself. Emily saw her eyes droop, feeling it herself when the cacophony of noise started to grate on her daughter’s tender ears.

She notices now, as she wades further into the lush garden, how dark the sky is. The glow of fairy lights on the patio fades at her back and is replaced by the faint twinkle of stars above, spread across thick velvet blackness. They’re slightly clearer than they are in the heart of the city; more of them wink down at her the longer she looks, letting her eyes adjust, catching faint blurs that sharpen to pinpricks.

When they’ve strayed far away enough, Emily stops and leans against a tree, rocking a rapidly quieting Jane. She smiles when she sees her daughter’s head is tilted up, pillowed against her arm, her eyes tracking up to the sky.

Emily kisses her hair. “Aren’t the stars so pretty, Janie? They’d be brighter if we got out of the city.” She rubs her daughter’s tacky cheek, catching the last edge of tears along her eyelashes, “But nowhere like France. They shine so bright there,” she whispers, “up in the mountains. I used to sit for hours and watch them, and Grandpère would tell me all about the constellations. Like…” her eyes search the sky, automatically snagging on the most recognizable string of stars.

“Like Orion.” Something in her voice catches Jane’s attention. Their eyes clash, identical shades of brown, and Emily smiles as she wipes under Jane’s nose. “Of course, the belt is the most recognizable part of the constellation. It’s one of the most well known ones—there, see?” She points up to the tilting trail of stars.

Jane’s eyes quietly follow her finger. She babbles something Emily doesn’t understand, her voice drenched in the sticky tone she’s grown to recognize. Her still-damp lashes similarly cling together, separating with more force with blink. 

Emily glows on the inside. She shifts Jane up higher against her chest, arms firmly wrapped around the small length of her that’s become her whole world. Tiny fingers, tiny toes, identical nose; she is Emily’s heart in powder-soft onesies and feet that have only just learned how to take a step.

“Orion’s the hunter.” She murmurs, watching Jane’s eyes droop. A sweet summer breeze ruffles her hair and Emily sweeps it back, her fingers sinking into soft baby curls. “He was a son of Poseidon, the god of the sea. Now Orion was very strong and powerful, and he vowed that he would…” her tongue stills on the word kill, the word seeming too grim for her sweet 11-month-old. Jane is on the precipice of talking, her babbles shaping into more recognizable sounds, so Emily decides to steer clear. “He would slay every animal on earth to prove how good of a hunter he was. Ambitious, isn’t it?” She lays a kiss on the side of Jane’s head, gently stroking circles above her pajamas. Her eyes have already fluttered closed, but Emily continues on with the story anyway, her voice even and whispered in her daughter’s ear.

Aaron always said she has an easier time putting Jane down—and he always said it’s something to do with her voice, his lips reverently pressed to her throat, trailing appreciation down the curve of her neck. Emily knows he’s right, in a way, and not just concerning Jane; once she threads her fingers through any of their hair and goes off on a murmured tangent about whatever, it’s almost a certain she’ll have a Hotchner dozing in her lap before she’s halfway through her ramble.

It’s not long before Jane is fully asleep. Emily is sitting cross-legged at the base of the tree when Aaron comes to find them, her heels on the grass and her thumb tracing circles on the back of a soft dimpled hand.

“She asleep?” He whispers, silently sitting down next to them. The creak of his knee is folded into the quiet.

“Mhm,” Emily hums. “She just needed the quiet.” Like her dad, she thinks, tracing the draw of Jane’s brows with her eyes, still awed at how much of Aaron is in her.

His chest presses warm against her arm. Searching fingers wrap around her elbow, a thumb roving over her skin as Aaron kisses the joint of her shoulder. “She’s had an exciting day.”

“That’s what I said.” Emily grins. But it slips before long, her finger stumbling across Jane’s hand. “God, she’s growing up, how is she growing up already?”

Aaron shrugs, his low exhale warming her skin. His own finger traces over Jane’s knee, a touch so featherlight it doesn’t even dent the cotton of her pajamas.

“It’s what kids do.” He murmurs, the honey-thick of his affection visible even though his eyes are turned down to their baby sprawled on her lap. It’s still enough to make her freeze in place sometimes, even after years of being well acquainted with his way of loving. “But lucky for us, she is still a baby.” A wrinkle smoothed out with his thumb. “Even if she is turning one soon.”

The thought twists her stomach. July is hurtling towards them, and Emily wants to stave it off, though Jane’s limbs are still cushioned with baby fat, her cheeks still rounded and her hands still chubby. Hell, she only took her first steps today and Emily is already close to tears.

“I’m not ready.” She murmurs, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“We never think we are,” Aaron says, so gently, and she’s all at once reminded that he’s done this before. “We tend to sell ourselves short.”

Emily closes her eyes, feeling the vibration of his voice under her ear. The wind plays with her hair and Rossi’s living room is a million miles away. They’re on an island now; surrounded by stars and her preemptive grief and the love that threatens to overwhelm her at any second. 

Emily never thought she’d be able to feel so much. Not after the numb and the cold of the floor in Boston, not after countless pointless relationships and the overwhelming, glittering shards of her own life littered at her feet. 

But somehow, she managed to piece herself together—into something not just surviving, but living. Her days are colored with pride, echoing with the remnants of unrestrained, jubilant laughter. They’re sometimes dulled by a sadness that hides behind her ribs and slinks out when she least expects it, bleeding into the joy of watching her children grow, the still lingering disbelief that she gets to have this. She’s a whirlwind of emotion every day, and thick as they may be on her tongue she wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Emily inhales the scent of grass, Aaron’s cologne, the still night around them. Her finger toys with a crease on the side of his knee, the material of his slacks curving inward into a seam.

“You know, I’m…I’m just so happy we were here for this milestone.” Both of them. “There’s so many that I…”

“That you prepared to miss.”

Yeah. She couldn’t fool herself, not when it comes to this.

Aaron traps her roving finger into his palm. His calloused fingertips gently scrape the inside of her wrist, turning it until their palms meet. Emily does the rest, slotting her fingers in, completing the puzzle piece as a kiss nestles in her hair.

“Sometimes we get it right. Sometimes we’re just lucky, and everything happens on a Sunday.” A perfectly ordinary, bordering on boring Sunday. As Jane twitches against Emily’s chest, she smiles; ever since Aaron, Sundays were inarguably her favorite day of the week. “Our luck hasn’t run out yet.” He murmurs.

Emily counts her daughter’s lashes. “No,” she says. “Not yet.”

The knot loosens in her chest when he kisses her softly, his smile against her lips. “You told her about the stars.” He says; it’s not a question.

Emily’s cheeks heat. She lifts a shoulder, lips pressing down against a smile. “They were there.” She says. “I didn’t have to think of a story on a whim.”

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs, lightly tracing the column of her throat. “You just need to talk.”

She wrinkles her nose. “You’re making me sound like Hypnos.”

“Godlike?”

“Mythological.”

His laugh presses warm against her shoulder. Jane’s breathing skips over her chest, Jack’s voice travels from the patio, and Emily knows, at least for now, she has just a little more time.

[ssahotchdad]

THE THINGS WE DO ...

                        while kissing.

     also known as a 6 drabbles portraying kisses between aaron and emily.

happy valentine’s everyone!

word count: 5.9k

read on archive of our own – or below the cut!

HAIR.

They would always encounter rough cases, the kind of cases that etched into their brains and memory, refusing to let them sleep as the team lay scattered, alone in dark hotel rooms somewhere, far away from the comfort of their own beds, their own homes. While most of the time preferred to sleep, the team’s unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, found himself pacing the floor of his hotel room. The bed was untouched, the only change from when he had stepped into the room a couple of hours earlier, being the jacket of his suit, which was tossed onto the covers. The desk by the window, dimly lit by the moonlight, was covered in paper–work, photos of the victims scattered. 

It bugged him. It bugged him that he should have solved this by now, he should have seen his team take down an unsub and promise the people of the small town that they were safe. Instead, he was pacing the floor of his hotel room, the teens of the town barely getting any sleep that night themselves as they feared the unsub stalking the streets outside.

A few doors down from Aaron’s hotel room, Emily found herself tossing and turning. The curtains were shut, the only light in the room being the small, dimmed rays sneaking under the door of the bathroom. However it seemed to be too light for her to sleep. Sighing, she got out of the bed, hovering near her phone. It was tempting to pick it up and call down the hall to Aaron, maybe to see if hearing his voice would help her calm down, soothing her brain into a slumber. If they were to solve the case the following day, she needed to sleep – but a part of her knew the unit chief was struggling to sleep too. He rarely did when they worked cases like this. Whenever they crossed state–borders to work cases, she would share a responsibility with David Rossi; the two would take turns handing the unit chief bottles of water, cups of coffee, and force him to eat when the rest of them took breaks. Emily would slip him an ibuprofen when she noticed him furiously rubbing his temples, or squinting at the case–file in front of him; it was his tell for a headache. She would shoot him smiles from across the room, or bullpen, and she would run her hand against his as they walked past each other, just letting him know she was there.

Being in a semi–secretive relationship, had its ups and downs. The ups included the team knowing; they no longer needed to hide around the people they considered their family, even though they were not exactly known for public displays of affection. The downs included having to stay professional during work, something that happened to be incredibly difficult when they time and time again would see their partner risking their lives to take down a notorious killer. However, they made it work – as well as they could, however, sleeping in different rooms over a series of nights, when all they wanted to do was to be wrapped in each other’s arms, distracting one another from the horrors of the world.

Aaron’s pacing stopped as he heard a knock on his door, the unit chief tossing a hesitant look in the direction of the paper–work on the desk. If it happened to be David on the other side of the door, he knew the older man would scold him for not going to sleep. If it was Emily … well, she too would scold Aaron for not sleeping, but he’d much rather hear it from her. He didn’t quite find himself in control of his own body as he closed the distance between his original location and the door to his room, though felt a sense of relief when he opened the door to stare right into Emily’s eyes. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” He mused, receiving a roll of the eyes in response from his fellow agent.

“Having you so close, yet so far away does that to me, Hotchner.” Emily chuckled, lifting her hands to free his neck of the already loosened tie, though keeping her hands on his neck, thumb stroking gently against his neck; the very same spot she loved to bury her face when they snuggled close to sleep. “You’re no good to anyone if you don’t sleep, you know that.”

He sighed, nodding a little. “I know, but this case, it just … it bugs me, Em.” Aaron tilted his head a little, her hand slipping up to his face, gently caressing his jaw. 

“It bugs us all, Aaron, but that doesn’t mean you have a reason to not sleep.” Emily countered, her brows furrowing slightly, something that caused the corners of his lips to turn upwards. She was half expecting him to respond with something stupid, something that deadpan humor of his would find hilarious, but instead he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, just the same way he had done about a million times before. The tension was leaving his body, a wave of relief settling in on him as he finally got to make up for having gone another day with not touching her; not being able to hold her hands, mumble words of reassurement into her hair, not being able to kiss her temple, or pull her close by the waist. 

In return, Emily found herself with a hand in his hair, the very same hand that had been on his jaw just seconds ago. She knew it was just how he loved it, the tips of her fingers gently massaging his scalp, gently running her hand through his hair. Their perfect little routine, perfected over a long time, hiding behind the closed blinds and door of Aaron’s office, behind the closed door of a hotel room somewhere late at night, or somewhere around their shared apartment – the moment they stepped through the door, or while waiting for dinner to be ready. A perfect little routine that no one would ever be able to change.

–––––––––––––––––

WAIST. 

The leather creaked underneath Aaron’s weight as he leaned back, gaze flickering to the window on his right as he watched the leaves on the trees move in the slight breeze. He had been taking the day off, working from home as he tended to Jack’s flu. The young boy had woken up with a forehead burning up with a fever. Emily had offered to stay too, Aaron knowing it had been because she didn’t want to leave his warm embrace as the alarm–clock woke them up. He had managed to convince her it was best for her to go; as Strauss still didn’t know of their relationship, he feared them both taking a day off would raise suspicion. He had been lucky enough to sort through quite a bit of paper–work, files he hadn’t been able to work through as they had gotten a new case tossed their way before he had been able to finalise the reports from the case before.

Jack was sound asleep in the room right next to Aaron’s home office, carefully tucked underneath the covers of his bed. On the bedside table stood a water bottle, Jack’s favourite bottle, with a cartoon of Spider–Man swinging in a web on it. The nightlight was dim, but lit, casting shadows across the young boy’s tired, though peaceful face, light snores escaping him. Aaron knew he didn’t have to, but at least once every fifteen minutes, he found himself checking in on his son, either by poking his head through the opening of the door, or by crouching next to the bed, carefully feeling the temperature of his son’s forehead.

Then, he would return to his home office, burying himself in the case–files depicting how ruthless killers had taken the lives of their victims, people carefully chosen because they fit their modus operandi. His attention was diverted when he heard the jingle of keys as the front door of the apartment was opened and shut close, Emily’s gentle humming filling the halls. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound; he felt lucky to be able to experience it, spending his days with his two favorite people in the whole world. 

“Well, hello there, Agent Hotchner.” Emily smirked as she leaned against the doorway to his office. Their office, really, though Aaron was the one who had used it the most over their time of living together. She chuckled as she watched a stupid smile spread on Aaron’s lips, the same stupid smile he knew she loved seeing him flash at her – the same kind of stupid smile that flashed his dimples in all their glory. “Sucked not seeing you around the bullpen today. The day isn’t as exciting when I can’t sneak glances at you through the windows of your office, you know.” She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest, faking a pout for attention, attention she was well aware Aaron would give her.

Aaron chuckled a little. “Well, if it helps, I’ve finished more or less all of my paperwork, which means I can sneak glances at you too.” He pointed out, tilting his head slightly. She rolled her eyes at him, moving over to his desk. While her plan was to sit at the edge of his desk, he stopped her, hands at her waist as he pulled her close. She sank onto his lap as their lips met, a slight chuckle escaping her lips. Aaron’s hands remained at her waist, fingers slipping underneath the hem of her shirt, his calloused fingertips against the soft skin of her hips. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Emily hummed, leaning against him as her lips trailed from his, and up to his temple. They sat like that for a couple of minutes, just the two of them, his hands at her waist, one of her hands playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck, when a tired Jack appeared in the doorway, teddy–bear in one hand as he rubbed his eyes tiredly with the other. “Hi, Jack–Attack! How are you feeling?” Emily cooed, her hands leaving Aaron as she opened her embrace for Jack to join them, pulling the young boy onto his father’s lap. 

“My throat hurts.” He pouted, nearly crashing against Aaron’s chest, a sad expression spreading on his face. “Can we watch a movie?”

Aaron chuckled, wrapping an arm protectively around his son. “Of course we can, buddy.” The older Hotchner pressed a kiss to Jack’s forehead, his skin still warm to touch, before pressing a kiss against Emily’s cheek. “Come on, I’ve got some mac ‘n cheese we can heat up, and then we’ll just bring our comforters out and have a night on the couch – how does that sound?” He raised an eyebrow, noticing the brighter and happier look that spread on Jack’s face, before glancing up at Emily, who responded with a nod.

That was how they spent the night, Emily half–asleep as she was leaning against Aaron, his hand on her waist, Jack draped across their laps, his head on Aaron’s chest as the young boy was sound asleep. One of the many Ice Age–movies was playing on the screen, though he wasn’t paying attention. Instead he found himself smiling at himself, not managing to believe how incredibly lucky he was. And then, he too found himself retreating into a peaceful slumber, grateful to stay in the moment with the people he loved.

–––––––––––––––––

GRAB. 

Some precincts were worse to be in than others. While Emily absolutely loved spending days working cases in precincts where women worked around the bullpen, both in and out of uniform, being just as natural a part of the precinct as the men. However, she also hated it. Being professional while working meant no ways of telling all the women of the precinct he was already in a devoted relationship with her. She found herself rolling her eyes at David, the older man snickering as he noticed the tense expression on her face. “If you tell him, he might be able to discreetly, but very directly tell the women to just drop it.” The Italian offered, leaning back in his chair, a coffee–cup in his hand as he looked at her. “Of course, he won’t be able to do that without you telling him how you feel about the whole situation.”

She considered his words for a second, before shaking her head a little. “It’s just a ridiculous feeling. He would never do anything, he is far kind of a man to do anything without having ended whatever it is he and I have going on first.”

“Whatever it is you two have going on.” David snorted, rolling his eyes. “It fascinates me how you can say that, as if you don’t know he would rip his heart out of his chest and hand it to you if he could.” 

Emily was about to respond, when Aaron entered the office they had been given permission to work out of for the case, her focus leaving David and his statements. “Let’s head back to the hotel for the night. We won’t be able to do anything further until the morning, so it’s best we get some rest.” He spoke up, sending his familiar Hotch–glare around the room, making eye–contact with the three agents he had there. JJ and Derek had already left the precinct, having been sent out a couple of hours earlier to talk to potential witnesses, though it had turned out to be a dead end. David was quick to text them, and tell them it was no point for them to return to the precinct, before he got up, packing his things together.

“I’ll see the two of you in the morning, then.” The Italian nodded, motioning for Spencer to join him, saying something about the two of them going to visit the town’s library for a round or two of chess. 

Aaron turned to look at Emily as they were the only two left in the room, his expression softening, the way it always did around her. “I was thinking I’d either swing by the McDonald’s down the street, or order some room–service. Would you like to join?” He raised an eyebrow, hands deep in the pockets of his pants as he patiently waited for her response.

“I’d like that.” She smiled, nodding as she shrugged her jacket on. “However, I’d prefer it if we could skip McDonald’s.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Aaron stifled a chuckle, walking right beside her as they exited the precinct. Emily could feel how the female detectives and officers looked at them as they exited, not even paying attention to her – she knew their focus was all on Aaron. Quite frankly, she couldn’t blame them. After all, who could? Yet a part of her felt, well, slightly jealous. She knew David had a point, Aaron only had eyes for her, but being in their situation had everything being weird. Little did she know, he felt the exact same way when he would see male detectives and officers, and even fellow FBI–agents fawning over her.

Not more than a couple of hours later, they were under the covers of the bed in his hotel room, his arms tightly around her waist, her face buried in his chest. “Aaron?” She spoke up, feeling the curious hum rumble in his chest, signalling she had his attention. “Do you ever, just … do you–,”

“Is this about the flirting from the female detectives earlier today?” He cut her off, his voice tired. Emily pushed gently on his torso, tilting her head backwards to look at him. “I noticed you didn’t like it. I’m also positive you didn’t notice how I told them I wasn’t interested. However, I’m sure there’s a whole other way we could make our statement, though it wouldn’t be as professional as we would like to be – and God knows Dave wouldn’t let us hear the end of it.” 

Emily couldn’t help but smile at his words, pulling herself into his chest again, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “You’re right – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doubting you, or our relationship–,”

“Don’t worry, Em.” Aaron hummed, pressing a kiss against her hair. “Let’s get some sleep, alright?”

The next morning, as they stepped into the precinct, all reassurance from the night before disappeared, vanished out the window. Emily found herself almost feeling guilty for doubting Aaron. Screw almost – she did feel guilty for doubting Aaron. He had, not once, given her a reason to doubt their relationship, yet here they were. Sighing, she leaned against the counter by the coffee–machine, David standing right beside her. Once again, the Italian chuckled. “I think you still have a way to go with your communication.”

“We communicate very well, thank you.” Emily rolled her eyes, sipping her coffee, though her gaze didn’t leave Aaron.

He could feel it, the way her eyes were glued to him. Quite frankly, he didn’t mind. He hoped the others noticed, and that they would take a hint. Chances were they wouldn’t, but that didn’t stop him from hoping. Their day passed slowly, almost too slowly, until they reached a breakthrough in the case. By the end of the day, four days after having arrived at the precinct in the first place, they had taken down the unsub, and were now gathering the last of their paperwork before going home. God, how they looked forward to going home. 

Just since their takedown, which had been led by Aaron – smartly clad in his bulletproof vest, which hugged his torso in all the right ways – he had been asked out to coffee by at least three of the women working in the precinct, kindly turning them down, though he wasn’t sure they were buying the fact that he did have a girlfriend. Emily seemed to have given up, not bothering to pay attention to the precinct around them anymore. Aaron had noticed how she had spoken to David, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat worried about the advice given to her by the Italian casanova (he liked to call himself that, at least – which Aaron found fitting, as the man had been married multiple times).

However, he hadn’t expected her to act out on impulse. Not in a bad way – far from it, seen from a relationship stand–point. Professionally? Well, Strauss might be in for a worried message from the precinct they were working at, but Aaron didn’t mind. She surprised herself too, as she crossed the bullpen, grabbing him by the hem of his jacket. Truth was, Emily didn’t come to realize what she was doing until her lips met his, his hands finding their way to her hips. “I get your point, Agent Prentiss.” Aaron murmured against her lips, a smile spreading on his lips as they parted. “How about we just get home, and continue?”

–––––––––––––––––

BRUSH.

Aaron knew something wasn’t right when he woke up at three in the morning, the bed being empty next to him. If there was something he could always be sure of, it was how Emily Prentiss valued her sleep. From the moment they pulled the covers over their bodies, she would be out like a light, her head pressed against Aaron’s chest, their legs tangled together, and his arms around her waist. So, to wake with the spot beside him – or partially on top of him – empty, meant something was up. First, he checked in on Jack, the young Hotchner–boy sprawled in his bed, only partially underneath his covers. Aaron tucked him in again, placing a soft kiss on the boy’s head, before leaving the room. 

It was a low groan from the bathroom that gave away Emily’s location. She wasn’t really expecting him to knock on the door, and join her on the bathroom floor – he had, after all, been in a deep slumber as she had untangled herself from him.

“Hey sweetheart.” Aaron mumbled, noticing how she was doubled over, even after he had taken her in his arms, holding her close to him. “Are you okay?”

The grimace on her face spoke more than a thousand words could ever do, though she accompanied it by a shake of the head. “Period cramps.” Emily stuttered, burying her face in the shirt covering his chest as another wave of cramps hit her. Aaron placed a hand on her lower back, rubbing gentle circles, holding her as tight as she wanted. He had only a little experience with period cramps from before; Haley had gone through them to a certain extent, and he remembered how she had instructed him of a heating–pad and a warm bath. “It’s okay, Aaron, you can go back to sleep–,”

“In no way.” Aaron shook his head, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Have you taken some ibuprofen?” 

She nodded, tilting her head back to look at him, noticing the hint of concern in his eyes as he waited for her response. “I did, it just hasn’t kicked in yet.” Emily sighed, feeling waves of tiredness in between her cramps. It was the middle of the night, a time she valued to sleep, and she knew he did too, having noticed how much better he slept when he could spend the night holding her in his arms. Again, she leaned her head against his chest. The cramps were getting better, slowly, and she wasn’t sure if it was her body caving to how tired she truly was, if it was the ibuprofen kicking in, or if maybe her cramps were about to be finished for this time around. 

Aaron noticed how she almost fell asleep in her arms, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against her forehead. “I’ll take you back to the bed, and then get you some things, yeah?” He mumbled against her skin, and in a careful manoeuvre, he got up, carefully picking her up to, a slight groan escaping her lips. Just minutes later, he had placed her in the comfort of their bed, and also made his return to the bedroom — in his hands was a cup of tea and a heating pad. “Let’s get you settled, shall we?”

Though the tea remained fairly untouched on the table beside her bedside, Emily appreciated the gesture. She snuggled close to him as she settled with the heating pad against her lower back, the ibuprofen making the waves of cramps less frequent and weaker, and once again she trailed off to sleep, being grateful for the man whose arms held her, his lips gently pressed against the top of her head being the last thing she remembered before falling asleep. The following morning, she woke to the feeling of Aaron’s hand moving up and down her back, his touch almost featherlike. In his other hand was a book, his focus on the words written neatly across the off–white paper. 

“Good morning.” He hummed, glancing down at her, a smile tugging on his lips as he felt her stir, scooting closer to him. “Did you sleep well?”

“I have, thank you.” Emily smiled, tilting her head back to look at him. It was a rare thing, being able to sleep in, even during the weekends. “What’s the time?”

“Half past ten.” Aaron chuckled, putting down his book as he reached across to his bedside table, getting her the cup of coffee he had brought only minutes before she woke. “Jessica stopped by about an hour ago, picking up Jack for their day together. He was super excited for a day at the zoo. So, now I’m hoping we’ll be able to avoid anything that has to do with any cases, and we can just stay like this until Jack comes home later.” 

“That sounds nice.” She chuckled a little, sitting up next to him as she gratefully accepted the cup of coffee; made just the way she liked it. “Thank you for helping me out, you know. I didn’t really intend for you to wake up, but I’m happy you did.”

Aaron shrugged a little, the smile still playing on his lips. “Of course. I sleep best with you by my side, and I hate seeing you in pain, so it was an easy decision.” He turned his head to look at her, even appreciating the slight roll of her eyes that she sent him. Aaron lifted his hand, brushing a strand of hair from her face before leaning forward, softly connecting their lips. “I love you, you know that right?”

–––––––––––––––––

CUP. 

“He’s an idiot.” Emily scowled, pacing the floor of the emergency room. David and Derek were both standing by the nurse’s station, the older man working out the paper–work needed. JJ and Spencer were seated, the latter with a bag of ice pressed against his forehead. “Look, I know he took that blow for you, Reid, but really? There’s better ways of standing up to your friends than being pistol whipped.” She sighed, stopping as Derek approached her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“You’ve got to stop pacing. He’s fine.” Derek reassured, his voice soothing as he pulled her in for a hug. “He’s got a light concussion, as well as a nasty gash above his eyebrow, which they’re stitching up right now. Other than that, Hotch is all fine, and he should be ready to go home in an hour.” 

They had been working a case in Los Angeles, and getting tired of being cooped up in the precinct, Aaron had decided he wanted to bring Spencer with him to work a lead. Fast forward four hours, and the team sat in the emergency room, patiently waiting for the nurses to say he was all cleared to leave. Emily hadn’t thought much about how he left the precinct, Spencer trailing behind him; the unit chief often made the choice to leave and see the scenes himself, speak to people, and be involved in the action. He was a little more hesitant about it after the death of Haley, not wishing to leave his son without both his parents, but Aaron had never hesitated to do his job, something the whole team respected. 

Even when he found himself getting pistol whipped.

“Agent Prentiss?” A nurse spoke up, reading from a paper on her clipboard. “Agent Hotchner has requested to see you. He is doing very well, the cut above his eye has been stitched. Keep the bandage clean, and at any suspicion of an infection or irritation, do not hesitate to seek a medical opinion. Agent Rossi, being Agent Hotchner’s emergency contacts, has worked out the paper–work, so he should be allowed to leave as soon as the papers have been overlooked by the on–call doctor.” She informed the agent as the two of them walked down the hall, the nurse opening the door to Aaron’s room.

“Thank you.” Emily nodded, a sigh escaping her lips as she stepped into the room. He immediately looked in her direction, a sheepish smile spreading on his lips. There were drops of blood on his otherwise white shirt, the stained, red spots being a grim contrast – even though it wasn’t blood in a severe amount, or even a severe injury. “Didn’t we agree to not getting any stupid injures?” She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Come on, Emily.” Aaron shrugged a little. “I can handle a little cut. Besides, chances are Morgan or Garcia would have me six feet under if it was Reid who sat here right now, with stained blood on his shirt and a cut above his eyebrow. The slight knock he got to the head as I pushed him out of the way is better.” 

Emily wanted to argue with him, but she knew he was right. She knew both Derek and Penelope would hate it to see Spencer get injured. She, and David, on the other hand, took a strong dislike to seeing the unit chief injured. “The unsub was caught, by the way. JJ and Rossi were out, paying a visit to the first victim’s family again.”

“It was the brother?” Aaron raised an eyebrow, adjusting his tie as he moved off the bed, seated on the edge of it as he reached out for his jacket, noticing how Emily nodded in response. “I had a gut feeling.”

“Maybe your gut feeling shouldn’t be so incredibly vague all the time.” Emily scoffed, taking another few steps towards him, her hand on his shoulder. “You’re an idiot, you know that right?”

Aaron chuckled, licking his lips a little. “How many times did you say that to the rest of the team out in the waiting room?” He questioned, tilting his head back to look at her, not even seeming to notice how her hands came up to cup his face, the skin of her palms soft against his face. “Just because you say it half a million times, it doesn’t mean it’s true. I’m going to need some convincing, at least.” 

This wasn’t a usual amount of flirting, or even a usual amount of public PDA for the unit chief, something Emily found herself blaming on the painkillers he had taken for an inevitable headache related to the cut on his face. However, Emily took it for what it was, first pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, right by the edge of his bandage. “Well, I’ll confirm it for you, alright.” She sighed, before pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, the tension in her shoulders faltering as she heard a soft chuckle escape his lips, his hands finding their way to her hips. He pulled her close by the belt–hoops of her pants as she connected their lips, her hands still on his cheeks. “You’re an idiot, Aaron Hotchner.” Emily mumbled against him, feeling his lips turn upwards into a smile as she kissed him again.

He was an idiot, but he was her idiot.

–––––––––––––––––

FOREHEAD.

The team had been checked into a small inn, somewhere in Alaska, for the case, investigating the deaths of several residents. They had travelled as a whole team, including Penelope, who seemed rather uncomfortable at the thought of having gone with them somewhere during a case like this. Both Emily and JJ had done what they could to tend to her, bringing her small items that usually would put a smile on the technical analyst’s face. Derek was more tentative than he ever was to the rest of the team, his hand usually always planted safely between Penelope’s shoulder blades as he mumbled sweet nothings in her ear to keep her motivated.

Emily understood, though. It was a case that got them all uncomfortable, and as they gathered around the fire that night, they all huddled in groups. Spencer and JJ shared a blanket, while the young doctor found a comfortable place of resting his head on David’s shoulder. Penelope and Derek were sitting together on the other end of the couch, the latter’s motivation being to bring a smile onto Penelope’s face as they looked through a photo of facial expression made by dogs catching treats.

In the kitchen area stood Aaron and Emily, Aaron leaning against the counter, the hard edge of the stone countertop pressing against his lower back in a way he wouldn’t usually withstand for a longer period of time, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he wanted to oversee his team, make sure they got the rest they needed. Beside him, Emily stood, dressed in one of his quarter zip sweaters, which was far too big on her – but right now, it brought her the comfort she needed without being in his arms at all times. Quite frankly, he regretted having given it to her; he would much rather hold her close, his arms around her waist and her head against his chest, the way they always sought comfort in one another.

“They’re tired.” She mused, lifting a cup of tea to her lips, sipping the hot beverage without giving it the time it needed to cool down. Aaron nodded, letting out a sigh as he shifted his position a little. Emily glanced up at him, noticing the tired streaks across his face; the case was taking its toll on everyone, and especially when it came to seeing the usually chirpy and happy Penelope be down. “You’re tired too, Aaron. You should get some rest. They’ll be fine for a few hours, you know that.” 

“Still doesn’t mean I will get rest, you know.” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, causing a small smile to tug on Emily’s lips. “I’m happy to see you take pleasure in my stubbornness.” Aaron rolled his eyes, stretching out a hand to pick the cup of tea from Emily’s hands, a devilish spark in his eyes as he lifted it to his lips, though grimaced. “Yeah, okay, you can have this back, I don’t particularly like a strong Earl Grey.” 

Emily shrugged, happily taking the cup back from his hand, their fingers brushing against each other for a brief second. Ever since the episode in the precinct, where she had marched up to him and kissed him (asserting dominance, as Derek had called it while smirking wider than the devil), they had taken a step back on their public displays of affection. Not that there were a lot of displays to step back from in the first place; moments like this, handing a cup back and forth in a kitchen or a break–room, was usually the extent of it.

She took a step closer to him, placing a hand on his bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze, his head turning as he looked at her. “I’m sure Dave can hold the fort for a couple of hours if you’re scared about someone having a nervous breakdown, or won’t stop crying.” 

“Are you referring to yourself, or to Garcia?”

Emily raised an eyebrow at his question, the words slipping quickly from his lips. “Well, I was thinking I could retreat into our room alongside you, and knock you out if you don’t go to sleep willingly, but now that you ask–,”

Aaron cut her off by pressing his lips to her, a low hum escaping him as his hand found its way to the side of her neck. The kiss was far from anything grand, but they remained like that, standing close together, their foreheads pressed together. Aaron’s hand stayed at the side of her neck, his thumb running along her jawline. They were unaware that David had turned, seeing them like this, a smile spreading on the Italian’s lips. He was happy that the two of them felt comfortable enough around the team to seek the comfort they needed in one another, quite like they were just doing. Sighing, David turned back, noticing how Spencer stirred in his sleep, before once again settling against his shoulder, and right there, for a single, undisturbed moment, it seemed as if a much–needed moment of reassuring and peace had dawned upon the team, giving them the courage they needed for the coming day.

[masterwords]

A Little Sick

Summary: Hotch and Emily are sick and stuck at the airport with the team in a snowstorm. (This is Hotch/Morgan but it is not their kiss.)

Warnings: none, it's just fluff

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan (but it's more about Hotch & Emily)

Words: 963w

Notes: Just a tiny little thing for Prompt 43 (A kiss pressed to the top of the head) of 50 Types of Kisses because @hogwartstoalexandria inspired me. I posted another one on AO3 yesterday but I'm just going to leave that over there.

Read on AO3: A Little Sick

**

It was not surprising to any of them that they would find themselves snowed in at the airport. Outside the windows plows were working hard to clear the runways, they could see their jet waiting in the distance but knew it would be hours at best before they'd be allowed to board and take flight. They'd all made calls home, let them know that it was likely they'd be at least a few hours late if not a full day, inconvenient at the best of times but at Christmas it elicited more familial complaints than usual. To make matters worse, both Hotch and Prentiss had managed to come down with something during the long case and sleepless nights.

“You're shaking my chair with all your dramatic shivering,” Prentiss groaned, tugging the blanket tighter around her legs. He wasn't exactly leaning against her but it was close enough to feel the vibrations she knew he was trying to keep under wraps without success. It just made her feel better to remind him that she knew, she saw, and she felt just as bad. “Go sit somewhere else.”

“This is the only blanket.” He didn't feel the need to elaborate, his point had been made in the silence that surrounded him, in the discomfort, the way he shivered beneath his layers of clothes as he tucked his gloved hands into his pockets to try and offset the chill. She let out a deep, rattling cough that he was sure she drug out longer than necessary for dramatic effect and closed her eyes, resting her head against his shoulder. It was all he could do not to push her away and force her to fend for herself. The blanket, gaudy as it was, belonged to him after all. The last blanket in the small airport gift shop, a huge fuzzy thing with a pack of bright gray wolves howling at the glowing moon, northern lights in the midst of their ghostly dance up above. It was a dazzling array of turquoise and pink set to the stark contrast of black and white, mesmerizing in its sheer audacity. Morgan had bought it for him the minute that their flight was announced to be delayed, and the further out it was pushed, the more justified he had felt in his purchase. Hotch was clearly sick, probably should have just been in bed, but this would do in the interim.

He was comfortable, huddled beneath the blanket and leaned in the corner wallowing by himself until Prentiss showed up with her coughing and glaring at everyone and demanded to share the blanket in the same way that Hotch had shared his illness. “I haven't had a cough,” he pointed out, trying to glare but coming up just shy. He just looked miserable. “We clearly don't have the same thing.” Just saying that had taken up more energy than he had to spare and he resigned himself to letting her do what she wanted, commandeering the chair beside him and half of of the blanket, curling her legs up in the chair until she was settled and then coughing. Endless, irritating hacking.

“So you're a virologist now huh?” she croaked, burying her face in the plush blanket. Across the lobby, the rest of the team were anxiously talking about Christmas plans, making it back in time, pacing in front of rows and rows of empty chairs. There weren't many people left, nearly everyone at the airport had given up and gone to find lodging for the night but they were holding onto the hope that they'd be flying out sooner rather than later. Reid kept the furthest distance from the two of them, eyes trained carefully on them each time they moved or someone went to talk to them.

“Ey!” Prentiss hollered in her raspy voice, stifling a cough. “Morgan! Get your sorry ass over here.”

With some reluctance, he excused himself from the conversation he and Rossi were deeply engrossed in (which she cared very little for, she knew it would be sports related and that fell firmly at the bottom on her list of important or uninterruptible topics) and made his way over to where the two of them sat. Hotch was leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed while he wished for a comfortable bed to go die peacefully in. There were more than a few moments he thought he might have to give up hope and book a room. “What's up?” As if he didn't know.

“I'm done babysitting for you. The shivering is driving me fucking crazy. I'm gonna go get a room for the night, he's all yours.” She stood, muffling a round of heavy coughs into her elbow and tugged at the blanket to take it with her. Morgan caught it as she stood, looped it around his arm and gave her a look that told her she was seriously pressing her luck. A moment of quiet indignation passed between them, and finally she gave in. With a sly smile, she leaned over and placed a brief kiss on the top of Hotch's head, shocked at the heat radiating off of him. Hotch didn't even move away from her, just let her do it and that was when she felt a little concerned about his well-being. She was sick, but he was clearly worse. “He might actually be dying. I get the blanket if he dies.”

“Go away,” Morgan instructed, whipping the last of the blanket out of her arms and taking the warm seat she'd vacated. Almost instantly, Hotch dropped into him, cheek against his shoulder and with a sigh Morgan covered them both in the enormous gaudy blanket, settling in for what he knew would be a very long night.

[cloudlessly-light]

can you write something about emily squirting for the first time?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, rough, dirty talk, multiple orgasm, squirting

It’s quick, the way he gets her naked and on their bed. The way he undresses himself before joining her. It’s quick and hazy as she straddles him and sink down on his length with a shaky breath. She had been wanting him all day, woken up with a need for him that only built throughout the day. It doesn’t surprise her that she comes quickly on him, her grinding hips and his searching lips and insistent hands making her fall apart in record time.

He uses the time it takes for her to come down to his advantage and flips them around until he’s hovering above her.

“Good?” He whispers against her lips and she nods into a kiss.

“More than good.” She smiles and he starts to move against her still slightly limp body. It’s deep thrusts, strong hips moving against hers as his lips kiss her jaw, neck, collarbone. She feels him everywhere and she tries to give back as good as she’s getting. Her own lips find his neck, licks against his racing pule, tastes the sweat on his skin.

“Em.” He grunts as he thrusts harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin almost drowning out their own sounds of pleasure.

Her second orgasm takes her by surprise, the pleasure building quickly until she’s digging blunt nails into his shoulders and moaning his name through shaky breaths. She’s barely caught her breath before she feels him flipping her around, another moan leaving her as he slowly pushes into her from behind.

“You’re so pretty when you come for me.” He whispers and the sound makes her shiver. “Let’s do that again.”

“Baby, wait…” Her words die in her throat as he starts to thrust, hitting right against that spot inside of her that no one has ever been able to find.

“You want me to stop?” He’s nipping at her jaw, words spoken against her ear that makes her immediately shake her head. “That’s what I thought.” There’s satisfaction in his voice, and even though she can’t see his face, she knows he has a smug smile on his lips.

She falls to her elbows as he picks up the pace, moves hard enough for the bedframe to hit the wall and she moves back against him with equal fervor.

“Aaron,” She gets out through harsh breaths and his pace slows, much to her dismay. “don’t fucking stop.”

He pulls her up suddenly, her back against his chest as his arm wraps around her torso, hand holding her throat but not pressing while his other hand sneaks down her body to rub her clit.

“So greedy.” He chastises with a grin as he licks up the side of her throat, the sound of her whine making him feel hot. “You want to come again?”

“Yes, Aaron yes.” She moans, her voice breathy and deep as her head falls back against his shoulder.

She grinds into his hand, pushes her hips back against him until he’s thrusting again, strong pushes of his hips that makes her head spin. His hand moves from her throat to her ribs, keeps her pressed against his strong body as he groans softly against her ear.

He thrusts into her, his shaft hitting deep inside of her as his fingers rub her clit in quick circles. She feels the pleasure build, a pressure that’s almost overwhelming as his voice only encourages her.

“That’s it Em, come for me, so good for me.” He holds her as her body trembles against his, her center clenching harder around him and he can feel his own orgasm nearing.

She’s not sure if she’s breathing, her vision blurring as he brings her closer and closer, until she feels something snap and her body jerks so violently in his hold that he’s barely able to keep her upright. She thinks she’s screaming, can’t hear anything other than her own heartbeat as she comes crashing into the most intense orgasm she’s had in her life. She feels the wetness on her thighs as she squirts, the clear liquid soaking the bed and them as she continues to shake.

Aaron groans, the sight of Emily coming so hard she squirted and the pressure around him forcing his own orgasm to rush through him and he comes spurting inside of her. She’s still trembling when he’s done, her body curled into itself and only his arms around her holding her up. He gently places her on the bed, away from the wet spot and cups her face. Her eyes are still closed, shallow breaths leaving parted lips and for a second he thinks she’s passed out.

“Baby, Em.” He strokes her cheek and her eyes flutter open to look at him. “There you are.” He murmurs softly, a small smile on his face.

“Fuck, that was insane.”

Her words make him laugh and she offers a tired chuckle.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh I’m much more than okay.” She smiles lazily, her entire body feeling boneless. “I’ve never done that before.” She admits and she sees his smile get bigger.

“Really?” He knows it’s stupid, the male pride that comes with what she’s just said, but he can’t help it.

“Really.” She kisses him again and then moves up on her elbows to see the mess they made. “We should change the sheets. And then shower.”

Aaron wraps his arm around her middle and puts his leg over her hips, effectively pinning her already tired body down.

“We will, in a little bit.” He kisses her cheek gently and she relaxes into his embrace. “For now, let’s just enjoy this.”

[maybe-itll-be-someday]

How Far We’ll Go

A/N: And here we are, six months later. Apologies for how long this took, but life and things got in the way and there were days that writing felt like the most herculean of tasks. But it’s here, and it’s finished, and I hope you enjoy how this story ends. In lieu of this being the last chapter, I just wanted to take a moment to thank my fellow writer friends (specifically @jetaime-jespere and @prentissinred) for encouraging me to keep going, for patiently listening to my wild ramblings of where I wanted this story to go, and for the love and friendship y’all have provided me even when I wasn’t writing.

This story was not only a journey for Aaron and Emily, but a journey for me as well. 

I hope I did their end justice. 

Till the next story. 

Chapter 17 || The End

Read on AO3

Aaron should’ve known that something was wrong the moment the headache settled at the base of his skull this morning, accompanied by a dull pain in his abdomen as he rushed through the case reports that he had pushed back in lieu of the remaining paperwork needed for the Director while they looked for Strauss’ replacement.

It starts slowly - an uncomfortable thud behind his eyes as he reads the Amber Alert, barely registering the name of the teenager who had gone missing before Garcia corrals them into the briefing room. The unpleasant turn of his stomach had morphed into a relentless nausea that kept his hand anchored to the seat in front of him, attempting to count the small grooves of the leather underneath his touch to help keep him standing. His legs shake underneath him, but he focuses on the team’s words and tries not to topple over.

He’s tries to pay attention - listening to Penelope review Charlie Wilcox’s background, listening to JJ recite his criminal history from the file that was seated in front of her, and watching the conversation bounce between the team.

“She’s been missing for over five hours and we know how time sensitive these cases are.” He starts, but stars begin to twinkle behind his eyelids with every blink, the varying voices of his team blurring into an undecipherable bundle of words. His ears feel like they’ve been plugged up with water, but the team is looking at him and expecting him to lead.

“The amber alert is expanding…”

His chest is tight, his ribs feeling like they’ve been cemented in place as he tries to draw air into his lungs. He feels the panic rise in his throat when he suddenly can’t breathe.

“Every hour…”

He feels the nausea that’s been a quiet persistence in the background crescendo to the blackness that swamped his vision. He feels the world tilt underneath his feet, taking his balance and his vision with it.

He needed to sit down.

“Excuse me.” He says, manners drilled into him by his father that were present even in the ugliest of moments. His legs give way and he feels his back hit the hard surface of the floor, his vision swimming in a blur of hazy colors.

He can hear his name, the scraping of the chairs as someone squeezed his palm. The fingers in his hand are too thick, too calloused, to be her fingers.

“Aaron?” He can hear her calling him, his neck lolling to the side in an attempt to follow the sound.

He just wanted to see her.

--

He can hear the sirens.

Someone pokes him with a needle, the sharp prick resonating from his elbow, but his limbs are too heavy to swat them away.

“Mr. Hotchner?” An unfamiliar voice calls, and his vision clears for a split second. He can see the IV tube dangling in the corner, the cold metal of the rails in the gurney, and the gloved fingers that are ripping his shirt open. He wants to stop them, to pull them off of him because Emily gave him this shirt.

“Stay with us, Mr. Hotchner.” The voice urges.

But he can’t.

And he doesn’t.

He just wants to see her.

--

Aaron doesn’t know where he is.

He’s suddenly in the back of the car, dressed in a hospital gown he doesn’t remember putting on. A wave of nostalgia hits him as the car rolls to a stop in front of a movie theater that feels familiar but he isn’t sure why.

He steps out, oddly drawn to the grand structure that was devoid of its normal audience. The doors open to reveal an old lobby, and he’s hit with vague memories of one summer spent with sweaty palms that never seemed to dissipate when he was about to see her. This was the movie theater where he took her on their first date, still awkward and unsure at the age of 16. A singular red balloon floats in the center of the empty lobby.

The red balloon he remembers buying for her after their third date, because he didn’t have enough money for a red rose.

She was here.

There’s only one set of doors that are open, leading into a theater with a movie prepped to play. He isn’t sure what movie it is.

He glides down the rows, the sticky carpet and scent of stale popcorn heavy in the air.

This is where he fell in love with her.

There’s a singular figure sitting in the middle of the theater, a silhouette that knocks the breath out of his chest.

There she was.

She was dressed in a green dress she once wore to an FBI gala many years ago - this specific shade of olive stained in his memories.

“Hi honey.” Haley says, a soft smile on her face. Aaron feels a familiar rush of emotion when he sees her blonde locks and the smile that stole his heart from across the classroom where they had English together.

All he wanted was to see Haley.

“I saved you a seat.”

--

Emily is sure that she’s broken a few laws by now as traffic lights and cars sped by in a blur down the Beltway from Dulles to Saint Sebastian hospital. Dave had left her a voicemail while she was on the plane, letting her know that they were taking Aaron into surgery and that they were on a case so she should call with any updates once she was there. That had been hours ago, and no new message came through her phone when she turned it on the moment they hit US soil.

Her heels click against the lacquered floors that cause her stomach to turn. The distinct memory of Aaron in a hospital bed as she watched over him, the hate for Foyet boiling underneath her skin as she cursed him for terrorizing Aaron. It wasn’t dissimilar to the hate she felt for Foyet now, the marks he left on Aaron years ago ripping open and tearing him apart from the inside.

Her badge is tucked in her palm, ready to flash it to the unsuspecting receptionist in pursuit of information of Aaron’s location when a familiar voice calls out to her.

“Emily?” She turns and she’s met by a bright yellow cardigan and a burst of color she’s only ever associated with one person.

Penelope is quick to wrap her into a hug, a blur of blonde hair and the scent of sweet peaches, her arms tight and strong around Emily’s slim frame and her eyes quickly sting with the tears she’s been holding back since Dave called her with the news.

Despite the fact that she’s been in DC for almost two hours, this is the first taste of home she’s had in two years.

“Where is he?” Emily asks, her gaze already drifting to the row of hospital rooms down the corridor, itching to find out which room he was in so that she could see him, eager to resolve the longing to touch him that’s plagued her since she left London.  

“They brought him down for some tests. They said he won’t be back for another hour or so. But Emily-” She almost turns around and leaves Penelope where she’s standing, if it weren’t for Penelope’s gentle touch around her wrist.  

“I need to talk to him.” Emily hates the way that Penelope’s gaze softens, a whisper of a frown on her expression. It looks like pity and Emily doesn’t want anyone’s pity. She fucked up. She knows she fucked up and she wants to take responsibility for it. She would go back to that night, with the safety of Aaron’s embrace lulling her to sleep and the faint memory of his words seared into her skin, and tell him everything that she’s been holding back. That he was the first person to give her a taste of a future she thought she would never get to have, that she loved Jack and the little life that they built for themselves more than she thought was possible, that she doesn't want to keep running from the possibility of a happy life with him anymore.

That she loved him - loves him. More than she was willing to admit. She’ll admit it now. She’ll scream it from mountaintops, in front of their team, in front of the whole fucking world if she had to.

She's so tired of running.

She just wants to see Aaron.

But Penelope stiffens, the soft touch she kept on Emily’s wrist tightening, insisting on her to stay. Her mouth opens once, then twice, before sullenly looking at the floor and wringing her hands, like her words were caught in her throat and she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Garcia.” She says, impatience tingeing her tone. “Just tell me.”

Emily steeles her gaze, an old and tired facade she throws over her expression to reassure the blonde that she could handle it, even if she felt like every second that passed was another thread pulled that would lead to her unravelling completely.

“He’s in a coma.” Ice runs through her veins as Penelope’s words fall from her lips. She tries to remind herself that he’s alive, he’s alive, alive. But a fear blooms deep in her chest, its wretched petals full of possibilities of living a life without him.

Emily wonders how many tragedies have to befall them before they get a chance at the happiness they deserve.

If they would ever truly get a chance.

--

Aaron can’t stop staring at her.

She’s pure and untouched, a harsh contrast to his last memory of her in his arms - a dark pool of her blood soaking the ends of his suit, his screams ripping his throat as Foyet lay dead in the background. But now she’s here, draped in silver green fabric that triggered memories of the first FBI gala he was ever invited to as a mere Behavioral Analyst when Dave and Gideon had first recruited him.

Like she had been preserved in the perfection of their early days.

There’s a mechanical whirl behind him and his attention is turned to the stage, where a film prepares to play on the large screen in front of them.

The first clip that plays is one of him, crossing the finish line at the FBI Marathon. There’s no sound, just snippets of his memories projected for them to watch. It cuts to Jack, holding up the handmade sign he and Emily had crafted the night before they flew out to Atlanta.

“Look how happy he is.” Pride blooms in his chest at Haley’s words, his gaze stuck on the screen and his heart flipping in his chest when the scene jumps to Emily, smiling at him as she teased him about not dying during the swim.

“I’ve met her before. That’s Emily, right?” Haley asks. A lump sticks in his throat, watching the sharp picture of Emily slipping her hand into his palm while the team forged on ahead - a stolen moment he had buried when they had broken up.

“You’ve met her before.”

“She understands you, doesn’t she?” Haley asks, head cocked and eyes shining brightly as she looks up at him in question. There was no jealousy or harbored feelings in her tone. She was genuinely curious.

Aaron remembers why he and Haley had fallen apart so grandly. She never did quite understand how he always chose hunting down serial killers over going to the park with Jack or spending an extra day at the beach with their families. It was the topic of many arguments they had fought over in the days leading up to their divorce.

When Haley left him, he was almost certain that he would end up married to his career.

Emily had understood, without needing to explain to her with words, why he spent late nights tucked away in his office, filing report after report of every gruesome thing they came across. Child molesters, serial rapists, and serial killers were never going to be easy. He’s told more families than he can remember that they had loved ones who were never coming home. He has told mothers and fathers that they’d never see their children again and held weeping children in his arms while shielding their eyes from gruesome scenes that would undoubtedly alter the course of their lives.

But she also knew the feeling of returning a kidnapped child home to grateful parents. The cracks of light that shone in their moments of darkness from sincere thank yous and hugs of relieved spouses and family when their loved one came home a little more scarred, but alive.

Their jobs were the reason that some victims would live to blow out another candle on their cake, or see their child take their first steps, or get the chance to watch another sunset.

They gave the victims a chance to live a life that both Emily and Aaron were deprived of. It’s why they fought as hard as they did.

It was an unspoken connection, one they never needed to explain.

“I think she knows me more than I do.”

Haley smiles and nods, satisfied with his answer as she turns back to the screen and watches an old memory of Emily with an old flat sheet tied around her neck as she chased Jack around the living room with a cardboard sword.

“He’s gotten so big.” There were tears in Haley’s eyes that mimicked the tears in Aaron’s as they watched their son, who they had spent many nights wondering what kind of person he would become. If he would be a lawyer or an FBI agent or maybe surprise them both and do something like pursue literature or fine art.

She should have been there to see him grow up.

And he hates that he’s the reason why she wasn’t.

“Oh, she’s really good with him.” She comments, eyes on the wide smile that Jack spouts as he points his own sword at Emily before she sweeps him into her arms, Haley’s lips splitting in laughter as Jack’s pirate hat comically falls off his head.

“She’s not you.” He says. Emily was never going to fill the hole that Haley left, no matter how much they both loved her.

“She’s never going to be me, Aaron.” Haley says, rolling her eyes and scoffing the way she used to when they were young and naive.

“Because she isn’t me. But she loves you and Jack, and that’s enough.”

Haley says it like it’s the simplest solution to his problem, an unwavering truth that he’s ignored.

“You think she loves me?” Haley rolls her eyes again and this time, it makes him laugh instead of hit with a pang of longing and regret.

God, did he miss her.

“Of course she loves you, you idiot.”

--

Penelope slides a styrofoam cup across the table, a sad smile on her face as she drops a few Splenda packets on the table. A bitter laugh catches in her throat, searching for a faint memory of the last time she put Splenda in her coffee. She takes one packet and empties it into her cup, figuring that she didn’t need a reason to avoid it anymore.

“It shouldn’t be long now.” Penelope says, breaking the heavy silence that blanketed the two of them. She had taken the time to explain to Emily everything that the doctors had said - all written in pink ink housed by a glitter-covered notepad that was used to contain her notes on whatever case they were working on for that week.

It was a retroperitoneal hematoma - the word carefully sounded out as Penelope read it from her notes. The scar tissue that bisected his abdominal wall had torn, causing his blood to fill his abdominal cavity. They did an exploratory laparotomy, but not without some complications because they couldn’t find the source of the bleeding fast enough, but they did what they could.

His body had taken such a massive toll that they placed him in a medically induced coma to help him recover. His doctors had said that he must have been bleeding for a few days with the amount of blood that they had drained and Emily wouldn’t be surprised if Aaron had been silently suffering for days and masked it well enough for nobody on the team to notice.

She tries to avoid the thought that maybe if she was around, she would have noticed.

Emily’s hands gripped around her cup tighter, savoring the warmth that bled onto her palms. They sip their coffee in silence, Penelope’s heavy gaze on her and her unspoken question almost tangible in the air. Emily knows what she wants to ask. She hasn’t been at the BAU in almost two years, but she was still a profiler and Garcia wasn’t the hardest person to read.

Luckily, just as Penelope’s courage reaches its peak and her lips part to ask the question, a nurse calls them from the entrance of the cafeteria asking for the friends and family of Aaron Hotchner.

“That’s us!” Penelope screeches, shooting a hand up in the air like she knew the answer to the question the nurse had. Emily doesn’t know where she falls these days - if friends was an appropriate term that would encompass their history - the long years of orbiting in each other’s purview, twisted with as much tragedy as there was joy between them.

The nurse leads them to the ICU, a comforting and soft smile on her face as she stops in front of the second door in the hallway.

“He’s in here.”

The door opens to reveal a mess of wires and machines, a steady beeping that was their only indication that Aaron was still alive and didn’t fall victim to Foyet’s final act of vengeance against him.

The air is suddenly sparse, siphoned from the room the moment that the door had opened. She’s seen Aaron in hospitals before - being tended to for concussions and broken ribs when unsubs got too nasty, for a doctor’s appointment that she drove him to in the early days of their relationship, and when she stayed steadfast by his bedside the day that Foyet carved the wounds into him.

But this was different.

She had gotten so used to seeing Aaron full of life. She had cracked through the stoic facade that hardened his features and caught a glimpse of the human that Aaron was outside of work. The patience and understanding at which he taught Jack, sounding out words that were too complicated for the 8 year old to read and the frustration when a case fell on a day where Jack had a soccer game or a parent teacher conference. The happiness that bloomed on his face when Jack presented him with a new drawing and an accompanying story, almost in tandem with a sadness as he looked around a room, trying to will a deceased person’s presence to witness Jack’s accomplishments.

The ferocity at which he protected all of them - from the numerous nights and favors he’s contended with when one of the team was in trouble, to the arm that draped around her shoulder to keep her close when they were crossing the street, to sacrificing what was to be his life, their life, in an altruistic act to protect others.

The intensity at which he cared. Jack’s well-being was always his top priority - even if he wasn’t as available as he wanted to be, he always made sure Jack was safe in any situation. He championed for the team and its members harder than anyone at the FBI did. He had complete faith in them, even when they disagreed; he never made them feel inferior in any way.

How he had always made her feel like she was the sole person in any room they were in. Even when they threw on the professional layer to obscure their relationship from the team, she always felt him nearby. The reverence and adoration that he worshipped her with. The safety that she felt when he wrapped his arms around her after a nightmare. The comfort that he brought with simple retellings of his day and Jack’s antics, all the way from the other side of the world.

It had all been drained from him, pouring from his wounds the same way that his blood had.

“I’m going to go to the nurse’s station to get an update.” Garcia says, alerting Emily to her presence that she’s conveniently forgotten about. Emily makes some vague gesture of acknowledgement, her eyes never leaving Aaron’s still form on the bed.

“Hi.” She says when Penelope's footsteps recede into the hallway, cursing herself for the crack in the one syllable word she’s said to him more times than she can remember. Emily clears her throat, trying to will the tears that knotted at the base of it to fall away.

“You could have told me, you know.” She says, the tips of her fingers tentatively brushing the back of his hand. He’s still, so still, but the itch that tears at her to touch him is too much. “You could have told me and I could’ve helped.”

A tear slips through the mask she’s forced on with the resilience she’s built over her career. She slips her fingers under his and revels in the steady warmth that floods her with familiarity.

“I don’t want to run anymore.” She says abruptly, as if those were the words that would pull him from the depths of his coma. She’s unsure if she’s making the revelation to herself or to the universe in hopes that she could pull it into fruition.

She thought that she always coped best alone. It was the reason why her trust with everyone before the BAU had been built on card houses - easily toppled by the slightest wrong move. A career and life established on unstable foundations had taught her not to trust anything or anyone.

Her fingers twist around his, slotting their hands together, briefly admiring the way their hands mesh together almost perfectly as the words made for each other echo in the corners of her subconscious. The hand that was unoccupied by his reach up to brush the too long strands of his hair from his forehead, more tears burning in the corner of her eyes when she remembers one of the last conversations they had, where he had complained that his heavy workload had prevented him from getting a haircut.

The smell of antiseptic stings her nose as she savors his warmth under her touch, a harsh contrast.

“I love you.” She whispers, the lump in her airway easing slightly as the words she’s left unsaid for too long finally fall from her lips. “I should’ve told you a long time ago, but I’m telling you now.”

She tries not to focus on the lack of response - on the stillness and silence that was only broken by the sharp, mechanical tone of his vital signs.

--

“I’m not enough.” Aaron confesses, his insecurities heavy on his chest as he remembers that quiet Sunday morning when Jack had doubted that he would stay too. How the uncertainty Jack had that weighed too heavy for him at 7 years old had cut through his chest like the glass that he had broken.

He wasn’t enough to save her. He’s not enough for Jack. He’s not enough for Emily.

You’re worthless.

The sting of his fathers palm resonated on his cheeks, the sharp warmth of contact hot on his cheeks.

You’re a disappointment.

His mother in the corner of his eye, shaking her head as his father bubbled with rage and raised a closed fist.  

“Stop beating yourself up, Aaron. You’re a great Dad.”

Haley’s words cut through the fog, grounding him back with a soft squeeze of his palm. Aaron forgets the last moment they had that was bereft of ill feelings and heavy-handed threats from Foyet. But Haley’s fingers brush against the skin of his cheek, as soft and reassuring as he remembers, catching the tears that fell from his eyes.

They had once been soft and pure. Their relationship once filled with a softness brought Jack into this world, before it calloused over and hardened as the years passed.

He can’t help but miss the simplicity of it all.

Haley tells him to talk and smile more, to reassure Jack with the words that he failed to give her, resulting in the giant chasm that loomed over them in the final days of their marriage.

Aaron wants to tell her that there was a period of time where all the things she wanted from him were a reality. He had spent six months talking more than he thinks he’s ever talked in his life, talking about everything and nothing. He knew his lips curved into smiles in unprompted moments, each second spent in her presence filled with lightness of an unbridled joy he hadn’t felt since before Foyet.

He sees that same joy split across Haley’s lips as she cheers Jack on, watching projected images of old memories they’ve made without her.

--

One day quickly bleeds into two, then three, and soon it’s been close to five days since Emily decides that when she said that she wasn’t running anymore, it would start in this ICU room.

Despite the throngs of doctors and residents that came into his room, poking and prodding him like an interest project after they had heard that Aaron’s wounds were caused by a serial killer, Emily remained steadfast at his side.

The team took turns popping their heads in, providing food and a change of clothes (courtesy of JJ) after her blazer had wrinkled in numerous places. Dave came by with food - actual food that wasn’t courtesy of the cafeteria downstairs that she inhaled gratefully, glad to be free of green jello and poorly made cold sandwiches. Morgan came by with coffee, no questions and a reassuring hand on her shoulder when she would report that there was ‘no change’. Reid tried to fill the silence with meaningless statistics on medically induced comas, failing to comfort her after talking about dwindling chances of waking up from a coma after the third day. JJ came in with a motherly intonation, gently scolding her for eating only a meal a day at most and telling her that Aaron would want her eating and sleeping more before presenting her with the clothes Emily had hastily shoved into the hotel room she had no intention of sleeping in.

Penelope was the only one who showed up each day without fail, the brightness of the colors she wore filling Emily’s day with the lightness that she craved within the sterilized walls and endless beeping of Aaron’s hospital room.

But even her visits were limited to maybe twenty minutes at most before she needed to be pulled back into her cave; serial killers and rapists were still running rampant across the United States and without the leadership of both Strauss and Aaron, the team’s workload had almost doubled. They tried to visit every free moment they could, but Emily stayed by his side day and night.

She’s alone most of the time. Nurses’ visits to check vitals and to smile at her with pity when they tell her that there was no change in his condition. She talks to Jess, who only answers in surprise when Emily says that she’s back in the States and they agree that it would be in Jack’s best interest to stay with her until Aaron wakes up - not wanting to confuse or frighten him. She tells Jess to keep her presence in the hospital quiet as well. Every day she calls and tells her the same news.

No change.

She tries to remain optimistic, but Reid’s ill-timed facts replay in her mind with a relentless tenacity. How brains were like muscles - needed to be used and worked to maintain its top form. Aaron had been in a coma for four days now. Doctors had weaned him off the medication that kept his coma medically induced, but Aaron was slow to wake. The seconds tick by all too fast and too slowly - both starting a possible march towards either life or death.

So she fills the silence and just talks.

Emily recounts old childhood stories she doesn’t remember if she told him or not. The au pair in France who had a penchant for dark chocolate and sneaking her port at the age of 9, telling her that a refined woman knew how to handle her liquor. The first boy she ever kissed was when they were stationed in Russia, also handing her the first cigarette that rattled her lungs and started an unhealthy dependency of nicotine that followed her to her early 20s.

She fills him in on the nuances in her life while living in London. How being back in her early forties was starkly different from living in the city when she was in her twenties. How the city was louder somehow - the echoes of car horns roaring in her ears and the stench of the sewer was more poignant now than she remembered. How she frequently felt judged for the heaviness of her American tongue despite her ability to weave seamlessly into most languages spoken across the city. How there was a cafe around the corner that made pretty good pancakes but they paled in comparison to lemon curd pancakes.

Eventually, the silence settles over them again. There was a small pit in her stomach, uncertainty and doubt blooming in its place. There were so many things she had meant to tell him. How she never had a penchant for planning for the future or having a family, but being with him suddenly opened up a realm of possibilities of a simple kind of happiness she didn’t anticipate for herself. How it was his quiet support that pushed her to be faster and better, knowing that he was behind to catch her if she ever stumbled.

How when Peters had died, in the harrowing spiral of the aftermath that nearly destroyed her, her only instinct was to call him for help.

There were so many things she wanted to say. She swallows when she banishes that dark thought that’s lurked in the corner of his hospital room ever since she opened that door.

You might never get a chance to tell him.

Her fingers wring nervously around each other as she tries to muster the courage to speak.

Her lips part, but no more words fall from them. Instead, she fishes out a copy of The Sun Always Rises that he recommended and clears her throat, opening to the first page and beginning to read. He didn’t need bedside declarations of love or to explain to him just how much he meant to her.

He understands.

He always has.

--

Aaron knew that his time with Haley would eventually come to an end, but when she starts to make her way out of the theater, he has no choice but to find out where she’s going.

He doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay here, where he could spend all his time catching up on all of the things that she missed. He could tell her about the thousands of adventures and misadventures Jack’s been on; engrain his memories into her the same way it would've been if she was alive. He hasn’t even told her about how Jack won his first grade science fair with his presentation on komodo dragons, or how Jack scored a goal but knocked over his opponent in the process but still extended a hand to help him up in his triumph and asked if he was okay. He wants to tell her that Jack was growing up not only kind, but also smart. He hasn’t told her about the books that were strewn all over the apartment and the seemingly unending database of facts on lizards that he’s memorized.

He wants to tell her that the hole she left was always going to be there, but there were people who loved Jack, loved him, the way that eased the ache of missing her.

Truth be told, there was only one person whose presence overpowered the pain he carried around with him, but she was across the ocean and happy with someone else.

Aaron would live the rest of his life hearing from her through emails and phone calls, knowing exactly what it was that he lost the day that she left him.

He could never have Emily. He will never have Emily again.

Haley laughs when he says that he doesn't want her to go, giggling like she couldn't fathom him even asking to be here. She continues to walk out the movie theater, Aaron trailing behind her as he tries to convince her that this is where he wanted to be.

"What about Jack?" Haley asks, continuing her path towards the entrance. "And Emily? They need you now more than ever."

He bites back the response that Emily doesn't need him and instead, just tries to buy more time. He doesn't want to let her go. He's not ready to let her go.

At least here, he could have Haley. He could spend the rest of their time together fulfilling the promise he made in his hospital room all those years ago.

I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

“I want to stay with you.”

—

It all happens in slow motion.

She’s by his side, book in hand as she reads him the latest chapter when a shrill alarm cuts through the silence in an instant. A long, hallowed beep that’ll haunt Emily for the rest of her life, turns his hospital room into a scene of chaos before she can truly understand what’s happening.

Suddenly medical staff were rushing into the room, completely ignoring Emily as they surrounded Aaron. One of his nurses grabs her by the arm and pushes her to the side, immediately slotting himself among the numerous rest of the personnel that seemingly materialized out of nowhere.

“He’s in v-tach.”

The long sustained beep continues to echo in her ears, her worst nightmare realizing in front of her.

“Miss Prentiss, we need you out of this room.” One of the nurses says, appearing out of nowhere with a gentle hold on her wrist and trying to escort her out of the room with an understandable urgency, but Emily stays glued to her spot by the door.

More personnel rush in, pulling furniture out and ripping his hospital gown open. One nurse has started chest compressions, the other yelling about fluids. The tears blur in her eyes as the commotion around Aaron reaches a crescendo; loud voices calling out medical terminology in strained voices and there is only one thing she understands:

She was going to lose him.

“No. I’m not going anywhere.” She grits out, her eyes never leaving Aaron’s form, even when the pressure on her wrist gets more insistent.  

No. He couldn’t leave her. She wasn’t ready yet.

“Miss Prentiss…” He says warily, looking back at where the doctor and nurses were flurrying around Aaron.

“No." She repeats, her fury coloring her tone as she rips her wrist out of the nurse’s grasp. Instead, she pushes him towards the center of the room, her mouth set in a firm line as tears stream down her cheeks. “Do your fucking job and save him.” The nurse wordlessly turns around and descends back into the chaos without another word.

There's more staff in the room, each rushing in with an urgency she's only ever seen in moments on the brink of death.

She was going to lose him.

And there was only one thing she could do.

“Please.” She pleads, unsure to what or to who, as her eyes stayed glued to Aaron’s lifeless form. She tries to will the forgotten faith that she had in a God she had stopped believing in.

“Please don’t take him from me.”  

—

He tries to stop her from going out of the door, but she just raises an eyebrow and tells him that he can't always get his way just because he's a big boss man. That sometimes he just needs to roll with what's happening, but control was always Aaron's strong suit. He's always thrived on the rigidity of routine, on the straight and narrow. He doesn't know how to "roll with it" and he tells her as much. He asks her how. How does he do it? How does he go back to a life without her, a life without Emily - a life that felt so bleak despite the fact that Jack was his only saving grace. Jess would take care of Jack and do it better than he probably ever will. He wants to stay here, with her, reliving all the good parts of his life on a giant screen. He follows her out of the theater, longing to grab unto her and just to stay here.

"Get out of your head." She instructs. "Your heart is the one that knows, so follow it."

Haley wiggles the ring he proposed to her with off of her finger, smiling at him and pressing it into his palm.

“Happiness is a choice, Aaron.” She says, squeezing his hand before letting it go. Her lips brush his tenderly, weighted with a goodbye he never got on that last night. “So choose.”

"And yes." Haley says tenderly, pulling an answer to a question he had never stopped asking himself. She cups his face, her thumb smoothing the frowns on his cheek and smiles at him one last time. "I still love you too."

When her footsteps fade, he opens his balled fist and sets his eyes on the ring in his grasp.

It had morphed from the yellowed diamond set in gold that he remembers buying her with his first measly salary to a shining, polished gem that had only lived in the shadows of his safe. Haley’s words echo in his ear as his fist closes again around the jewel.

Happiness is a choice, Aaron. So choose.

--

Aaron’s lost. He doesn’t understand where he is, or what is happening, but all he can feel is the pain.

Sharp and shooting across his entire body, blowing each nerve with fire as they crackle under his skin.

He feels a secondary wave of pain burn through him as rapid snapshots of his life playing in sequence. His father, a fistful of whiskey in his hand and anger in his eyes. His mother, the indifference of her gaze as his father swung a fist at him. His brother, barely five years old, with bruises already tinting his skin in shades of purple and yellow from the harshness of their father’s temper.

“The bleeding…”

Haley, across the room as he quietly observes her as his nerves flare, unwilling to believe that someone like her would be interested in him. Her smile when she tapped him on the shoulder as he tried not to look completely out of place in the theater club she was in. Her standing at the end of the aisle of a small church in DC right before he went into the Academy, tears in her eyes and a bouquet of white roses tied by blue ribbon. The awe in her eyes when they saw her ultrasound for the first time, his hand tightly encased in hers as they basked in the sound of the new life they made together. The joy in her eyes, bright and unyielding, when Jack teeters on uneven legs towards her for the first time. Lowering her into the ground years later, when everything had already broken between them.

“...filling his chest…”

Jack, with his loud and unexpected entrance into the world. The feeling of holding his entire world in the crook of his arm and the tidal wave of emotion that overcame him as his son wrapped a tiny hand around his calloused finger, how he marveled at the contradiction of the softness of their skins. Jack crawling into his bed, clinging to his shirt with a death grip as he told him how scared he was of the bad man who took Mommy. Jack shly emerging from his room, tie askew and eyes innocent when he tells Aaron that he had somehow retained the title of Jack’s favorite superhero. How Jack was reaching his preteen years and how time had passed too quickly and cruelly.

“...heart failing…”

Dave’s hand extended to him along with an offer to be an agent with this new team that he established with Gideon called the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Derek’s laugh when they train in hand-to-hand combat for the first time and Aaron gets pinned down to the mat in the first five minutes of their training.

JJ entering the bullpen for the first time, a fire in her eyes that let Aaron know that her sweet and petite demeanor would cause many people to underestimate her, but she would be the most ruthless of them.

Penelope’s never ending parade of color and enthusiasm that was the sole source of their motivation on tireless cases.

Spencer with his head down and deep in thought during his first interview, Aaron’s first brush with true intelligence, as he searched effortlessly through his mind for any and all answers and the continued vehemence for knowledge in any book he could procure.

Emily sitting on the ledge of her mother’s office window for the first time at the age of 20, bold and rebellious as he berated her for the cigarette in her fingers.

Her relentless fight as her own advocate when their paths crossed years later, confident in her abilities as an agent despite all the doubt that he cast upon her.

Her grunts of pain and the dull sound of fist smacking flesh as she told them over and over again that she could take it.

Her taunting smile as it stretched across her lips as she goaded him on and ran through Fountainhead park.

Her perfume, of lavender and clean laundry, brushing his senses for the first time.

The feel of her hair twined with his fingers, a solitary glow of a singular street lamp and a bright neon sign.

The screech of his name as she struggled in Derek’s arms.

The sound of her footsteps and the relief in his chest when he realized that she had come to save him.

She’s saved him more times than he thinks she knows.  

The determination in her voice as she focuses on nothing but the bomb on his chest.

30 seconds.

29 seconds.

28 seconds.

“Don’t you fucking give up on me, Hotchner.”

A sharp pain echoes through his being. He feels like someone’s blown a hole right through his lungs, sucking out all the oxygen. The flashes of light that blearily blinked in the distance blinds him with a brightness. He sinks into a soft, comforting warmth as his memories scroll like snapshots.

Until there was only stillness.

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

Beep.

…

…

…

…

Beep.

…

…

…

Beep.

His eyes slowly open, catching hers in a dance they’ve practiced to perfection.

He whispers her name.

“Emily.”

--

She doesn't leave. Even when he tells her that she should sleep, that the bags under her eyes had darkened exponentially since the last time they spoke via video call, she doesn't leave. Instead, Emily shakes her head and presses her lips to his forehead, muttering the same words she had screamed at the nurse.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Aaron gets better slowly, but surely. The toll on his body after the surgery and cardiac arrest had set his recovery back a little further than he wanted, but Emily's presence made the physical therapy and never ending string of doctors who came in more bearable. She rarely left his sight; always orbiting around him no matter how far she was. She spent as much time as she could in the uncomfortable leather recliner next to him, only leaving him when he went down for routine scans to go back to her hotel to eat or shower. Her hand was always in his grasp, the soft skin of her palm always pressed against his, regardless of who came to visit.

Neither one of them lets go even when Jack's eyes go wide when he first visits Aaron. He barrels into the room, armed with a plastic dinosaur and a handmade get well card, only to stop short at the sight of Emily.

"Emmy?" He asked, eyes wide like a child's would on Christmas morning - in joy and disbelief. He clambered into her arms as fast as he could and Emily could only laugh as the eight year old, who was definitely too big to be held now, wrapped himself around her like vines around a tree. He squeezes her tightly and Emily doesn't know if she deserves this; if she deserves slotting back into Jack's life like no time had passed at all, like she hadn't left him behind to protect herself. But all seems to be forgiven when Jack just squeezes her a little bit tighter, the card he had made crumpling in his hand from the force of his affection. Jack looks between the two of them before slipping out of Emily's arms and into Aaron's, accompanied by Emily's gentle warning about the stitches on Aaron's abdomen.

"Are you okay, Daddy?" Jack asks, settled in his father's embrace and his cheek pressing against Aaron's shoulder. Aaron's hands come to rest on the back of Jack's head, pulling him closer as Emily smiles at him. He smiles back.

"I am now."

--

It's too easy to forget that Emily isn't his, when she plays with his hair while he's taking a nap or when she takes notes as the nurse shows her how to change his dressings. Aaron is caught up in the whirlwind of doctor's appointments and making sure that paperwork was taken care of (despite all of Emily's protests) that when Clyde calls the day he gets discharged, he's brought back to the staggering reality that this was only temporary. She smiles apologetically at him as her phone flashes with Clyde's name and steps out of the room to take the call. He must have fallen asleep waiting for her to come back, because when he wakes up to Emily's fingers scratching his scalp in a way that eased his body of tension.

"When do you go back?" He asks quietly. He tilts his head away, shying from her touch because he doesn't want to get used to it again. He already knows what life with her and the stark contrast when she's absent. Maybe it would be better if she just left now before he grew dependent on her. He focuses on the Get Well balloon that Garcia had brought him, floating in the corner of the room as he avoids her line of sight. Suddenly, he is hyper-aware of the weakness of his body and the ache that radiated in every fiber of his being.

Somehow, the physical pain was dwarfed by the ache in his heart at the thought of her leaving again. He wonders how many times he has to watch her leave, how many times he only gets tastes of her before she goes home to someone else.

"Aaron." She coaxes his name, waiting for him to turn his head towards her before her fingers slip into the tendrils of his hair. She resumes her ministrations, her nails running gently across the nape of his neck and repeats the same words:

"I'm not going anywhere."

--

She has to tell him, multiple times over the span of a week, that she isn't leaving before he believes her.

She quits her job at Interpol, despite Aaron's insistence that he would be fine, that he didn't need her despite the drop in his stomach at the thought of her going back to London. She just smiles, the kind that shines in her eyes, and shakes her head before telling him the same four words:

"I'm not going anywhere."

Once he gets discharged, they build a new normal. Jack still has school and Jess starts on a new shift, so it's a team effort to make sure that both of the Hotchners are taken care of. Aaron is still limited by his injuries and is instructed by the doctor to remain out of the office for at least two more weeks and at least three months before he even thinks about going back into the field.

For the first time in his career, he doesn't think he minds getting pulled to the sidelines.

Not when Emily slips back into his apartment, his life, like she had never left. She makes breakfast for them when Jack has to go back to school, calling from the kitchen to ask where the chocolate chips were as he reviews the cases Dave brought over on the couch. She drops a kiss on his head before she goes and drives Jack to school, returning an hour later with coffee before peering over his shoulder and asking him questions about the cases. Her legs stretch across his lap as she settles in for a quick mid-afternoon nap, his palm on her thigh stroking absentminded circles against her soft skin. It all feels surreal. He's half-expecting himself to wake up, to be shaken out of this dream because he's just wanted this, her, for so long.

He's wanted her for as long as he can remember.

She shifts, rubbing sleep from her eyes and it snaps him from his reverie.

"What?" She asks sleepily, self consciously swiping the corner of her mouth in search of drool and he fights the urge to kiss her. Instead, he just squeezes the flesh under his palm in reassurance. They still had time to figure things out.

Right now, he just wanted to be here with her.

"Nothing."

He can't help but smile softly as it takes her a moment to reorient herself with her environment and he thinks that maybe she's just waiting to wake up too.

--

Two weeks fly by. Their days full of an unspoken understanding that they were still figuring things out. They don't kiss, or have sex, but they slip back to their roles as partners effortlessly. She nags him about drinking his pain medication. He looks at her in disbelief when one of his favorite sweaters had shrunk in the wash. They argue about what they want to eat for dinner and take turns putting Jack to bed.

But when moments between only the two of them are tinged with romantic atmosphere, Emily stiffens nervously and always finds another meaningless task to excuse herself with, so he doesn't press. Instead, he just basks in her company. He notes all of the things that make her nose crinkle when she giggles, or the new habits that she's picked up in her time in London. She now prefers tea to coffee, adapting the very English way of drinking black tea with milk.

So when he gets the all clear from his doctor to resume normal activity while Emily was out doing interviews at the Bureau, he asks Jess to keep Jack for the night and cooks dinner. He's always been a shoddy cook, but Emily was somehow worse. He makes fresh pasta with Dave's instructions over the phone, who ribs him when he asks about Emily.

"Are you both finally going to talk or just keep telling us that you're not living together?" Dave teases, his voice crackling over his speaker as Aaron rolls his eyes. Silence stretches out across the line and it's clear that Dave is waiting for a response. He blows out a nervous breath and chuckles as he manipulates the wet mix of flour and eggs in his hands.

"I.... I don't know if she's ready." It's the same thought that's rolled around his head whenever she shied away from him. Despite all the time she spent at his apartment, she still only slept over a handful of times. She insisted on only keeping a couple of clothes here and pushed him and Jack to spend time together without her. She was apartment hunting somewhere in downtown DC and she's been in the same hotel since she came back.

"You're both idiots."

"She's nervous, Dave. What if this isn't what she wants?" Aaron's voice goes quiet, betraying his normally shielded insecurity.

"Again, you are both idiots." Dave says exasperatedly, but when he's met by silence on the other end of the line, his tone softens with understanding. "She's here for you, Aaron. She just doesn't know where she stands, so let her know."

Aaron's response is interrupted by the rattle of keys in the front door. He bids Dave goodbye just as Emily steps into the kitchen, arms full of groceries that he had requested as a guise to keep her busy while he prepped the pasta. Her eyes widen in amusement when she spots the flour streak on Aaron's cheek, the soft jazz playing in the background and the sauce already simmering on the stove.

"Was that Dave?" Emily asks, dropping the groceries on the counter. Aaron nods and gestures to the two glasses of wine on the counter. Her finger runs along the label, admiring the wax that sealed the bottle.

"This is..." She loses her words as she reads the label of one her lesser-known favorite wines. It was expensive and only made in limited quantities each year, found only at a specific winery in France. Aaron just nods, giving her no further explanation for his choice, before smiling and handing her the wine opener. She takes in the sweet tang that emanates from the bottle and she can't help the smile that dances on her lips. He was clearly trying to earn her favor but she didn't know what for.

He already had her.

He brushes a hand on her waist as he reaches behind her for his own glass. Emily's breath stalls, his proximity causing an ache in her chest. The ache drifts somewhere between her legs when she recognizes the woody scent of Aaron's cologne. The one she always said was her favorite.

"Cheers." He says, offering up the edge of his glass for a toast.

"To what?" She asks. He pauses, before bringing his glass closer to hers.

"To being here." Aaron holds her gaze and Emily feels the heat rush to her cheeks. She takes a sip of the wine and delights at the crisp, full flavor of the red he had chosen. It was a miniscule detail she had told him once in the early days of their relationship and she was surprised that he had remembered it.

He asks her to stir the sauce while he continues making the pasta and they carry on in silence. Emily stirs as she watches Aaron's hand push and slide into the dough, meticulous in his kneading efforts. His forearms strain with the movement and Emily has to take another sip of wine to quell the blood that was rushing to her cheeks at the sight of the push and pull of the dough under his rough hands. They had both wanted to take it slow, not wanting to rush any decisions about the two of them. They had been apart for two years, spending most of that time not even speaking to each other. They had both changed since the last time they were together and she didn't want their coupling just as a result of a near death experience.

She was sure about him, but Emily needed Aaron to be certain too.

So she keeps her distance, not wanting into give in to her base desire, even though Aaron's forearms make a very compelling point.

"I think we're ready to cook pasta." He says, sliding his palms across her waist and her breath hitches in her throat when she feels his wide hands span across her skin. She pulls away slightly, the feel of his touch against her almost overwhelming. Aaron takes a step back, a rigid tension in his posture. He seems to contemplate something for a moment, before stepping closer to her and trailing his fingers down her forearm.  

"Aaron.. what..?" She asks breathlessly as he tips his head a little bit closer to hers.  

"Come home." He whispers.

"I'm already home, Aaron."

"No, not..." He steps into her space to cup her hips with his palms, beginning to draw light circles on her skin. "Not just this country. Home here, with us."

His finger dip a little deeper into the curve of her waist, like he was terrified that if he stopped touching her she would pull away from him. He's struggling to find words, but his eyes are bright and hopeful and she realizes that it was a hope just reserved for her.

"I want--" His words die on his lips as Emily's hand twists around the material of his sweater just to pull him to her, their lips and teeth colliding as the final wall between them tumbles.

He doesn't need to tell her.

She already knows.

She melts against him, his kisses sending fire into her blood as he gripped her hips tighter, pulling her closer to him. He kissed her as if he was dying and her lips were the only source of salvation. He pulls her away from the open flame on the stove and presses her against the counter, his hands moving down her body as he familiarized himself with her curves once more. He leaves a fire in the wake of his touch and she can't help but moan as his lips dip into her collarbone.

"Aaron, are you-- oh god." She moans as his teeth drag against her pulse point. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Is all he says before gripping her thighs and lifting her as she protests, telling him that he wasn't cleared yet but he just silences her with a kiss, one that she was more than happy to acquiesce to. She wraps her legs around his waist, his strength barely waning at all as he lifts her and takes her into the bedroom. Her hands grip the nape of his neck, her lips carving paths from his ear the the junction of his shoulder. He pulls greedily at her sweater, tugging it over her head to reveal the dark lace bra that painted her skin a sinful red. She blushes when he looks down at her, pupils wide and blown, to mouth at the skin of her breast. He lays her in his bed and covers her body with his. She expects his ministrations to continue but instead he had just stopped, gazing down at her. She's suddenly self-conscious of the multitude of scars on her chest - scars from a bullet wound in her shoulder and a branded four leaf clover on her left breast. As she brings her arm up to cover them, his fingers hold her hand in place.

"You're perfect." He whispers, before bending down to mouth at the edges of her scars. Her fingers trail his abdomen, feeling the newly raised skin from his stitches and a lump forms in her throat before she can stop it. Her lip quivers as the realization hits her:

He was still alive. Still strong and broad, able to carry her like she weighed nothing. He felt familiar, her hands exploring places that she's been before. There's new landscape to learn - a few more scars to accompany the ones already there but he still felt and smelled like Aaron.

Like home.

"I love you." She whispers, unable to keep the words back. He stiffens, his eyes wide when he pulls back and stares down at her. Her fingers scratch at the nape of his neck, keeping his gaze and pulling him closer to her. The words flow easily, glad to be finally said after years of holding them back. "I'm so sorry it took me so long, but fuck, I love you."

"I love you too." He whispers, swallowing her moans when he kisses her again.

They never end up making dinner.

When Rossi asks her later on if she liked the pasta recipe Aaron made for her, she blushes and stutters out an excuse.  

--

The following week, Emily packs the sparse belongings she had, and her homecoming is celebrated with Jack's arms around her waist and freshly made chocolate chip pancakes on the counter.

--

He knows that she’s only been back for a few months and she only moved in a month ago, but he’s been holding on to something that’s always belonged to her.

He only has to figure out a way to ask her.

The velvet box that’s lived in the box of his safe has been living in his pocket the last week, hoping to garner a spark of inspiration on the perfect way to ask her to marry him. A ring in a champagne glass is too cheesy, and he doesn’t think she would appreciate it if he proposed to her at work.

All he knows is that he wants to marry her, and he would do it tomorrow if he didn’t think that their love deserved a bigger celebration than marrying at the courthouse.

It hits him when they’re driving to Fountainhead park, donned out in running gear in anticipation of their Sunday tradition. When Emily hops out of the passenger’s seat to stretch, his palms slick with sweat as he grasps the velvet box and feels his heart rate pick up a few beats. She starts to stretch, loosening her muscles and bending over to highlight just how tight her yoga pants were over her rear. Emily suggestively cocks her eyebrows when she catches his gaze on her, clearly taking this little moment and saving it to tease him with it later tonight.

“Same route?”

She echoes the same words she did on that afternoon and he can’t help but hope that the universe actually aligned, after everything they’d gone through, for this exact moment.

“What if we make things interesting?” Aaron says, mimicking his own words from that day he knew he was toppling over the edge into something he knew he couldn’t deny any longer. Emily’s competitive streak shines at the mere suggestion of a bet - her chest puffs out, eyes shining up at him with the determination he’s ever only synonymized to her.

His heart roars in his ears, grip tightening over the solid box in his palm as the words leave his lips with a tinge of hesitancy.

Not because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to marry her - he was sure of that. What he wasn’t sure, now that he’s really thinking about it, was if Emily wanted to marry him.

“If you lose, you have to marry me.” He pulls the velvet box from his pocket, showing it to her as if he was pulling an old Chapstick from his pocket and not a ring he’s held onto for almost three years at this point.

From the way her eyes widen comically, she definitely did not expect this at all.

That fact alone causes pride to swell in his chest - that he actually managed to hide the fact that he’s been planning to propose to her. But the nerves quickly tamper down the pride, causing his stomach to turn slightly as she’s just staring at him with her eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He chuckles nervously, tucking the ring back into his pocket and waiting for her to say something, anything.

Instead her mouth continues to gape, and he decides that maybe actually going on the run would do them some good.

Or at least, give him enough time to formulate a response to when she will inevitably reject him.

“Loser has to marry me.” He reiterates again, before jogging off in the direction of their route. He makes it around three feet before he hears a sharp gasp. He turns around to see her bent over, weakly clutching her calf, setting the scene of a slice of their beginning, and his heart beats wildly in his chest.

“Cramp?” He asks nervously and she just nods wordlessly, waiting for him to approach her before she straightens up and looks him in the eye.

“I’m not going to beat you.” She says, an indescribable expression masking her face and his stomach drops. He knew it. It was too soon. He should’ve planned this better, actually made sure that this was the next step. They’ve never even talked about marriage. They haven’t even been dating a full year, with the first six months they were together included in that tally. Emily notices the way the light immediately fades from his eyes and shakes her head, reaching for his hand.

“You don’t need to make a bet to get me to marry you, Aaron.” Her eyes are shining with unshed tears, lower lip wobbling even as a smile stretches across her face. “But I’m not running five miles. Ask me.”

His own tears start to warp his vision as he bends down on one knee, ignoring the subtle ache as his knee touches the ground, and opens the box to reveal the simple diamond encased in bright gold.

“Emily.” He starts and reaches for her hand, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of it, tracing the path of imaginary circles that he’s drawn on her skin in the past. “I want it. All of it. Sundays, raising Jack, just this .” He gestures vaguely around him, like it was enough to encapsulate everything he wanted. Everything that he crafted into a fantasy he was almost certain would never come true for him. But it had, and here they were.  Somehow on the other side of it all.

He needs to make it permanent, because he was done living without her.

“I want this for the rest of my life.”

Aaron takes a deep breath, steeling himself because he might actually cry if he doesn’t get the words out.

“Will you marry m-- mnph. ” He doesn’t fully get the question out before Emily’s lips descend upon his, stealing his breath and the end of his question before leaving her answer in the space unoccupied by their lips and tears.

“Of course I’ll marry you, you fucking moron.”

--

They celebrate by going to the cafe and Aaron is surprised by the loud scream that comes from the cashier, who he knows now as Maggie, when he and Emily stroll in.

It only takes her a few seconds to hone in on the diamond on Emily’s left finger. The elated scream bubbles from her lips and soon the entire staff was showering them with congratulations, pulling Emily’s hand in a million different directions to ogle the ring on her finger. The cook, who he knows as Jose, insists on providing them with a free meal and Maggie fawns over the ring again when she delivers their food, telling them how happy she was that they were finally getting married.

“I always hoped you two would work it out.”

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who was rooting for them too.

--

There isn’t any less screaming when they tell the team.

Aaron actually thinks that Penelope repunctures his ear drum when she screams so loudly that he’s almost certain that the floors below them also knew that he and Emily were engaged.

--

They buy a house, one with a backyard and no cracks in the foundation when they inspect it with her hand in his as the realtor gives them a tour of a house. Jack is quick to claim which bedroom is his, which is the only blue bedroom and they don’t have the heart to tell him that they could repaint any room whatever color he wanted.

When they officially sign the papers in the empty living room that they were getting ready to fill with furniture that they picked out together, he pulls her into his arms and whispers against her temple.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.”

She presses her lips to his and whispers in the space between them that her home is wherever he and Jack were.  

But the row house in Dupont Circle was a great place for them to fill with their memories, their eventual wedding pictures, and with enough books to keep Jack occupied until he went to high school.

It would be their home.

--

They slowly fill the house with memories and new furniture - most pieces being compromises between his dark, industrial style and her modern French-inspired motif. But they make secessions, letting him have an entire section of their garage dedicated only to his golf clubs and their entire kitchen island fitted with a wine refrigerator that would make Dave weep with pride.

But the house still feels too empty, especially now that Jack was growing up and wanting to be around his friends more than he did his parents.

Emily shows him cat pictures once in a while, being sure to share Penelope’s updates of Sergio to her despite her insistence that she wouldn’t be taking Sergio back - he had a routine and a life and great company in Penelope. Sergio had done his duty for her, but she often complained that the pictures were poor substitutes for the weight of a soft, purring kitten on your lap.

Aaron tells her not to make plans on a Sunday, luring her under the fake guise of having brunch. Instead of driving them to their normal cafe, they drive thirty minutes away to the shelter where Emily adopted Sergio and tells her that she could pick one cat.

“Only one?” She teases playfully, but pulls his lips to hers in gratitude and they stroll through the cats when they’re drawn to a six month old tabby named Archie, who crawls right into Emily’s lap and refuses to leave as if he had known her in a previous life.

Emily looks up to him, tears beading in her bright eyes and he knows that this is the cat they’re bringing home.

When Emily briefly leaves him to go to the bathroom, Archie softly mewls in his arms, as if he was already too aware as to when Emily wasn’t near him. Aaron scratches behind his ears, eliciting the softest of purrs that rumbles through his tiny body and smiles.

“Don’t worry, Archie. You’ll be hooked, just like the rest of us are.”

--

They build a new routine on Sundays.

“Jack, can you leave Archie alone please?” Emily says, exasperated as the eight year old attempts to chase the cat around their kitchen, an uncooked batch of pancakes in danger of being knocked over at any given moment if they kept this up. Jack giggles wildly and chases the tabby around their kitchen island, Emily too focused on not burning the pancakes. Emily’s telling him something, probably having to do with Jack’s after school schedule for the coming week, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her he’s not really paying attention.

Instead, he stares at the glittering ring on her finger and savors the giggles that come out of his son as they made pancakes in their home on a Sunday morning.

If happiness was this choice, he would choose it every single time.

--

A year later, he's in Dave's backyard, the city lights filling the sky like the night that they were last here.

His throat tightens as the bridal march starts, the soft notes of Paschal’s canon weaving together before floating up and disappearing into the night air. He glances at the only person he could ever imagine at the end of the aisle.

He was right.

She was a gorgeous bride.

--

FIN

[sequinsmile-x]

Hotchniss death bed love confession in three paragraphs. go. who’s dying and why and did they know the other person loved them and does the dying person even love them back you tell me

Ok but remember you asked for this.

Short, anything but sweet and major character death below the cut.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

They hadn’t accounted for two unsubs, no details from the case giving it away until the last second. Spencer figuring it out when Aaron and Emily were already interviewing the two suspects alone. The rest of the team rushing across town in two different directions, an attempt at backup that would later prove to be in vain. They would figure out things happen almost simultaneously.

Aaron and Emily were both hurt, fatally wounded with no way out. They each took out the unsub, killing them before they could be killed. He knew it was over, that there was no way back, but he calls her hoping to warn her. Hoping there was some way to save her. The ragged way she breathes when she answers tells him he’s already too late.

It hadn’t been long, a month at most, since he had taken her on a date. Shy smiles and longing glances from both of them, a tentative kiss at her front door that turned into more, leading to Aaron leaving in the early hours of the morning so he could take Jack to school.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Aaron?” She says, her voice weak, her breathing heavy. “I think I could have fallen in love with you”

He laughs, and ignores the blood in his mouth.

“Me too, Em.”

They are both found with their phones in their hands.

[satansapostle6]

Hotch: Guys, come on. Let’s not talk politics at work.

Emily: Listen. All you guys need to know is that I think gay marijuana farmers should be able to overthrow the government with their bazookas.

Spencer: She’s onto something.

[realtime-00]

Found

The team finds Emily in a compromising place.

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

Word Count: 840

Warnings: Smut, oral fem receiving

The team was in Idaho, wrapped up a case with a good outcome leaving everyone in high spirits. Slipping away to the hotel bar to celebrate and blow off some steam. Hotch had retired 2 hours into the evening, giving an excuse of long hours and the high shelf scotch he was drinking making him sleepy. 

            Emily had made up an excuse of her head hurting an hour after that. Causing groans and various teasing remarks about how lame she was from JJ, Morgan, and Rossi. Reid had gone to his room only an hour after they ate opting to skip out on the booze and dancing. 

They had been dating a few weeks. Stolen moments in hotel rooms across the country. They were trying to keep it to their selves for a while. Give them time to explore what they had and enjoy it in ignorant bliss. It’s why she made her way to Hotch’s room instead of hers. Whispered plans to spend the night together in the precinct away from listening ears. 

He had been waiting for her, already showered and changed into an FBI issued t-shirt and black sweats. She had his room key, and he was absent mindedly flipping through a book on the bed when she let herself in. A wide grin spread across her face as he slammed the book and placed it on the nightstand beside him. 

Emily had barely gotten her shoes off when he met her in the middle of the room, his hands finding her face as he pulled her in for a fierce kiss. “Missed you,” whispered against his lips as she pulled his hips toward her. Already knowing how the night was going to end after having to be together but so far apart all week. She was craving him and knew he was craving her too. 

Hotch’s hands quickly found the curve of her ass, squeezing it as he lifted to place her on the bed. The need to bury his face between her legs almost overwhelming now that he had her near. Making quick work of her jeans as she stripped her shirt and bra off, throwing them somewhere in the room. 

He could see her glistening in the light, the wet spot on her panties letting him know she was waiting for this just as much as he was. Quickly pulling her to the edge of the bed as he sank to his knees. Letting his nose travel between her thighs as she let out a loud sigh and carded her hands through his hair. “Missed you so much baby,” he said against her core. The deep timbre of his voice against her making a shiver go down her spine. 

When he pulled her panties to the side and touched the tip of his tongue to her clit, she couldn’t stop the moan that came out of her if she tried. Her pussy throbbing as he wrapped his lips around it and sucked. Emily’s thighs squeezing around his head while he ate as if he was a man starved. “God, you taste so good Em,” he groaned against her. Making her orgasm rip through her when he curled two fingers inside. The pain from her gripping his hair causing his cock to throb angrily between his legs. 

He was shoving his sweats down his legs with his lips attached to hers when there was a knock at the door. Both springing apart with wide eyes. He quickly threw her his t-shirt with a finger to his lips as he made his way to the door looking through the peep hole. 

“Who is it?” Emily whispered as she jerked the shirt over her head, getting off the bed to go stand at the bathroom door so she couldn’t be seen. “The team,” he whispered back just as quietly as he flipped the lock. “Guys, is everything okay?” he said as he stood behind the door with just his head poked around. 

“Emily said she was going to bed, we knocked on her door and called her but there’s no answer,” Morgan said quickly as he took in Hotch’s appearance. His hair a mess like someone had run their fingers through it and shirtless. “We asked Garcia to track her phone, it says she’s here Hotch. Anything you want to tell us?” Rossi smirked from beside Morgan. “I uh-, I-“  Hotch stammered as he felt Emily’s hand on his side pulling him away from the door. 

Emily and Hotch watched as the three’s mouths dropped in unison. Their eyes taking in the appearance of both of them. Emily with his shirt on, barley coming to mid-thigh, her lips swollen, and hair mused. Hotch with his sweats hung low around his waist, shirtless with the fading imprint of someone’s teeth on his collarbone. Both of them smiling sheepishly as Emily wrapped her arms around his waist. 

“Oh Garcia is going to be so pissed she missed this,” came laughingly from JJ who was already pulling out her phone.