#hotchniss fics

[em-prentiss]

drunk in love

----

Aaron’s lips messily trace her knuckles. “Do you need a ride?” His voice vibrates under her hand.

“Nope,” she shakes her head. “My husband’s pretty drunk so I’ll be driving us home tonight.”

“Husband?” Aaron frowns, letting go of her hand. “Who’s that?”

Oh, this should be good.

Or, Aaron is drunk. And really unable to contain his love for his wife.

Word count: 2k

----

She feels warm inside. It’s hard not to, after a delicious dinner and flowing conversations and good company. Dave’s living room seems to always provide her with all three. Emily feels the heat of a gaze burning her cheek and turns to find Aaron staring at her, a goofy smile on his lips. 

“Hi.”

His dimples are deeper than they usually are given present company, a distinct gleam in his eyes that immediately tells her the reason for it. Emily knows that shine all too well; it doesn’t come very often, but when it does she knows she’s in for a treat.

“Hi.” 

“You’re really pretty.” He informs her, a slur to his words that she never hears in times other than these.

Emily presses her lips together to hide a smile. She’s glad for Aaron’s low voice even while drunk, his flirtations kept just for her in a room of their friends.

“Thank you,” she says, briefly feeling ridiculous for the heat in her cheeks. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” Her hand moves to the collar of his button down of its own accord. Emily smooths it down needlessly, and when her fingers dip inside, Aaron holds her hand there.

“Where are you sleeping tonight?”

His slow pulse beats under her fingers. Emily smiles at him and feels it start to quicken; she bites her lip to hold back a laugh. “At home. Where are you sleeping tonight?”

“Anywhere with you.” He mumbles, curling his fingers around her wrist. Emily grins. Aaron’s lips messily trace her knuckles. “Do you need a ride?” His voice vibrates under her hand.

“Nope,” she shakes her head. “My husband’s pretty drunk so I’ll be driving us home tonight.”

“Husband?” Aaron frowns, letting go of her hand. “Who’s that?”

Oh, this should be good.

Emily can’t conceal her grin this time. “You.” She says, twisting her body to properly face him. His usual frown pulls his brows together, only it’s confused rather than displeased.

“Me?”

“Mhm.”

His pupils are blown wide. “Goddamn.”

Emily bursts out laughing. She claps her hand over her mouth too late, the voices of her friends already dwindling down at the sound of her bright—she hates to admit it—giggle.

An enamored smile spreads across Aaron’s lips. 

“What are you laughing at, princess?” Morgan tilts his head, his eyes jumping between her and Aaron.

“Nothing,” Emily clears her throat and stands up hastily, holding her hand out for Aaron to take. “We were just leaving, weren’t we, Aaron?”

Aaron nods solemnly as he takes her hand. “’d go anywhere with you.”

Emily’s cheeks heat as she tugs him up, his voice now carrying in the silence of Dave’s living room. While Aaron is never shy about his love for her, he is quiet; careful to keep it something between them, even in somewhere more casual like Dave’s. Only the walls of their home fully know the extent of his love, and Emily wants to keep it that way.

Tonight, her wish is far from fulfilled.

“Mm, you said that already,” she murmurs, hooking her arm around his waist because he looks like he’s about to topple—she doesn’t remember him drinking that much—and steadfastly ignoring the hot gazes of her friends.

“Is bossman drunk?” Penelope asks.  

Even without turning Emily can sense the giddy in her voice. She makes a face as she reaches for her purse, knowing Aaron wouldn’t like being exposed like this.

“He’s a fair bit intoxicated, yes, so we’re going home now.” Emily gives them a tight smile as she cranes her head to look at them, not really able to twist with Aaron leaning half his body weight against her side. She catches Dave and Morgan’s smug looks, JJ’s stifled amusement, and she squeezes his waist, “C’mon, hon, let’s go.”

“Can’t believe I’m goin’ home with you.” Aaron sighs into her neck. “’Cause you’re my wife. She’s my wife isn’t she?” His head pops up again, his eyes meeting Rossi’s. “Dave, she’s not lying to me is she?”

Dave chuckles and shakes his head, the gleam in his eyes making her irrationally irritated. “Nope.”

Emily’s heart pinches at the insecurity lining his voice. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this,” she says softly. Aaron turns to her and she only barely holds herself back from kissing him breathless, just to prove it to him. “I’ll show you some pictures in the car, hmm? Proof.” She gently pushes away the soft hair hanging over his forehead. 

Aaron smiles. “Y’have pictures?” He asks, looping his arm around her waist.

Before anyone else can say anything, Emily gets her feet to move, channeling all her strength and tugging Aaron with her. “I have lots of pictures. Night, everyone,” she tosses over her shoulder.

“Hey, let me help you with him.” Morgan says, quickly crossing the floor and reaching them.

“My wife’s all strong Morgan, she doesn’t need your help.” Aaron mumbles. 

“Yeah, back off, Morgan.” Emily reiterates, winking at him to soften her words.

“Alright, alright.” He steps back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. When she looks at him his gaze is less unabashedly amused, some genuine concern in his eyes as he hovers over her shit-faced husband.

Emily relaxes a little. “Thanks, though.” She smiles at him over Aaron’s head.

“Anytime.”

By the time they reach the car and Aaron is settled into the passenger seat, the ache in Emily’s shoulder is almost enough to make her regret rejecting Morgan’s offer.

“I just don’t get when you drank this much,” she mutters as she leans over the console and gently swats at Aaron’s unsteady hands, buckling his seatbelt instead. “You were right next to me.”

Aaron isn’t listening. He reaches out to touch a lock of her hair, gently curling it around his finger before he tucks it behind her ear. Even drunk, his movements clumsy, he’s gentle as he pins it back. Emily smiles at him, the heat back in her cheeks.

“Can we kiss?” He whispers.

A small laugh escapes, gentle and secret, trapped in the confines of the car as Emily stretches her body further to reach him. Her hand slides into his hair, gently cradling the back of his neck as she brings his lips to hers. 

He tastes like the multiple glasses of scotch he’d had at some point in time. Emily ignores that, relishing instead in the careful way he touches her; gently cupping her cheek, skimming his thumb over her jaw.

“I missed you.” Aaron says when she leans back.

“Yeah?” Emily murmurs. He nods and she kisses the corner of his mouth, “I did too, my love.”

Even in the dark, she sees his cheeks redden. Emily kisses one of them before settling back into her seat, a dull ache in her lower back. She buckles her seatbelt and drives off as Aaron’s head hits the headrest.

It doesn’t take long before he reaches for her hand.

Butterflies twirl in her stomach as he gently runs his thumb over the back of her hand, then her knuckles, then down the joints of her fingers. “Hey, you stopped biting your nails.” A small smile plays on his lips. He bends his head down, presses a kiss to her healed cuticles. 

“Yeah, a long time ago.” She says softly. “You helped.” Emily turns just in time to catch him beaming at her. 

“I did?”

She squeezes his fingers as they reach a stoplight. “You did. You made me wear nail polish and held my hand whenever I tried to bite them.”

Aaron kisses her fingers again. “Glad I could help, baby.” 

The rare nickname makes her breath hitch. Emily drives off when the light turns green, her heart unsteady as Aaron continues to carefully examine her hand. She feels it when he reaches her engagement ring, his thumb reverently smoothing over the band.

“That’s a pretty ring.” He murmurs, his voice hushed as he traces the diamonds on it.

Emily hums. “Isn’t it? You gave it to me.”

“I have good taste.” He says sagely.

She laughs softly, her heart suddenly feeling fuller than it did seconds ago. Aaron’s breathy laugh joins hers, echoing through the car as he sets their joint hands on the center console. Quietly, Emily hopes he’ll speak up again, but he stays silent, turning his head to look out the window at the passing cars. The sweeping of his thumb over the back of her hand remains continuous, though, and Emily stupidly longs for it in the few seconds she lets go to shift the gear.

He speaks up again when she turns the corner into their neighborhood.

“Mmm, ’mily?”

A surge of warmth rushes through her at the softness of her name on his drunken lips. She tightens her grip on his hand, chewing on her lip to hold back a smile.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Do we have any babies?” He asks.

Emily hums. “We have Jack-Jack. And Sergio.” She smiles wryly.

Aaron scoffs, “Sergio is not a baby.” He quiets then frowns a little, his voice going low. “And Jack isn’t a baby anymore.”

“Not technically, no. But he’ll always be your baby.” 

“He’s growing up.”

Chancing a glance at him, she finds a sad frown etched on his face. Emily grabs his hand off the console, sweeping her lips over his knuckles. “It’s what kids do, baby.”

Aaron huffs as she pulls into their driveway. “Wish they’d stop doing it so damn fast.” He grumbles.

She hums in agreement, letting go of his hand to put the car in park. Emily expects him to forget the topic and move on to something else, but he’s still frowning by the time they walk into their quiet living room.

It makes her sigh to herself, quietly letting go of a promise she’d made to herself a few hours ago. 

“Hey, Aaron,” she wraps her arms around his neck, gently trapping him against the front door. “I have a secret to tell you. I was gonna tell you later, but I don’t think you’ll remember if I told you now anyway.” The tips of her fingers slide into his hair.

“I’d never forget anything you told me.” He says solemnly.

“Cute,” Emily winks, “but I don’t think you’ll remember this one in your state.” She cups his face and gives him a smile, mentally shaking out the jitteriness in her body before she says, “You’re gonna have another baby soon.”

Aaron frowns.

Emily freezes.

“We’re not getting another cat, Emily,” he huffs, his scowl fit for an unsub. “One feline is more than enough, thank you—”

“I’m pregnant,” Emily interrupts, laughing at the way his jaw abruptly drops, “you idiot. Why would I call a cat a baby?” She asks incredulously, a grin spreading over her lips at his dumbfounded expression, the hazel of his eyes swirling with wonder.

“Pregnant?” Aaron whispers. Emily nods and he smiles dorkily, two dimples in his cheeks that she briefly imagines in a smaller, softer face. “My baby,” he breathes, slipping his hand under her shirt and poking her stomach, “in here?”

This time, Emily giggles unabashedly. “In here,” she covers his hand with hers, holding it tighter against her bare stomach. “Our baby.” She says softly, tears misting her eyes at the sound of it out loud.

Aaron’s eyes go glassy, too. “Fuck, I love you.” He pulls her into a bear hug, his arms tight around her back and the nape of her neck. She’s essentially trapped against him, enveloped in the scent of cologne and scotch.

“I love you too.” Emily laughs shakily, stepping on her tiptoes and kissing his jaw. “Now can we please go upstairs? My back is killing me.”

“Anythin’ you want, Emily.” His lips find her hair. Then her forehead, and her left cheekbone, and the tip of her nose. “Anything for you.”

She thinks she’ll be hearing that a lot over the next nine months.

taglist: @kllingdaddy @luhwithah @cheetobreath07 @dontemilyyyyme

[emilycm]

guys this is so so random but pls tell me someone knows the fics i’m thinking of because i’ve been trying to find them for the longest time!!!

one where emily and hotch (they’re not dating) were godparents to jj’s second kid and then something happens to jj and will and they have to take in both kids

emily was raising declan, declan and jack became friends and it brought em and hotch closer together

both are get together fics and i seriously think abt them all the time but i can’t find the links so pls lmk if you know of them!!!!

[sequinsmile-x]

Young Hotchniss AU - Instagram Posts

This exists purely because I saw a picture and thought "huh that looks like young Aaron" and now here we are. Now I'll wrestle with the desire to write a fic based on this too.

Mentions of pregnancy throughout.

-x-

[forhappysake]

[thewulf]

Did You Just...? || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - What about a young!Hotch x reader and they’re best friends crushing on each other?? Idk if you remember that TikTok trend where you call your crush or film a video and kiss your best friend and they don’t know what’s going on?... Read Rest Here

A/N: PURE FLUFFFFF. Loved this. Hope you guys enjoy :) This is a Young Hotch set in present day :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 3.0k

“Okay but you’ve been on the app right?” You asked Aaron after sitting down at his desk filled to the brim with paperwork that needed to be completed but never had the time to do. He peaked his eyes over to you once you sat down with a huff.

Amusement danced in his gaze as a small smiled played on his lips at your overt casualness with him. It was remarkable to witness you go from the scared and timid profiler hired right out of school to chatting his ear off at lunch every day in a matter of mere months. See, he was in his third year at the BAU and thought he had figured it out. That was until you came along and rocked his world.

He used to come to work, get some paperwork done, put his head down and go home after a long day. It worked for him. He was ‘friends’ with his coworkers as best as he could be, but he was the young pup of the group. Then you were onboarded. Gideon hired you the second you graduated after blowing him away in one of the classes he taught at Georgetown. You came in like a hurricane that he wasn’t quite ready for but knew the team needed.

You were so different than Aaron’s other coworkers. You actually talked to him and got to know him. You weren’t afraid of his intimidating gaze but instead found it a fun challenge to try and get him to break his facade. It annoyed him at first. He went to work to work, not socialize. But leave it to you to sway his opinion on the matter. Aaron didn’t want to admit just how much he had grown to love and adore your smiling face greeting him every morning. He really didn’t want to admit how much he looked forward to your early morning coffee chats or daily debriefs when Gideon was being a hard ass. You were the sunshine of the group. The one that brought the optimism while the rest of the team turned terribly pessimistic.

He'll never forget the first time you caught a killer. He almost had a heart attack when you quite literally jumped on top of the man, surprising him and taking him to the floor without a second thought. You smiled right up to him after he was in cuffs and whispered a, “One down. A hundred more to go.” To him. He knew right then and there that you’d be in his life for a long time.

“What app?” He set the pen he was writing with down as he turned his attention to you.

Sighing you opened your phone showing him, “Don’t play dumb with me Hotchner.” Your eyes glowered at the man with a subtle smirk resting right on his face, “Tik-Tok.”

He leaned back watching the videos you’d saved. He assumed they were ones you thought would convince him to download it. He was right of course. You’d saved the funniest ones in hopes he’d download the damn app. You’ve been trying for weeks to get him to do it. But then again, it almost took you three entire months to convince the man he needed to upgrade from his prehistoric iPhone 5.

“You know that’s likely spyware and the government…”

You cut him off with another long-drawn-out sigh, “Okay dad. But it’d not banned. So, download it.”

Aaron could mess with you, and he knew it. And enjoyed it. He didn’t dare want to admit just how happy he got when he got you to blush under his gaze. You’d quite literally waltzed in and rocked his absolute world. He knew he couldn’t catch feelings for you and yet here he was. On the brink of falling in love with the funnier than ever coworker who knew him better than he knew himself. How cliché.

He leaned back in his office chair crossing his arms over his chest, “You know. I don’t think I will.” He watched your face closely. You were far too easy to read. Something he was working on with you. You gave away everything on your face. His smirk only grew when you raised your eyebrows in slight surprise. It wasn’t often he didn’t bend over backwards to make you happy. He would of course download the stupid little app to make you happy. Just like he got the latest iPhone once you saw the horrifying state of his almost 10-year-old phone.

You leaned back in the same manner he had, “No need to be so obstinate Hotch.” Giving him a playful push, you couldn’t help but to giggle at his amused grin. It was easy to forget the two of you were at work of all places. It was just so easy to forget with him. He made you want more with him, so much more. A much easier case to crack than you originally thought. He was an utter softy under the rigid exterior put on for the team.

He knew he should get back to work but he just couldn’t shoo you away. He looked forward to moments like these. Little moments where he got to steal some of your time and attention, “Look at you. Using your big words.” His smirk deepened as he watched you register his words in real time. He was playing around with you. He’d gotten so comfortable with you he was beginning to mess with you right back. You’d grown used to teasing him and only getting an eyeroll or snicker in return. You weren’t used to this. And you had to admit you loved it. A subtle change you’d grown to adore.

“Didn’t go to school for nothing.” You winked at him knowing the double negative would set him off.

He shook his head, “You’re something else, you know that?”

Wiggling your eyebrows at him you nodded your head, “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Relenting, he fished his phone out of his pocket. He opened it up knowing damn well he didn’t download the app but he’d sure as hell let you do it. He’d truly do anything for you, “You’re right.”

Ignoring the flush that rose to your cheeks you grabbed the opened phone from his hands. You knew you shouldn’t be having these thoughts for your dangerously attractive slightly older and much more put together coworker. But damn. You had all the thoughts and feelings.

You sighed, “Just as I suspected.” Shaking your head in disapproval you handed the phone back to him, “Now, I need you to make an account to night. Let me know when you do! I have so many to share with you.” You grinned knowing he was going to give in one way or another.

He took it back, “That’s a lot of work.” He spoke with a grin that meant he was just teasing you. Two could play that game.

“Yeah, because you’re so anti-technology. But I promise you can do this. Who else am I supposed to send TikTok’s too?” You widened your eyes as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“You’re other friends?”

You shrugged, “I do send them. But these are for you.”

Aaron couldn’t help but to smile at your ever so quick comebacks. One of the many reasons he had fallen for you so quickly, “I’ll do it. But…” He paused letting it linger in the air for a moment.

“But what Hotchner?” You raised your eyebrows, ever so curious as to what his stipulation could be.

His smile widened seeing your impatience for him grow, “Only if you come over and show me how.” He’d never really been so bold before. Sure, you’d been over to his place a few times in passing, once for a team dinner. Gideon’s genius idea to have somebody from the team host once a month. You’d rather come to enjoy the gatherings. Especially when they were at Rossi’s place. The wine and food pairings never ceased to amaze you. You on the other hand always insisted on taking the team out when your month rolled around. It was a little too embarrassing to have the entire team over at your rather small one-bedroom apartment.

“Propositioning me now Hotch?” You challenged back to the man you were head over heels with knowing it’d throw him off his game. The smile that immediately dropped let you know you did exactly that.

This time it was his mouth that dropped as his cheeks turned an adorable violet. Oh, you got him this time. You wished you could take a picture. He was just too cute when he thought too hard. If you were at home you would’ve risked a picture, but you didn’t want to cross the line at work. You’d never dream of putting him in an awkward position here. The both of you worked way too hard to blow it up now.

“You know I would never ever…” He started rambling. It would’ve been adorable had he not been actually freaking out a little bit. Of course, you knew that. You really were just messing with him.

Shaking your head, you stopped him, “I’m teasing you Aaron. I’d love to come over and show you how to make a TikTok account.”

He let out a strangled sigh of relief, “You’re killing me.” He loved it when you called him by his first name. It sounded too good coming out of your mouth.

Biting back a smile you stood from the chair, “I’ll be over at 6?”

You watched as he leaned forward grabbing his pen once more. Turning to you with that smile you’d grown to adore he nodded, “Don’t be late.”

“I wouldn’t dare Hotchner.” Shooting him one last wink you walked away briskly letting your heart get far, far away from the man who was causing it to beat right out of your chest.

“You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be Hotchner.” You giggled itching to take the phone away from Aaron.

He shrugged giving you a wicked grin, “We’re not all technologically savvy Y/L/N.” He chided back knowing he might’ve been taking his time so that you didn’t have an excuse to leave. He took his time making dinner, not starting until you made it over. Taking his time cleaning up and getting dessert out. Pretending not to know how his phone worked. He wanted to steal your time away. Not that you minded, not in the slightest.

Rolling your eyes, you finished setting it up for him, “You could say that again.”

A small chuckle rolled off his lips. He put his phone back down before turning his head back to you. You were watching him with all the love in your eyes. You’d tried so hard to hide it, but it was becoming an impossible task. He was so easy to fall in love with. How were you to blame?

Feeling bold you decided to move forward with your plan. Picking up your phone you clicked the video player to record and angled it towards you and Aaron.

With scrunched brows he observed you, “What are you doing?”

“Since you’ve never opened the app you’ll never get it. But we’re doing a video. I’ll post it. It’d trending right now.” You said as nonchalantly as possible trying not to let your voice waver. You had to be confident

Curiously we watched as you scooted closer to him, “Trending?” He asked with a hint of amusement lacing his voice.

You nodded not daring to meet his curious gaze, you’d surely lose the confidence to actually do it, “Mhmm,” You hummed, “If you’ll let me that is.”

He grinned, “Be my guest.”

It felt like your heart was about to leap out of its chest. Now or never, really, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He smirked seeing you finally look him in the eyes, “Do your worst then.”

It was really now or never. You grabbed either side of his face and decided to go for it.

His eyes widened in pleasant shock as you pressed your lips to his. He could’ve sworn his heart stopped then and there. That was bold, even for you. But then again you always had him on his toes. Another one of the many reasons he knew that made him fall for you. It took him a second to long to respond to this kiss. But once he did he wasn’t going to let you go.

Once you needed air though you did have to pull away. Adrenaline was now coursing through you as you realized you really just kissed not only your friend but your coworker as well. There was truly no going back now.

“Did you just…?” His mouth bobbed open and closed like he couldn’t believe what you just did.

You watched as his face went from shock to realization to… satisfaction? A fast and hot blush erupted on your cheeks as you realized he was watching you too, waiting on an answer to his very own question.

“I did.” Biting your lip, a wave of anxiety washed over you as you waited his answer.

You didn’t get one as he leaned in this time. You felt as his hand wrapped around the back of your neck and up through your hair. Carefully he pulled your head towards him as he kissed you with a little more dominance this time. He was in charge. He wanted to kiss you. You didn’t fight the way your body melted right into his. Feeling him smile as you folded into his touches like putty, you didn’t dare break away. You’d dreamed of this moment for far too long. Almost six months too long now.

He pulled away gently, leaning his forehead on yours, “Thank God you did.”

Your heart was hammering so hard in your chest you only could hope he couldn’t hear it being so close, “Yeah?” You asked, a hint of insecurity in your voice.

He moved away from you only so he could look you in the eyes. His hands landed on your shoulders giving them a gentle squeeze, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” His usually unreadable face broke into a light blush, one you probably wouldn’t be able to see if you weren’t so close to him.

“Why didn’t you?” The smile on your face let him know it was all in good fun. You just loved teasing him. And he loved teasing you right on back.

He shook his head with the saddest smile, “Would it be too cowardly to say that I didn’t want to mess it all up? I didn’t want to make a mess of it if you didn’t feel the same.” For the first time you’d seen a side of him you’d really never have seen before. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t have an answer. He looked to you for the next step.

A quick shake of your head brought you back to the present, “I’d never think of you as a coward Aaron.” You reached for his hands that landed back down at his side, “And I’m certainly glad I didn’t make a mess of it.” You giggled feeling relieved that he clearly felt the same way. You didn’t think he’d kiss you like that if he didn’t.

“Go out with me tomorrow? On an actual date? Where I can actually woo you. You weren’t supposed to do that by the way.” He pinched your side lightly loving the way you squirmed under his touch, “But then again. You always seem to take me by surprise.” He clarified leaning back in wanting so desperately to kiss you once more but needing to hear your answer first.

“Do I now?” If your heart could speed up it certainly did as he leaned closer and closer once more.

“All the time.” He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, his thumb gingerly brushing on the apple of your cheek. A shiver you tried to stop erupted from your body at the lightest of contact with him. You were a goner, and you knew it.

“Good to know.” You grinned before leaning in and giving his nose a quick kiss, catching him off guard yet again, “And yes, I’d love to go out with you.” You continued after sending his brain into a tizzy. You truly would be the death of him.

He didn’t waste a second more before bringing you in for a much slower kiss this time. He too was in utter disbelief this was going on. Sure, he’d daydreamed about it on far too many occasions, but it was actually happening. He was kissing you.

When he pulled back for air he gave you a once over again, “I haven’t told you how pretty you look tonight.” He knew that’d draw that pretty blush he loved so much.

You pushed at his chest lightly giving him a soft laugh. You turned your head spotting the phone you’d set up to record about five minutes ago.

“Oh crap.” You pulled yourself off of him to grab at the phone quickly ending the video. A soft smile graced your face as you thought about watching that later.

He grinned, “Are you going to post that?”

Shaking your head quickly you saved the video before closing out of the app, “No, I don’t think I will.” Looking back up with all the love in your eyes you scooted closer to him, nearly on top of him now, “Think I’ll keep it just for you and I.”

He pulled you onto his lap, getting the hint, “You’re a sap.” Brushing your now messy hair, thanks to Aaron, out of your face he leaned down to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead, “A cute sap at that.”

You grinned while cuddling into him rather thankful your uncalculated risk paid off in an incredible way, “Only for you Aaron.”

He wrapped his arms all the way around pulling you in close, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade

[blakeprentiss]

heating up in here

hotchniss alaska au

warnings: smut, case talk, the usual

a/n: this got looooong oops ! for the sake of the story we’re pretending they weren’t matchy matchy and that she is in fact wearing his sweater

(gifs by @aaronwhorechner )

**

“i’m not sleeping with reid.”

emily stifled a laugh, watching as penelope instantly claimed dibs on sharing with morgan.

“come on, spence, we can share.” jj spoke, placing an arm around the young agent to turn him towards the stairs. and then there were three.

rossi wordlessly looked between emily and aaron before sticking his hand out for a key. 4 rooms, 7 people; the math wasn’t hard, there was one single room. and dave knew he had it to himself.

“guess it’s you and me tonight,” hotch said, picking up his bag and making his way towards the room. emily followed in tow, doing her best to keep up.

“you think they have heat?” she asked as she trailed behind, arms rubbing against herself as best she could to keep warm. emily was a cold woman. not emotionally, well, not anymore, but physically cold almost all of the time. needless to say, she was not doing too well in the alaskan weather.

“let’s hope,” hotch said, stopping at the hotel room door. he unlocked the lock, taking a little longer than emily pleased.

“what, did you forget how to open a door?” she teased.

“it’s an old hotel, prentiss,” hotch sighed, finally pushing the door open. “the lock probably hasn’t been changed in decades.” he walked in, flicking on the light and stopping in his tracks. which, naturally, caused emily to walk straight into his backside.

“ow, hotch!” emily yelped, her hand reaching for his shoulder to steady herself. she was about to ask why the hell he stopped walking two steps into the room when she noticed what caught his attention: the lone, king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

“you can have it,” hotch said, moving in further and digging clothes out of his go-bag. “you get cold.” emily rolled her eyes, grabbing her own pajamas from her bag.

“don’t be stupid, there’s no couch and you’ll kill your back laying on the floor every night.” she reasoned, watching him make his way to the bathroom. “we’re adults, we’ll be fine.”

“yeah,” she heard hotch call as he shut the door. emily dug through her go-bag, grabbing her pajamas and groaning. the case had been called in hours after they returned from their previous one, meaning she hadn’t had time to properly pack her bag. which meant she had no sweatshirt. sighing, she threw on her sweats and t-shirt and waited for hotch to be done in the bathroom.

he walked out moments later, breath catching in his throat when he caught sight of emily. his eyes flitted down to her chest, nipples visible through the fabric of her shirt. clearing his throat, he looked back up at her and spoke. “no sweatshirt?”

“forgot to pack one,” she mumbled, walking into the bathroom and closing the door. splashing water onto her face, emily sighed as she resigned herself to sharing a bed with her boss. her very attractive boss, no less.

stepping out, her eyes landed on hotch, sitting in bed looking over the case file. he looked up, eyes meeting hers momentarily before reaching behind him. “here,” he said, tossing his brown quarter-zip sweater towards her. “it’ll keep you warm tonight.”

emily smiled gratefully, pulling on the warm fabric and watching it pool around her arms. “thank you,” she mumbled softly, climbing into the bed next to him. “goodnight hotch.”

“goodnight prentiss,” hotch replied, taking a moment to look at her before shutting the light off. god, she looked so good in his sweater. he laid there for a moment, the darkness and silence of the room really putting into perspective his situation. he was sharing a bed with his subordinate, arguably his most attractive one, in the middle of alaska. truly not how hotch had expected his day to end.

emily, meanwhile, had the same thought about her boss looming in the back of her mind. however, she couldn’t bear to focus on that, instead channeling all of her energy into not shivering. as warm as hotch’s sweater was - and fuck, it was warm - she was still freezing. arms wrapped around herself, doing her best to not hog the covers, emily tried her hardest to keep warm and still.

it was no use though, hotch could feel her body twitching every so often. plus, her teeth were chattering so frequently that he thought they would chip. he debated for a moment whether he should sacrifice his own warmth and give her the blanket, or cross the line and give her his embrace. and as much as he wanted to just give her the blanket, he didn’t want to be cold either.

she felt the bed dip first, feeling hotch roll to his other side. then, she felt the warmth encapsulate her body as his arm wrapped against her. finally, she felt his body directly against her back as he pulled her flush to him. oh. she was definitely warm now. their close proximity meant that when he whispered to her, his words went straight to her ear, hot breath tickling her skin. “think you can sleep now?”

no. absolutely not. “yeah,” she whispered back, making a feeble attempt to relax her body and find a comfortable position. instead, however, she found her ass pressed directly against him. she was sure her skin was fucking boiling at this point, cursing herself internally for even moving half an inch. she felt hotch breathing heavily against her, and all she could do was pray he was asleep and close her eyes.

he was not asleep, instead focusing everything on trying not to get rock hard against emily’s ass. unfortunately for hotch, no amount of steady breathing could stop his dick from growing harder. feeling the sudden warmth on her ass, emily smirked to herself. “think you’ll be able to sleep now?” she whispered, stifling a giggle.

“emily,” hotch groaned, his tone somewhere between a moan and a warning. keeping her lower body in place, she turned her head around to meet hotch’s eyes. the smirk fell from her face when she was met with nothing but lust from the man in front of her. gasping, she felt hotch’s hand wrap around her waist, snaking its way up bottom of the sweater.

“aaron,” she whispered, a moan catching in her throat. her free arm wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. she could feel his breath on her lips, inches away from making contact with her own.

and that’s when they heard a scream.

***

“his name’s craig ramey. fisherman.”

the team gathered around the latest victim, all clad in their pajamas and jackets. as the discussion about the unsub’s accelerated schedule picked up, emily’s attention only strayed further. she could practically feel hotch’s eyes boring into her cheek, and if she was still enough, she could almost feel his breath on her skin.

aaron was doing all he could to maintain his professional manner in this moment, but all thoughts led him back to emily. he forced his eyes on the victim in front, around the team, at the cops, but they always found their way back to her.

“it’s still late,” hotch spoke suddenly, clearing his voice. “i’m sure none of us got much sleep, why don’t we all take a couple hours to rest and get ready for the morning?” it wasn’t a question, and he knew there wouldn’t be any rest in his room.

the team trickled apart, each making their way back to their respective rooms. emily stopped at hers, waiting for aaron to make his way from back of the group. he opened the door, and when emily stepped inside it was only a matter of seconds before the door was locked and she was pressed against it.

“aaron,” she gasped, arms wrapping around his neck to stabilize herself. he looked into her eyes, pupils blow.

“what, sweetheart?” he asked, voice about a whisper.

“kiss me.”

and kiss her he did. lips against each other, breathy moans traveling from emily’s throat to aaron’s mouth. she could feel his stubble against her face, turning her on more than she already was. his hips pushed towards her, causing emily to gasp when she felt his cock press against her pulsing core. aaron pulled back, lips beginning to nip along her neck. one hand braced her hip against the wall, the other finding its way through her layers of clothing.

“look so fucking good in my sweater, baby,” he muttered, eliciting a moan from emily as he twisted her nipple. “gonna fuck you so good while you wear it.”

“aaron,” she whined, his name apparently being the only word her brain could form. she released one hand from his hair, bringing it down to fumble with his jeans. before she could even get them unbuttoned, however, he was pressing his hips forward, cock straining against her hand. “fuck,” she groaned. “need you so badly.”

“is that so?” he asked, emily practically feeling the smirk radiating off of him. “take me then.”

she didn’t need to be told twice. she had his pants and boxers dropped in seconds. eyes blowing wide at the size of his cock. emily sunk to her knees, taking her time to work him with her hand. “emily,” hotch moaned, almost as if it was a warning. it was then she wrapped her lips around him, moaning at the string of curses he muttered while she swirled her tongue around his tip. inch by inch, she took him in her mouth, jaw aching from the size of him. she bobbed back and forth, increasing speed ever so slowly and wrapping a hand around what couldn’t fit.

hotch looked down, pupils blown at the sight of emily beneath him. he let out a groan, even more turned on when he felt her gag around him. they locked eyes, emily watching his expressions as she moved back and forth. it became too much, then, hotch tapping her cheek twice as a sign to release.

“too good at that,” he murmured, thumb wiping away the stray tears that fell from her eyes. “would’ve cum if you kept going, and i’m saving that for when i’m inside you.”

it was emily’s turn to groan, which no sooner turned into a squeal as hotch swept her off her feet and placed her on the bed. true to his word, he removed all her clothing, save for his sweater. taking of the remnants of his clothes, aaron climbed on top of her and pressed two fingers to her lips. instinctively, she opened her mouth, sucking the digits nicely until he pulled back.

within seconds those same fingers delved into her wet, soaking cunt. emily moaned, to which aaron placed his free hand on top of her mouth. “can’t have you being too loud, can we?” she shook her head, mouth opening and closing against his palm as aaron’s pace picked up.

“aaron, oh my god,” emily whispered, nearly biting his palm to keep from screaming. he smiled, planing a kiss to her head as he added a third finger inside her. she groaned, head pushing away from his hand and dropping to his shoulder. “fuck, aaron, please,” she whined, feeling herself getting closer to the edge.

“come for me, baby,” he muttered in her ear, groaning softly as he felt her tip over the edge. “good girl, so good for me.” he fucked her through her orgasm until it was too much, emily removing his hand and panting into his chest.

“holy fuck,” she breathed, slowly catching her breath. she looked up at hotch, meeting his soft smile with one of her own.

“you okay?” he asked.

“yeah,” she said. “so okay.”

“good.” he didn’t waste a second before pushing her back onto the bed, spreading her legs as he followed and lined up inside her. she gasped, locking eyes with him.

“please,” she whispered, staring at his hard, leaking cock at the edge of her equally soaked cunt.

“oh god, emily,” he moaned, watching his dick disappear under his sweater and into her pussy. “so fucking tight, so fucking good.”

“aaron,” emily whine, relishing in how good the pain was as his dick stretched out her cunt. she didn’t even want time to adjust to his size, she needed him to fuck her. “move.”

he wasted no time, fucking her with a rapid pace. “oh, emily,” he moaned, a string of curses following under his breath. emily groaned at the sensation, his tip hitting her perfectly. aaron looked up and felt himself getting closer as he watched emily, her mouth agape as she bit back a whimper. “so good for me,” he said, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. “i’m so close.”

“inside,” she responded, no hesitation. “please.”

“of course,” he whispered, picking up the pace and moving impossibly faster. he felt emily’s orgasm before she did, her moans combined with the clenching around his cock pulling his own. he spilt into her, stilling as they came down from their high.

he pulled out, laying down next to emily and turning to look at her. she turned to him, a soft smile on her face that matched his. “what?” she asked.

“you’re beautiful,” he responded, pushing her grown-out bangs out of her face. “pretty girl.” she blushed as he planted a kiss to her cheek, pulling her into his arms.

“you’re not so bad yourself,” she spoke, her voice muffled against his chest. “can i keep the sweater?” she asked a moment later, feeling his chest vibrate with laughter.

“for the rest of the trip, sure.” he said. “i have others i can wear. but i want it back, that’s my favorite one.”

“yeah,” emily sighed. “me too.”

[loomiseater]

Baby?

warnings: smut ofc!, oral f! receiving, talks of baby, Hayley mentioned at some point, and dom Hotch.

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

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Written: June 9th, 2024

Published: June 10th, 2024

Summary: Aaron gives you your Mother’s Day gift.

wc: 1,992

You wake up to an empty bed, you were shocked because Aaron loves sleeping in on his days off. You wanted to stay in bed but the smell of breakfast hit your nose. It smelt really good.

Just as you were about to get out of bed, Jack comes running into your shared bedroom jumping onto the bed. “Happy Mother’s Day!” He exclaims as he hugs you really tight.

It was so adorable you wanted to cry at his cuteness. You hug him back even tight and place kisses all over his little face as he giggles. “We made breakfast for you!” Jack says as you make a surprised face.

“Really?! What did you two make?” You ask happily as he smiles. “You gotta wait until dad brings the food” he answered. You nod your head and pat the side of the bed for Jack to sit.

“You excited for today, buddy?” You ask as he cheerfully nods his head. “I can’t wait for all the food and to see my all my cousins!” Jack said as you giggled. “I can’t wait either, bud” you respond, placing a kiss to his forehead.

Jack started talking about random stuff that kids talk about as Aaron walked into the room. You almost teared up at the sight. He looked so domestic. His messy morning hair, sweats, and a plain t-shirt.

“Happy Mother’s Day, baby” he says before giving you a kiss. You were both interrupted by Jack’s “ewws” and fake throwing up sounds. Aaron just laughed a his childish behavior. “That’s disgusting!” Jack said before hurrying out of the room.

After he left out the room, Aaron had closed the door so you both could have some privacy. “So what did you make?” You ask as he brings your plate over to the bed. “I made French Toast, topped with whip cream, I also made scrambled eggs, bacon, and freshly squeezed orange juice” he answers with a proud smile on his face.

“This looks amazing, babe” you replied, looking in awe at the food. “You deserve it” he said. “You must really want some tonight” you said as he tried to hide his smirk.

“Please?” He begged as you let out a little chuckle. “I just woke up” you whined as you grabbed some of the whip cream and sprayed it in your mouth. “Mhmm, that is so good” you said as your eyes rolled back some.

“You know exactly what you’re doing” he said as he eyed you. “You want some?” You ask teasingly as his jaw tightened.

You’re pulling your shirt off as your boobs are now free for him to see due to not wearing a bra. You spray the cream all over your chest while moaning. “You test me everyday, woman” he says before leaning and sucking your breasts along with licking the whip cream off.

As he got done licking it all off he placed a kiss on each nipple, then moving on to take off your shorts. He was happy to see that you weren’t wearing any panties.

You lay back with a smile on your face as you preparing for him to eat you out but instead of feeling his tongue, you felt..whip cream? It was a cold yet satisfying feeling on your pussy.

“Aaron? What are you doing?” You ask nervously. “Eating my favorite meal” he replied back nonchalantly as you raised your eyebrow.

He slowly licked the whip cream off of your slit and it sent pleasuring chills through your body. Aaron has never done anything like this before, that’s why you’re so shocked at his actions.

As he licked the whip cream off he began sucking each lip and your hands gripped his scalp really hard. “Yes!” You shout but it was muffled due to Aaron’s hand. His reflex’s were quick, as soon as he’s saw your mouth open his hand flew straight to it. You completely forgot that Jack was still in the house.

“Gotta be quiet, baby” he said lowly as you began pouting. He began thrusting his tongue in out of you, he enjoyed seeing you like this, how you submit to him, and how you crumble beneath him.

“Fuck! Your pussy is so sweet” he said before diving in deeper and spreading your legs further. He always loved how you tasted but the whip cream made it even better.

As he dove deeper into you with his mouth, you felt his nose rub against your clit. “Feels so-good!” You said in a choked out sob. The pleasure was beginning to become too much, but Aaron didn’t care.

He shook his head side to side while still eating you out, you wanted to scream. He’s never acted like this before. “Cum on daddy’s face” he said lowly. It was like your body just did what he said on command.

You came all over his face, eventually squirting due to him rubbing your clit during your orgasm. He let his face get covered in it.

He rode up from in between your legs and up to your face before making out with you. His face was glistening in your juices, you could even taste yourself while kissing. You broke away from the kiss to catch some air.

“You’ve never been like this during sex, Aaron. The sex has always been amazing but this-this was something else” you explained, still out of breath. He laid down next to you with his face buried in between your breasts.

“I want a baby with you” his says with his voice all muffled. “I thought you said you weren’t ready for another kid? You said Jack was enough” you explained as he shook his head. “I changed my mind. I gave Hayley something so special, and that was Jack. I want to be able to give you the same thing” he stated.

Your face softened as tears fell down your face. “Hayley passed away two years ago, there’s no rush into having another one” you replied softly. “I’m not rushing into it Y/n. I think you’d look beautiful with your round stomach full of my child” he said before placing a kiss to your stomach.

“I’ve always wanted to have a child but I didn’t want to rush you, and I wouldn’t want Jack to feel some type of way” you said sincerely.

“Jack has been wanting a sibling since forever, he’ll be fine” Aaron said surely. You thought about it and maybe he was right. Hayley got to have that special thing, why can’t you?

“We can start making that baby right now” Aaron said as he picked you up and placed you on his lap as you giggled. “Right now?” You ask again, just to tease him. “Yes, right now” he replied as he groped your ass. “But first, I really want some head” he says with a smirk across his face.

“Whatever you say goes, my love” you say to him before getting on your knees and taking his dick out. He was already hard with pre cum leaking out his red tip.

You took him whole as he let out a groan.

[ivyflowers13]

Bath time! 🧼 🛁

[hotchscoffeecup]

come home with me

pairing: emily prentiss/aaron hotchner

rating: t

category: angst, hurt/comfort with a happy ending

word count: 7.2k

summary: An alternate version of "Faceless, Nameless," where Foyet leaves Hotch to bleed out in his apartment and Emily finds him clinging to life. Her quick response saves his life but causes her to question her own decisions in the hours leading up to finding him. Hotchniss. Hurt/comfort with sweet ending. Some angst.

Emily yawns and wishes she’d taken that second cup of coffee for the road this morning when she’d left the office. As the elevator dings, she steps out onto the carpeted hallway. If he slept through his alarm while the rest of us are out working this case, I’m going to kill him, she thinks as she stifles another yawn.

She checks her phone and surprise, there’s no new texts, voicemails, or emails from Hotch. She selects his contact and hits dial, bringing the phone to her ear as she scans the identical doors for his apartment number.

You’ve reached SSA Aaron Hotchner— Emily groans out loud and snaps her phone shut, cutting off his voicemail, her irritation starting to border on anger. This wasn’t like Hotch, ignoring his phone. Sure they’d all been exhausted last night, but to the point he sleeps this late into the morning and doesn’t bother to answer his phone? No, something wasn’t right. She could feel it in her gut.

She should’ve gone home with him when he offered, but she knew how they operated when a case was over and they settled in for the night. One glass of wine would lead to another and, well, very little sleep would be had for either of them. She’d been so physically, mentally, and emotionally drained after Canada…just the thought of it now felt like a weight dragging down her shoulders. No, she’d needed to be alone; to shower and wash off the sick and twisted vestiges of the horrors she and the team had discovered on that pig farm.

After turning Hotch down, she’d smiled at him and winked and told him they could go and get a late breakfast once they’d had the opportunity to catch up on sleep. Now, a part of her was glad they’d caught a case. He probably would’ve slept through breakfast, anyway, she thought irritably. Ok, she wasn’t actually glad they’d caught a case. This one was a doozy and they needed every pair of eyes they could get if they were going to keep the doctor and his son safe; and they were running out of time. She hated cases that involved kids, no matter how old. They didn’t deserve the trauma that would result from having their own or their loved ones' lives threatened.

Finally, Hotch’s apartment comes into view. She tucks her phone into her jacket pocket and rapps her knuckles against the door.

“Hotch, it’s Emily,” she calls and knocks again. She pauses, straining her ears for the sound of shuffling footsteps. Her brow furrows when there is only continued silence.

“Hotch?” she repeats, this time there’s a question in the way she says his name. She knocks again, harder. Rolling her eyes, she digs her phone back out of her pocket and redials his number. A phone rings on the other side of the door, but there is no sound that suggests someone was moving toward it.

Emily’s stomach turns as dread begins to pool in her belly. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end as a sinking feeling takes hold. Her hand drifts to her gun instinctively; her thumb hooking over the rotating hood and releasing her sidearm. As she removes the weapon, she uses her other hand to reach for the doorknob. Before she even attempts to turn it, she knows it will open.

Hotch never leaves his door unlocked.

She pushes the door open and readies her weapon, quickly moving side to side as she sweeps the room for an immediate threat. Hotch’s keys, phone, and bag are on the coffee table and sofa as if he’d just arrived home but she didn’t see him in her initial glances over the open concept apartment. As she continues her sweep, her ears pick up on the sound of soft wheezing.

That same sinking feeling grows as she crosses through the living room and it’s then she sees the bullet hole in the wall and the glass shattered on the floor. She pushes through the feeling of dread, effectively burying it knowing she needs to be alert and prepared for whatever lay beyond the sofa. Hoping for an incapacitated unsub, but knowing better, her world still shatters as she takes in the sight of her friend, supervisor, and lover unconscious and bloody on the linoleum tiled floor.

She drops to her knees and feels for his pulse with two fingers. It’s faint, but there. “Hotch,” she calls his name and holsters her gun, determining the assailant is no longer present.

His dark lashes flutter. “That’s it,” she says encouragingly, “Open your eyes, Aaron. It’s me. It’s Emily.”

“Emily,” he whispers weakly.

She pulls out her phone again and dials 911. Placing it on speaker, she sets the phone down next to Hotch and begins unbuttoning his shirt to further assess the damage.

The operator answers and Emily cuts them off. “This is Agent Emily Prentiss with the FBI.” She grimaces as she haphazardly untucks the rest of his shirt and pushes the fabric out of her way. “I am at The Langham apartment complex, apartment 121. I’m here with SSA Aaron Hotchner. He’s suffered multiple stab wounds. I need paramedics and a crime scene unit sent here immediately.”

Her eyes rapidly scan the woulds, trying to assess which is the worst. God, there is so much blood. Shrugging out of her blazer, she balls the fabric in her fists and applies pressure to the two wounds that appear deepest, those to his abdomen and chest.

Aaron moans and she apologizes. “I know it hurts, just hold on. Help is coming.”

“Paramedics are seven minutes out,” dispatch states over the receiver.

She wants so desperately to hold his face in her hands, to be comforting him instead of causing more pain, but she needs to get the bleeding under control until help arrives.

Hotch’s lashes flutter again and his head lolls to the side where she is kneeling. “Foyet,” he breathes.

Emily’s eyes widen. “The Reaper is here, in DC?”

“I don’t—” his breath rattles as he wheezes. “He was waiting for me.”

“Did he say anything?” She asks as she adjusts her grip on the jacket she’s using to staunch the bleeding, of which is already seeping through the fabric. She curses under her breath, though the sound of sirens can finally be heard in the distance.

“Emily, if I don’t ma—”

“Don’t,” she interrupts, her voice catching. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Aaron. You’re going to be fine.”

The sirens are deafening now and she knows they’re pulling up outside. She smiles and releases a short laugh. “They’re here,” she says. “Hold on, Hotch. Just a little longer.”

He blinks slowly, trying to focus on her. “He told me I should’ve,” his eyes close momentarily and then open, “that I should’ve made a deal.”

Her brow pinches, but she doesn’t have time to push further as the paramedics come crashing through the door.

“Over here!” she calls.

Immediately they try to take over. “Ma’am, it’s ok,” the female medic says. “You can take your hands off of him.”

It takes a moment for her voice to register, but Emily does as she is told. She releases the pressure she’d been holding to his injuries, and rolls back on to her heels into a standing position to give them space.

“Heart rate is elevated, pressure is dropping.” The medic evaluates. “Start an IV and hang pressors.”

Emily watches them work, her pulse pounding in her ears. While one pushes the IV into his arm, the other fastens a brace around his neck before moving on to snip away what’s left of his shirt and begin packing the knife wounds with gauze. It’s like the world is moving in slow motion. She doesn’t even register when her phone rings until the medic brings her attention to it. She blinks hard and apologizes. She bends down and scoops it into her hand, smearing blood across the screen as she flips it open. She curses as Spencer’s name flashes under the smudge. She turns her wrist to glance at her watch. It’s been forty five minutes and she told Reid that she’d be back in under thirty.

She wastes no time explaining the situation. Reid reports understanding. Before she hangs up she says, “Reid, it’s bad.” For the first time since finding him, tears choke her voice. “I’ll call Penelope at the hospital, but do not tell the others. You all need to focus on the case.”

Emily hastily hangs up and moves to follow the paramedics as they maneuver the gurney through the apartment.

They stop though as Hotch asks them to wait, his voice imperceptible. His hand falls limply off the gurney and Emily steps in, taking it into hers.

“What did he leave?” he asks, though his voice is muddled by the oxygen mask that’s been placed over his mouth and nose. “What did he take?”

“I-I don’t,” she stammers in response. The Reaper’s profile flashes through her mind’s eyes. The glasses, the wedding ring, he always takes and he always gives. “I don’t know, Hotch.”

She nods to the medics, signaling them to keep moving. Emily doesn’t drop his hand. As long as she can feel the warmth of his skin on hers, she knows he’s alive. That he’s still here.

Crime techs and police units are pulling up to the building as they load Hotch into the back of the ambulance. Emily watches on from her seat, anxiety clawing at her insides as she does her best to stay out of the paramedics’ way as they continue to work on stabilizing Hotch.

The blaring sirens echo in her head, rattling around and bouncing off of her skull. It’s not a sound she’s unfamiliar with, but today it’s drone seems more of a death march than a rally cry. The cavalry isn’t coming to save the day, but rather fleeing from death’s grip.

The ambulance comes to a grating stop and the medics waste no time flinging open the doors and pushing Hotch out. Emily follows quickly and as doctors and nurses swarm the gurney, arms reach out to halt her movement.

Emily cranes her neck around the woman that’s stopped her, pushing against her as she tries to follow the team of doctors that have disappeared behind two swinging double doors.

“No, I have to follow him. I’m an FBI agent,” she states, attempting to leverage some form of authority over the situation.

“Ma’am, he’s being rushed to surgery. I need to make sure you’re alright. Where are you injured?”

Emily’s face screws up, her lips turning and brow furrowing. “Injured? I’m not—” It’s then she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the lobby window. Her face is smeared with Hotch’s blood. Like pieces of a puzzle falling into place, her eyes drop to her hands, which are covered front and back with blood. The red substance stains the skin on her arms as well as the entire front of the dressy tank top she’d been wearing under her blazer. “It’s not mine,” she finally says.

The nurse’s face softens and Emily hates the way her eyes fill with sympathy. “Is there anyone I can call?”

Yeah, about 7, but they’re all occupied or on death’s door.

“No,” she says. “I can just,” she rubs her temple and takes a deep breath. “Where’s the closest waiting area?”

The nurse tsks and shakes her head. “No, no, come on,” she says, gesturing for Emily to follow her. “You can shower in the locker room. I’ll get a pair of scrubs for you to wear and a bag to store your clothes in.”

Emily thanks her and follow silently, twisting and turning through the many hallways until she reaches the door labeled “Women’s Locker Room.”

“There’s soaps and hair products in each shower. I’ll be right back. Go on in. I’ll leave everything on the bench for you.”

Emily nods her thanks and ducks inside. As she passes by the long stretch of mirror behind the row of sinks, her stomach lurches. It did look like she’d been on the receiving end of Foyet’s knife with how much blood covered the front of her body.

She tears her gaze away from her sullied figure and turns toward the showers. Slowly, she sinks down onto one of the wooden benches. Resting her elbows on her knees, she drops her head into her hands. Thick, hot tears blur her vision as she takes a shuddering breath.

2 minutes, she thinks. 2 minutes and then you pull yourself together.

No sooner does the thought cross her mind does the dam break and the tears free flow down her cheeks in thick, hot lines. She takes deep gasping breaths as the sobs rattle her body. Her mascara bleeds into her eyes, stinging them. Using the backs of her hands, she presses them to her eyes, wiping the tears away and no doubt smearing blood and makeup across her face in the process.

She blows out a breath and forces herself into a seated position. “He’s going to be alright,” she affirms to no one but herself. She stands on shaky legs and feels the weight of exhaustion slowly creeping into her muscles. She kicks out of her boots and undresses.

She swipes at the faucet inside the shower and doesn’t wait for it to warm up before standing under the icy stream of water. She gasps and sputters but keeps her face under the flow. Once the water begins to heat up, she opens her eyes and glances down at her feet. Blood sleuces down her legs in pink rivulets, swirling and disappearing down the drain.

She pumps the lavender scented shower gel into her hand from the dispenser on the wall and scrubs her skin until it’s red and raw. She works it under her nails and up and down her limbs. It feels like it’s stained her permanently, his blood, inked onto her like a tattoo. After washing her hair, she cuts the water off and squeezes the water from her dark locks. She pulls the shower curtain open and just as the nurse had said, everything had been left for her in a neat pile on the bench. The nurse had even bagged her dirty clothes for her, not like Emily would try to salvage them. She dresses quickly in the pair of blue scrubs. They're a little big on her, but it feels so good to not be wearing clothes soaked with Hotch’s blood.

Slowly, but surely, she retraces her steps back to the waiting room and the charge nurse at the desk tells her Hotch is still in surgery. Of course he is. It had only been twenty five minutes since she’d arrived.

At least if he’s still in surgery, he’s still alive, she thinks, though the thought is still far from comforting.

Reluctantly, Emily crosses the waiting room and sinks into one of the plastic covered chairs settling in for a painfully long afternoon that smelled like antiseptic.

•

It bewilders her to look down at the hard tile floor and not see a path worn down to the cement underneath. How long had she been pacing this same stretch of floor in the waiting room? Her thumb nail aches from where she’d been anxiously gnawing it down to the quick, a bad habit she’d fought for years to quit, but in her most vulnerable moments came back.

She glances down at her watch, of which she’d been ninety eight percent successful at cleaning free of Hotch’s blood. She’d have to send it out to get the bits stuck in between the interlocking pieces of the wrist band cleaned out. It had been three hours. She blows out an exasperated breath.

Surely there would have been some update by now. What if he’s—

She’s unable to finish the thought when a doctor pushes through the double doors where Hotch had disappeared behind earlier.

She perks up and sends up a silent prayer that he’s on his way to see her. He wears a surgeon’s cap, covering his short blonde hair, and as he meets her eyes, she knows it’s the doctor that operated on Hotch.

“Well?” she asks, her voice shaking with the anticipation of news. “How is he?”

The doctor approaches and slows to a stop in front of her. “It was touch and go there for a while. He lost a lot of blood. We were able to stabilize him, but it’ll take some time for him to heal. He’ll be out of commission for a month, maybe longer.”

“Can I see him?” Emily asks, eyes pleading.

A glimmer of sympathy flashes across the surgeon’s eyes. He nods. “He’s unconscious now. When he wakes, he’ll likely be out of it. He’s under the influence of some pretty strong painkillers.”

Emily swallows and nods as she inhales. “I understand.”

The doctor’s eyes shift then and Emily immediately realizes he’s got more to say. “Is there something more I should know?”

“Well,” he begins. “When you brought him, you confirmed with the paramedics and nurses that that is indeed, Aaron Hotchner.”

Emily’s features twist, puzzled by his question. “Yes?”

“We found this when we cut his clothes off of him.” He reaches into his pocket and passes Emily a bifold badge identical to hers. She flips it open, eyes widening as she reads Derek Morgan’s name and her mind flashes to several weeks earlier when he’d lost his credentials. George Foyet had stolen them from him.

“Thank you,” she says and tucks the badge into the scrubs pocket. “Derek is a member of our team. This relates to a case we’re working on. I’m afraid I can’t say more. Please,” she says, her words now a plea, “take me to him.”

The doctor hesitates, like he might say more, but he doesn’t. “Follow me, then.”

•

Her eyelids are so heavy, but she refuses to fall asleep in case he wakes up. She takes another sip from the now lukewarm hospital coffee. It’s bitter on her tongue and her stomach roils as it travels down her esophagus. When was the last time she ate? She glances at the clock and it’s pushing 3:00PM. School would be getting out soon. Her thoughts wander to Reid and the team, and if they’d had any luck with locating the unsub threatening the doctor and his son. How could this be the same day she’d woken up on? It felt like it had been days since she said goodnight and kissed Hotch goodbye after he walked her to her car last night. It was only this morning since they were supposed to go to breakfast and enjoy the rare day off from cases and unsubs and torture and murder.

She holds Hotch’s loose hand in hers, the feel of his skin and its warmth a comfort. She leans forward, elbows on her knees, and rotates his hand gently to hold it against her cheek. Closing her eyes, she leans into his palm and kisses the skin there gently. “I should’ve gone home with you,” she whispers, “Maybe I could’ve done something.”

She ponders the likelihood of that as she sits there watching the rise and fall of his chest, the steady beeping of the heart monitor pulsing rhythmically beside her. Now and then the blood pressure cuff around his arm hisses as it contracts and releases. What were the odds that her being there would’ve changed the outcome? The Reaper had almost exclusively killed couples, but those were in smaller enclosed settings. He took advantage of couples by trapping them in their vehicles, minimizing their ability to escape. Hotch might have still taken off his gun, but would she have? Would Foyet have even had the chance to get the shot off? Or would that bullet have gone into her instead of the wall?

“You’re going to drive yourself crazy, Emily,” she whispers to herself. She knows there is no sense in reviewing the ‘what if’s,’ but it seems impossible when her entire support system is unavailable and she’s keeping this monumental secret from them.

“Just wake up, Hotch,” she quietly pleads before pressing another kiss to his hand. “I just need you to be okay.”

Her eyes flare as she feels the slightest twitch against her ring finger. She sits up straighter and holds his hand in both hers.

“Hotch?”

Her breathing stills. Did she imagine that? She squeezes his hand in hers.

“It’s Emily, Aaron. I’m here.”

Faintly, his fingers press into hers. An excited bubble of laughter escapes her lips as relief floods through her veins. She kisses his knuckles. “Thank God,” she whispers.

“Emi—” his voice is hoarse as he starts, but doesn’t finish her name. His eyes don’t open, but his head tilts in her direction.

“I’m right here, Hotch,” she says, shushing him. “I’m not going anywhere. Just, just rest.”

Hotch hums a response but doesn’t articulate anything further than that.

“Emily!” Garcia’s voice is filled with both pain and relief.

She sits up and gingerly lays Hotch’s hand back down on the bed. “Penelope!” Emily stands up and quickly closes the space between them and pulls her into a tight embrace.

“Oh, honey,” Penelope soothes as she rubs a hand up and down Emily’s back. “I’m so sorry you were dealing with this all by yourself.” She pulls away and looks her up and down from behind the lenses of her purple glasses.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Emily says. Her brow pinches. “But the team, the case—”

Penelope’s pink-painted lips curve into a smile as she holds up a manicured finger, cutting her off. “Not to worry, my sweet girl. The case is closed. The team saved the day. All is good in the world.” Penelope purses her lips as she pauses. “Well, except for the part where Agent Hotchner was treated like mincemeat and Reid was shot.”

Emily’s head snaps up. “Reid was what?” she shouts.

Penelope’s eyes widen and the glittery green eyeshadow she’s applied to her eyelids shines under the fluorescent hospital lighting. She waves her hands in front of her body, the multi-colored bangles on her wrist jingling as she does so. “No, no, no, no, no,” she repeats again and again. “He’s fine, he’s fine. He caught one in the leg, but he’s ok. I think he’s being patched up down the hall.”

Emily is already halfway out the door as she calls over her shoulder, “Maybe lead with that next time!”

Penelope’s high-heeled clad feet click and clack as she teeters after her. “Sorry!” she cries as she catches up to her. “So much has happened today I’m just glad that everyone is ok, well, as ok as one can be given the circumstances of the last 72 hours.”

Emily inclines her head to the side and blows air out through her nose. “You could say that again.” Without pausing to peer inside and be sure she’s in the right room, she enters the only other hospital room with an open door, the sound of voices telling her she’s found the right place.

Morgan, Rossi, and JJ stand around the hospital. They’re faces all bear surprised expressions and confusion. Somehow she finds it in herself to crack a joke, “Guys, I get it. My Prada boots don’t match the scrubs, it’s not that bad.”

Morgan breaks apart from the semi-circle that’s formed around Spencer, who also looks incredibly happy to see her despite his injured leg, and pulls her into a hug. “You could’ve called,” he chastises.

Emily rolls her eyes as she pulls away and transitions into JJ’s open arms. “You would’ve made the same call, Morgan. He grunts in response and she smirks to herself.

“How’s Hotch?” Spencer asks, using his fists to push himself into a sitting position without bending his braced leg.

Emily blows out a breath. “He’s in pretty bad shape, I won’t lie. What do we have on Foyet? Anything?”

Rossi shakes his head. “Nothing yet. Crime techs are still going over the apartment.”

“Someone needs to tell them to look for anything that looks like it might be missing; disturbed dust, signs something was torn from something, anything.”

“What are you getting at, Emily?” Derek asks.

Her gaze locks on his as she reaches into her pocket. Without looking, she passes his credentials to him. His eyes shimmer with concern as he takes his badge from her. “Where did you find this?”

“The surgeon,” she gestures aimlessly toward the day. “It was in his pants pocket. Foyet must have put it there after he,” she pauses, voice wavering.

“Ok,” Morgan says, tucking his badge into his pocket. “Thanks, Emily. Rossi, can you?”

“Already on it,” Rossi answers, phone up to his ear. Someone answers almost immediately and he begins to deliver instructions to them regarding this development.

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness and nausea crashes over her. Emily takes a step and stumbles, catching herself on the rail of Spencer’s hospital bed.

“Emily!” Spencer and JJ shout in unison, though JJ is the one to catch her, holding her up with a supportive arm.

Emily blinks twice, hard. The wave passes and she straightens, shrugging out of JJ’s arms though JJ keeps her hand on her back just in case.

“Prentiss, when’s the last time you had something to eat or drink?” Morgan asks, and he sounds more like her father, than her friend.

Her eyes search the room for a clock and quickly land on the digital red numbers blinking up from a small box on the bedside table. 6:04 PM blinks back at her. “What time did we land last night?” she asks.

Morgan releases an exasperated sigh. “That’s it, I’m taking you home.” He reaches for her arm and Emily recoils. “No, Morgan. I’m fine. I need to stay here. Hotch—”

“Will be fine,” he finishes. His brown eyes are hard, but there’s concern in them too. “You’re no good to him, or anyone here if you pass out. Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Emily emerges from her bathroom smelling like her own vanilla-scented shower gel and floral shampoo. She pulls her robe around her and pulls the ties around her waist, securing it at her navel. She smells a combination of aromatic spices and exits the bedroom to find Morgan closing the door to her apartment. In his hand is a white plastic bag, its sides fit to bursting from the number of styrofoam takeout containers stacked inside.

He smiles, flashing a row of white teeth as he does so. He holds up the bag and shakes it, wiggling his hips as he does so. “I got your favorite,” he sing-songs. “We are going to have an Indian feast. We got butter chicken. We got chana masala. We got paneer, and girl, we got enough naan to last us a lifetime.”

Emily smiles, though it feels almost wrong to do so when Hotch and Spence are in the hospital and Foyet is still out there.

As if reading her thoughts, Morgan shakes his head and drops the food on her coffee table. “No,” he says as he shakes his head. “Nope, come on,” he takes her by the hand and guides her to the sofa. “You are allowed to eat and rest. Hotch is stable and Penelope is knitting the world’s longest scarf at his bedside as we speak. JJ just texted me and they’re taking Spencer home now.” He plops on the couch and pulls her down to sit beside him. “You’re only job right now,” he says as digs in his pocket and pulls out a plastic-wrapped set of disposable silverware, “is to eat, drink, and sleep.”

Emily wakes with a start. Very seldom did she fall asleep on the couch. The credits to How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days roll on the flat screen. She pushes herself into a seated position and that’s when she realizes she’d fallen asleep on Morgan’s shoulder. He stirs but doesn’t wake as she stands and picks up the now very empty takeout boxes. She crinkles the aluminum foil linings as quietly as she can as she pushes the trash down into the bin in her kitchen. The headache she’d had when they’d left the hospital is gone, thanks to the many glasses of water Morgan has pushed in front of her. She flips off the kitchen light and crosses back into the living room where she picks up the remote to turn off the TV. Pulling the throw blanket off of the back of the couch, she tosses it over Morgan’s hulking frame and her lips curve into a half smile as he subconsciously snuggles into the plush blanket.

“Goodnight, Derek,” she whispers as she walks to her bedroom and shuts the door behind her. She leans her back against the wood of the door. Light from the streetlights streams in through her partially open blinds, casting strange shadows around the room. She twists them shut, blocking out the light, and climbs into bed. Her muscles ache as she sinks into the mattress, finally allowing them to relax and after making them carry her through the day. She turns onto her side and stares at the empty space beside her. She pictures Hotch resting his head on the pillow next to hers, smiling and telling her goodnight; what they should’ve been doing last night. Instead, he’d been mutilated on the floor of his home, where he was supposed to feel safe after a day of combatting danger.

She blinks back tears and pushes the thought from her mind. “Hotch is fine,” she whispers, reminding herself. As her eyes fall shut and she allows sleep to finally drag her into its cool embrace, she thinks of Hotch squeezing her hand in the hospital. She thinks of its warmth. It’s enough to promise her a dreamless sleep, and that’s far better than being haunted by nightmares.

Emily wakes with the sun. The golden light streams through the blinds in slats across her bed. She glances at the clock and it reads 6:34 AM. A full 7 hours, that was more sleep than she’d had since before the team left for Canada.

After quickly going through the motions of her morning routine: washing her face, brushing her teeth and hair, and dressing in a comfortable pair of leggings and Hotch’s old FBI Academy sweatshirt, she emerges from her bedroom.

Morgan is still right where she left him, though at some point during the night, he’d stretched the length of his body across the whole of the couch. She stifles a laugh. One leg is dangling off of the couch while one arm is stretched straight out overhead. His mouth hangs open as he cuddles the bulk of the throw blanket against his chest. Silently, she pads across the room to where she left her phone on the kitchen counter. Approaching a sleeping Derek with as little sound as she can muster, she flips open her cell phone and snaps a pic. Derek’s eyes snap open and widen as he immediately sees Emily with the phone in hand.

“Oh hell, no!” he jumps up from the couch but before he can take one step, the throw blanket twists around his ankles effectively tripping him. Those three seconds are enough for Emily to text the photo to Garcia.

“Gimme that phone!” Derek orders as he finally makes it to his feet and tries to wrangle it from her. As he wraps his arms around her from behind, Prentiss can’t help but laugh. “Too late, Morgan. I already sent her the photo of Sleeping Beauty. You know that’s going in the archive.”

Morgan releases her and points a finger at her. “As long as it doesn’t make it into the slideshow at the Christmas party.”

Emily arches an eyebrow and tilts her head back and forth, weighing the likelihood of that. “We’ll have to see about that.”

Morgan laughs and his features soften into a gentle smile. He inclines his head toward her. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”

She feels heat rise to her cheeks, and a small wave of guilt crashes over her. She allows it to do so and then envisions it cresting before rolling gently over a sandy beach. She takes a deep breath and smiles knowing that Hotch would want her to be laughing and joking despite what he’s been through. He’d remind her that Foyet would’ve been there regardless of if she’d come home with him. And she knew that he’d be telling her that he was glad she wasn’t there, because he couldn’t bear to see anything happen to her.

“Thanks for last night,” she says. “I really needed it.”

Morgan waves her off. “Nah, it’s nothing. We’re family, Prentiss.”

“I know,” she says with a smile. “Do you want to grab breakfast or a coffee? I’m going to head back to the hospital and relieve Garcia.”

Morgan claps his hands together, “That shitty diner on 8th?”

Emily moans at the thought of a sausage, egg, and cheese bagel crammed into a plastic red basket overrun by a mountain of red potatoes. “Oh my God, yes. You know, I don’t know what they put in their food, and I don’t think I want to, but damn, a big pile of grease is exactly what I need right now.

Morgan grabs the car keys off the counter and pockets them. “I’m driving.”

•

Derek drops her off at the hospital’s front entrance. He rolls down the window as she circles the car. “Tell Garcia I’m waiting for her.”

Emily’s lips quirk into a half smile. “I’ll be sure to tell her her chariot awaits.” She raises her cup of coffee to him, “Thank you, Derek. For last night.”

He winks, “That’s what family’s for, right?”

She nods and turns toward the hospital. She navigates the twists and turns of the hallways, keeping out of the way of doctors and nurses as they go about their duties. After signing in at the nurses station, she shoulders her purse, picks up both cups of coffee and heads toward Hotch’s room.

“Knock, knock,” she vocalizes, unable to physically knock on the half open door. Using her shoulder, she pushes it open and steps inside.

“Emily!” Garcia greets cheerfully. She sits in a chair near the hospital bed. Her chunky ring-adorned fingers hold knitting needles paused in mid-air, a lengthy scarf made up of maroon fibers hanging down to her ankles.

Her eyebrows knit together as she eyes the scarf. She smiles at her friend. “Been busy?”

“I think I fell asleep to the sound of those needles clacking together,” Hotch says. Emily’s attention shifts to him and her smile widens. The bed is angled, allowing him to rest in a half-seated position. There seems to be more color on his face today and that floods her chest with warmth. Just barely, he inclines his head toward her. “Is one of those for me?”

Emily sucks air through her teeth. “Ooo, sorry. This is for Penelope.”

Garcia perks up. “Yes, please!” she says. “Give that caffeine to mama.” She lays her knitting needles in her lap and holds out her hands, thanking Emily when she passes her the cup.

“Morgan is waiting for you at the entrance.”

A flirtatious grin crosses Penelope’s lips. “My knight in shining armor, come to get me from this extra sanitary antiseptic-rich tower. Someone catch me as I swoon.” She tucks the mass of yarn into her bag and stands. “It’s been a pleasure, sir. I’ll have this scarf waiting for you on your desk when you return.”

As she passes Emily, she gives her a peck on the cheek. “He’s all yours, kitten.” She sashays out of the room, gently shutting the door behind her on the way out.

The room is small and she crosses the short space in a matter of steps. She exhales as she takes the seat previously occupied by Penelope. Hotch flexes his hand as he inches it closer to the bedside and Emily takes it in hers.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, squeezing her hand.

Emily breathes out a short laugh. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Well, I feel like I’ve been stabbed nine times, but that’s to be expected. I understand that you almost fainted yesterday.”

“I—” Emily’s mouth clamps shut as she feels the weight of his hard stare on her. “Did Garcia say that? I wouldn’t say I fain—”

“Emily.”

She hates that tone of voice. His supervisory voice. The one he uses to give orders. The one he uses when they’re acting as colleagues, not partners.

She rolls her eyes. “Hotch, don’t give me that look.” She then aims a pointed look of her own towards him. “And you’re not my boss right now. In fact, you’re not even allowed to think about work for the next four to six weeks as far as I’m concerned, so lose the ‘I’m-your-boss’ tone.”

Aaron’s brow arches slightly at her challenge. “Fair enough,” he relents. “You didn’t answer my question though. How are you feeling?”

Emily relaxes as his tone does and gently taps his fingers with her own. “Better than I was yesterday. Morgan took me home. He ordered takeout, I made him watch my favorite chick flick—”

“ How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days?”

Emily’s jaw drops, her open mouth smiling. “You remembered that?”

“I heard you and JJ talking about it on the plane,” he answers, smiling. “I do my best to remember little things like that about everyone,” he inclines his head towards her, “you especially.”

Emily can’t fight the pinkening of her cheeks. “Why do you do that?”

“It reminds me that we’re all individuals beyond the case files; that we’re not just behavior analysts, that we don’t just spend time studying and watching the why’s, what’s, and how’s that make up other people’s lives, but that we have those same qualities about ourselves. That we have hobbies and interests and beliefs outside of the bureau. If I don’t do that, well, I wouldn’t be a very good boss, now would I?”

A small sound of disbelief passes her lips. She’d had the pleasure of scaling the walls that he’d erected to distance himself from others allows him to lead his team from a place free of bias, but hearing him dictate that despite all of that and the image he projects, he is still internalizing all the bits and pieces that make each of them human. That that’s what makes him human.

“Ya know, if the team finds out you’re actually a big softie, you’ll never hear the end of it.” She says.

“Yes,” his lips twitch into a soft smile. “Well, I think they know that and just choose not to say anything about it.” He squeezes her hand again. “I’ll have to thank Morgan. I’m sorry for what you must have gone through.”

Her face falls. “Oh, Aaron don’t. You don’t need to—”

His eyes are hard again as he speaks. “I do. To find me like that after what we’d all gone through together in Canada. It couldn’t have been easy. Your response time was critical. I know you, Emily. I know you immediately had to force yourself into action. I know you had to bury your emotions to see past me; to see past your colleague and partner. And I know that wasn’t easy. I also know you couldn’t tell anyone else because you didn’t want to distract them from the case at hand. I also know that you were willing to sit in the waiting room covered in my blood until you knew I was alright. You did all of this on little food and drink, and even less sleep.”

Emily stares at his hand around hers, unmoving, as he speaks. In her mind’s eyes, the images of yesterday flash in rapid succession: finding him, his face twisted in pain as she applied pressure to the stab wounds, stumbling out of the ambulance as he was whisked out of reach, his blood spiraling down the drain in the hospital’s locker room…

“Emily.” Her name is lighter on his tongue this time; not an order, but a light guiding her back to the present moment. Her eyes focus on him and relief floods throughout her entire body. His hand is warm in hers.

Suddenly, pressure builds in her eyes, the heavy heat that comes before tears. She swallows and when she finds her voice, it wavers, “I was so scared, Aaron.”

“I know.”

“If I hadn’t found you, if you’d di—” Her voice breaks and she swallows the growing lump in her throat. She breathes deeply in a poor attempt to compose herself.

“But I didn’t,” Aaron states firmly. “Emily, I’m alive because you found me. Don’t sit here and torture yourself with ‘what-ifs.’ You know better than that.”

Emily nods and tucks the strands of hair that have fallen from her ponytail behind her ears. “You’re right, I’m just,” she sighs, “I wish there was more that I could do.”

“What you’re doing is already enough,” he says. “And,” he adds, “if the idea of moving my body didn’t make me think I’d physically pass out from the pain, I’d be putting my arms around you so you’d feel comforted and trust that I am so utterly grateful that you chose to go home that night.”

His fingers twitch, but he winces as he tries to lift them off the mattress. Emily reacts immediately and slips her cool slender fingers back into his hand. His are longer, rougher, and curl around hers.

When Emily speaks, her voice is soft. If she speaks any louder she’ll fear it’ll crack and she doesn’t want to cry again. “When they say you can leave here,” she starts and allows her lips to twitch into a whisper of a smile, “Can I come home with you?”

Hotch smiles in turn. “Come here.”

Emily stands and leans down, her bound hair falling just so over her shoulder as she does.

“Closer,” he says and she acquiesces, lowering herself so that her lips are hovering just over his and she can feel his breath on her skin.

His lips are as light as air as he brushes a feather-light kiss against her mouth. It’s all that he can do in his current condition, but the feel of it is enough to melt the icy grief that had been clinging to her these last thirty-six hours, and now it felt as though the sun was shining on her bare skin in this small sterile hospital room.

“My home is your home, Emily. And you’ll always be welcome.”

[em-prentiss]

got the music in you, baby (tell me why)

----

5 times Aaron wants to dance with Emily, and one time he does.

Music alone had never sparked in him the urge to dance. He’s seen it in many, the spark that would light up their eyes at a good beat, and he’d be envious of the way their bodies moved seemingly naturally to the music. Aware of his own awkwardness, Aaron never joined in, preferring instead to watch from a distance, an imperceptible sway to his shoulders that matched the tune of pounding music.

All this considered, when Aaron spots the ambassador’s daughter—Emily—in a sea of elegantly dressed politicians, her red dress calling out to him like a siren’s song, all he wants to do is twirl her away in time with the smooth jazz.

(Or, 5 times he doesn’t dance with Emily, and one time he does.)

Word count: 7.8k

----

1) a ballroom dance

Aaron has never been much of a dancer.

There were the occasions where he had to, of course; he’d danced with Haley at prom, but then it wasn’t really serious. They were laughing and exchanging kisses during the slow dances, doing nothing but rocking occasionally to the music, their arms wrapped around each other as if they were hugging. She’d tried to make him join her for the more upbeat songs but Aaron persisted, the blush on his cheeks concealed by the low lights of the gym as he dug his heels in the floor and convinced her to dance with her friends instead. She’s gone, now—left him with a sheepish smile and the echo of ‘wanting to see what’s out there.’

With her, she took any minimal urges of dancing he’d had nestled deep down.

There were times—when heavily intoxicated, that is—mostly in his college days, when he’d give in and let go, allowing himself to move to the beat of pounding music, too buzzed to be embarrassed at the way his body twisted and turned. He doesn’t like feeling stiff as he moves, awkwardly trying to find a rhythm from the beat, but alcohol more often than not turned his body to liquid, pliant and liable to follow the bass of whatever song was playing.

Music alone had never sparked in him the urge to dance. He’s seen it in many, the spark that would light up their eyes at a good beat, and he’d be envious of the way their bodies moved seemingly naturally to the music. Aware of his own awkwardness, Aaron never joined in, preferring instead to watch from a distance, an imperceptible sway to his shoulders that matched the tune of pounding music.

All this considered, when Aaron spots the ambassador’s daughter—Emily—in a sea of elegantly dressed politicians, her red dress calling out to him like a siren’s song, all he wants to do is twirl her away in time with the smooth jazz.

Her pale hand in his, the darkness of his ill-fitting suit against the perfectly tailored red of her dress. He wants to hear the click of her heels against the marble and her low voice above the music, shimmering with the same amusement that always lingers in her eyes. She’d be more graceful than him, he knows—infinitely so—but Aaron still wants to try twirling her around and bringing her back into his chest with steady fingers on her lower back, her expensive perfume dissolving in a cloud on his tongue.

It’s irrational, the twitch in his hand; he wants to fit it to the curve of her waist, lightly smooth his palm up and down her side to catch the silken material of her dress. It drapes elegantly over her form, cupping her curves with gentle reverence, and amongst the absurdity of his thoughts, it’s not out of place for Aaron to feel jealous of the silk.

Her hair is gathered in an artful twist, exposing the pale skin of her shoulders. She tilts her head and the curve of her throat is strangely enchanting as her eyes skip over the mingling guests, searching, searching, until they find him in the corner. 

Dark irises trap him in place and she’s heading in his direction, gliding across the marble with a newfound set to her jaw. Aaron can’t even look away, his coworkers’ chatter in his comms fading to a low buzz as people part to make way for her.

“Agent Hotchner.” Emily smiles when she reaches him. 

She’d discovered him about a week ago. A fling was being bothersome and Aaron threw him out while she stood on the staircase, bare feet curling around the ledge of the marble steps as she stared after them. Since then he’s been more or less the center of her attention, seemingly always posted wherever she’s lingering.

She’s certainly…entertaining.

“Miss Prentiss.” He replies with a nod. Up close it’s even harder to look away, his eyes drawn to the subtle shimmer kissing her skin. She glows, in a room of dull people, more brightly than she had before.

“Care to dance?” She asks, blissfully unaware of the turmoil in his head. 

You have no idea. 

Still, Aaron arches a brow.

Emily smiles ruefully. “Everyone here is either over the age of fifty or is going to leave me with desperately sore toes.” Her nose scrunches up and Aaron bites back a smile at the sulk on her lips, exaggerated but traced with some shred of genuity. It’s not uncommon for her to be complaining about something or the other, but as his eyes skip over the well-dressed guests—half of them indeed looking to be her father’s age—he thinks she can’t be faulted for griping about this.

Aaron clears his throat. “I’m afraid I’m no better than any of them,” he says, suddenly wishing his suit was more tailored, more formal, less visibly shabby. The gun on his hip is heavy and he wants it gone along with the wire curling around his neck. It’s laughable; his dancing skills have hardly evolved since his high school prom, but Aaron thinks he can learn to follow the curve of her body, let her lead him through a waltz with her fingers pressing into his arm. “Your toes wouldn’t thank me, and that’s me being generous.”

Emily’s eyes sparkle. “Ah, but at least you’re pretty to look at.”

Before the blush can spread to his ears, her mother is there, a tight smile on her lips as she grips Emily’s elbow.

“Emily.” The low hiss of her voice is audible in the small distance between them. Emily’s smile fades instantly; the ambassador doesn’t spare Aaron a second glance. He straightens and shuffles back further against the wall as Emily rolls her eyes, the pinch returning to her mouth as her mother continues whispering in her ear. Aaron feels her eyes slide to him, her gaze hot, but he fixes his on the crowd as Elizabeth lets go of her elbow and walks past them, apparently done with her reprimanding. 

Emily clears her throat. “I’ll save you a dance.” She smiles; polite, infinitely dimmer than her bright grin seconds ago.

It’s an empty promise, one he knows she can’t fulfill—at least not between these people, in this ballroom—and yet Aaron still holds out hope, despite all the rationings in his head.

“I look forward to it.”

2) a dance he shouldn’t want 

The Super bowl weekend comes and he’s nestled in a dark bar under strobing lights, his wife on one side and the still-puzzling enigma that is Emily on the other.

He’d been more than surprised to see her in his office with a box on her hip and a professionally painted smile on her lips, stiff and frozen as if he was one of the politicians at her mother’s parties. In hindsight, Aaron supposes it’s fair—they’d known each other for less than two weeks, with nothing but meaningless flirting weaving its way through their brief conversations. Maybe she hadn’t thought of him like he thought of her, in the dead of night and the mind numbing silence of a stakeout and the brief times his mind would wander to the increasingly distant past.

And now she’s here, with her arms bare and her hair tumbling in soft, obsidian curls that just brush her shoulders. 

And it doesn’t matter that she’s here, because he’s married. Because she’s no longer the same young woman who easily flirted at him whenever they spoke, and he’s no longer the freshly green security guard who’d flirt back when boredom was eating its way through his brain. 

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

Dimples curve in her cheeks as she hands him and Haley their drinks, the vibrant lights of the bar reflecting in her eyes when she looks at him with an easy smile. It’s enchanting, the way pinks and purples swirl into a backdrop of brown so dark it’s almost black, pupils entirely indistinguishable from irises. 

Aaron has to remind himself that he likes blue.

There’s a second where their fingers touch—a brush there and gone between one blink and the other. Aaron doesn’t get to linger on it before Emily pulls away, her pale hand wrapping around her own drink. She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t react as she turns to Penelope and says something to her, the waves of her hair contrasting with the pink-tinted skin of her arm.

His skin burns with something hot, the condensation on his glass doing nothing to cool it. A similar, uncomfortable heat flares in his stomach and Aaron swallows, nudging his thigh against Haley’s in an attempt to distinguish it. Haley nudges his thigh back and asks Emily something, but he isn’t listening as he brings his beer to his lips. 

Her perfume lingers on the rim of the glass. 

It tips into his mouth, threading through the beer in small, bitter traces, and Emily’s answer is static in his ears. Aaron swallows just quickly enough to narrowly avoid choking, a burn in his throat as he sets his glass down. He ducks his head and coughs into his elbow, stifling his curse in the wool of his quarter zip. The itch in his trachea makes his eyes water and he inhales, trying to soothe it with the cold air.

“Hey, are you okay?” Haley rubs between his shoulder blades.

“Fine.” Aaron rasps.

His eyes lift to the opposite end of the table, searching for Emily, but he doesn’t find her there.

She’s in Morgan’s arms. Her beer is discarded on the table; between one second and the next, he’s abandoned the crowd of women around him and pulled Emily into their midst.

Emily easily accommodates Morgan’s lecherous dancing. She rolls her hips, her mouth moving as she says something over the music. He’s bold, his hands reaching for her waist, and she’s eager, looping her arms around his neck. Emily tosses her head back, silken hair catching the lights, and her shirt rises up as she moves to the beat. Delicate skin is exposed, pale beneath startlingly dark ink that cups her hip in a way his hand itches to. 

Heat gathers above the collar of his fleece.

Between flashes of pearly teeth and grabbing hands and rolling hips, Aaron’s stomach starts to churn. This is a far cry from the elegant waltzes he’s seen her dance before, and he inexplicably wants to shove Morgan away and take his place, rest his own hand on her waist and dip his fingers in the back pocket of her jeans. He wants to dance with her like that even though it’s been years—a decade—since he’s been to a rave, but he’s sufficiently buzzed now, wants to feel the outline of her body between his arms.

Instead he grabs Haley’s hand, tangles his fingers with hers and speaks through the treacherous rasp in his throat. “They don’t seriously call that dancing, do they? C’mon Hales, let’s show them how it’s done.”

She’s delighted, of course, only too well remembering the times she’d had to drag him to the dance floor. The churning in Aaron’s stomach intensifies at Haley’s soft hand in his, their wedding bands clinking together just before she lets go and starts to dance, as easily as she always does whenever the music hits her.

He tries to move with her, he does—holding her closer than normal and feeling the heat of her body though her clothes—but then he tilts his chin above the blonde head right in front of him and he sees her, a complete opposite of the woman in his arms. Two of Morgan’s fingers are under her shirt now, hiding the ink, and he’s grateful when another couple comes into view and blocks them from his sight.

As Aaron catches Haley’s beaming smile between twirls, he feels in the pit of his stomach that he’s fucked. 

3) a dance in the rain

Sweeping his gaze over the bullpen is habitual whenever he leaves his office. The lights are on despite it only being noon; charcoal gray clouds have gathered thickly in the sky, hiding the sun behind them, and it doesn’t look like it’ll surface anytime soon. Morgan is diligently bent over his stack of paperwork and Reid is visible near the coffee machine—pouring a mountain of sugar in his mug—but a certain blonde-brunette pair is missing. 

They’re probably in Garcia’s office, Aaron tells himself as he heads to Dave’s door, trying to stop his eyes from wandering to the glass doors. He’s not nosy; at least he doesn’t think he is. 

Keeping tabs on his team at all times is habit, really.

Just as his hand wraps around Dave’s door handle, he spots a blonde crossing the conference room. JJ’s voice carries over the chaos of the storm and Aaron lets go of the handle, finding himself continuing forward instead. 

The file in his hand rustles with his pace, distantly reminding him that his destination was a few steps back. Thunder cracks, and as he gets closer, he hears her murmur to JJ, “I’d love to dance.”

Emily’s voice is wistful. 

Frowning, Aaron peeks into the conference room. She almost presses her nose against the glass, the soft puffs of her breath forming clouds on the window. The rain falls in thick sheets, turning Quantico into a gray blur outside; the way Emily looks at it makes it seem beautiful.

“In that?” JJ’s tone is incredulous, but it’s still soft as she leans next to her, peering into the downpour.

Aaron doesn’t judge her skepticism; he hardly sees the appeal of getting soaked to the bone and having to deal with the uncomfortable aftermath. But then he looks at Emily and he sees the shimmer to her eyes, a light that had been diminished these past few days courtesy of a brutal case in Texas, and while he still doesn’t get it he thinks if she went out in the storm he’d follow her. Offer his hand, let the rain soak it in the time she takes it and maybe links her fingers with his.

Thunder rumbles and it’s easy to imagine; feeling the water slip through their intertwined palms, hearing her laugh, joyful and free—because he’s heard that one before, he knows what it sounds like—drowned out by the downpour. She would undoubtedly slip on the pavement as she tried to spin, and he would catch her with hardly steadier hands. Maybe they would crash, backward on the floor, or maybe his oxfords would provide just enough grip and he’d hold them both upright.

Even through the walls, the rain is loud as it slams against the pavement. 

It’s not so harsh a soundtrack. More forgiving than the tune of a song, a gentle thumping that won’t judge his graceless movements. Aaron thinks he could easily move with her to the rhythmless patter of rain on the sidewalk, the roiling of thunder above. Flashes of lighting would reflect in her eyes and he’d feel the same electricity in his heart when she’d look at him with rain soaked lashes, water beading on the tips of them and falling to her cheeks when she blinks.

The wind screeches, Emily sticks herself closer to the window, and Aaron thinks he’s ready to go out into the downpour, let it soak his suit and drench her hair and make her bangs stick to her brows, let it swallow up the sound of his voice as he asked her to dance. It would hide the tremor in it, he thinks; the uncertainty that comes with trying to be casual with her outside of work.

There’s nothing stopping him now. Nothing except the fact that he’s her superior and the tan line around his ring finger that has just started to even out.

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” Emily murmurs, snapping Aaron out of his rain-blurred fantasy. “It can be…” She trails off, draws her lip between her teeth, and he’s sure the file in his hand crumples, “Grounding. Oddly enough.” 

Emily crosses her arms as she thoughtfully looks out the window, her eyes tracing the droplets of rain. He should tell them to get back to work, but their forms are weary from the case they came back from last night, and if they can’t find respite in the brief minutes of their lunch break, Aaron thinks they won’t find it anywhere else.

“You still have thirty minutes,” he finds himself saying. 

Emily and JJ jump. 

Aaron bites his tongue too late.

They turn to him, startled, their eyes narrowing at him almost synchronously in confusion. Emily’s brow arches in question; before she can ask what the hell he’s doing here—spying on them—Aaron rattles off, “It’s your lunch break and your go bag’s here—I mean, it should be, seeing as we just came back from a case—” That’s besides the point, “Uh, anyway, as long as you’re back here by 1 to hand in your consults and you’re not dripping rainwater where you stand,” he shrugs, “I don’t see a problem with it.”

JJ is looking at him like he’s grown a second head. Emily’s shock is more subdued, but she still sounds skeptical as she hooks a finger through her necklace and asks, “You don’t think it’s unprofessional?”

It’s what you need.

Aaron fights the urge to shrug again. “I think it’s human.” He says.

It’s subtle, the way her expression shifts to surprise. Dark eyes just about swallow him whole; Aaron wonders if he’s just given himself away, wholly and undeniably. 

He needs to get out of there.

“Just don’t be late.” He can only pray his voice doesn’t sound as soft to their ears as it sounds to his.

He doesn’t think it’s the right answer, but he doesn’t linger enough to know. Aaron turns on his heel and steadfastly makes his way to Dave’s office—where he should’ve been in the first place. There’s the sharp clicks of heels on the floor behind him as JJ and Emily walk out of the conference room.

Their eyes are hot on the nape of his neck. Aaron fights the urge to walk faster, and when he reaches Dave’s door, he pushes it open without pausing to knock.

Twenty three minutes later he’s back in his office and Emily knocks on his open door, wearing a different shirt but the same blazer, her makeup flawless and her hair damp. Aaron very deliberately chooses not to notice the way this one hugs her body more tightly than her button down had, sliding his gaze away from the pale v of skin down her chest. He meets her eyes instead; they’re bright beneath her wavy bangs, the light he’d been waiting for turned on again. Something in him loosens.

Emily offers him a smile as she hands him her neatly written consult.

“You had seven more minutes.” Aaron says as he takes it.

She raises her shoulder in a delicate shrug. “Didn’t want to push it.”

Aaron has a sinking suspicion that even if she did, he’d have let it slide. He nods, grateful that she didn’t, and instead of simply leaving, Emily perches on the arm of the chair across from his desk. 

“You could’ve come with.” She says casually. Her tone is genuine and she’s smiling at him and he doesn’t know what it means, if she’s meaning it the way she does with everyone else or if it’s special, just for him. Because no one else does this—offers to dance with him in the rain, touches him as frequently as she does, cracks jokes to him even though she knows he won’t laugh.

Is it casual or not, normal or not, platonic or not. Is he too desperate for company—her company—or does she really see him as more than a friend, more than a boss.

He’s losing his mind trying to figure her out.

“I don’t like getting wet.” Is what he manages in the end, the dryness in the back of his throat forcing the words to come out clipped.

Emily doesn’t seem too bothered by it. She presses her lips together, dimples gathering in her cheeks. “That’s a shame.”

When she stands, she stirs up a soft whoosh of air smelling of summer rain. “Anything else you need?” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. It shifts from its place; Aaron spots the damp patch it left behind on her shirt.

“Just the case reports.”

Emily nods. She turns and walks away, and the words tumble from his mouth just as she reaches the door.

“If you catch a cold don’t come whining about it.”

She doesn’t pause, but her voice is distinctly indignant. “I never whine.” 

Aaron finds himself smiling at her retreating figure.

4) a dance to her own music

She’s kicked off her heels a long time ago, now sitting cross legged on the piano bench—because of course David Rossi owns a fucking grand piano. She’s been toying with the keys for a while now, a far away look in her eyes as she thumbs at the smooth ivory.

The strap of her satin blouse slips off one shoulder, and if Aaron didn’t already have confirmation that he’s falling, the gallop in his heart when she fixes it with one absent finger is all the answer he needs.

“Are you just gonna look pretty there all night or will you play us something, Prentiss?”

Her lips curl up as Morgan brings her back to the present.

“Aw, Morgan, you think I’m pretty?” Her voice lilts teasingly, the same wine-dark silk of her blouse.

“You’re easy on the eyes,” he jibes back, and as soft laughter rises around them, Aaron feels suddenly envious of their easy banter. He unlocks his jaw by bringing his glass to his lips and forcing himself to swallow, though he hardly needs to be more intoxicated with her in the room, looking like that.

It’s dangerous, the casualness of her posture and the softness of her hair. Her wine glass resting precariously on the glossy piano, his soft button down tracing his skin, the base of his throat exposed to the same air she’s breathing in and out. Lines blur, more than they have already, and Aaron’s not sure he can keep his composure for much longer.

“Have any sheet music?” Emily turns to Dave, her fingers absently trailing over the piano keys.

Dave gestures vaguely with his hand. “Make something up.”

A soft scoff escapes past her lips. “Of course you’d have a piano but not music. Show off. You don’t know how to play this thing at all, do you?” 

By some accident, her eyes meet Aaron’s. They’re dark as ever, glinting in the low lights with all too familiar amusement. Emily’s lips curve and something happens, too quick for him to fully catch—the flutter of her lashes against her cheek, wrinkled lines around her right eye.

It leaves him with a similar flutter in his chest.

Aaron catches her dimple as she turns away. Her teeth bite down on her bottom lip; Emily stares through the piano and Aaron doesn’t understand what just happened, only that something did.

He raises the glass to his lips again.

“It’s popular with the ladies.” Dave protests, but his voice is drowned out by the notes of the piano as Emily tests them out. 

She toys with it for a while, a small crease between her brows that Aaron wants to smooth out with his thumb. He grips his glass tighter and Emily’s frown clears, determination taking over as her fingers press down on the keys with surety.

He doesn’t know what she plays, if it’s a legitimate piece or something of her own. It’s slow and entirely unfit for dancing, he’s sure, and yet he still wants to take her hand and lift her up from the bench, thread his fingers through hers and dance to the melody of her own music. Aaron imagines her bare feet slipping on the plush threads of Dave’s Persian carpet, the richness of her surprised laugh as she tumbles into his chest. He would steady her with a confident hand on her waist and her arm would loop around his neck; maybe she’d slip the tips of her fingers into his hair, maybe their chests would press together and he’d feel her inhale.

He’s learned since he’d wanted to slow dance with her last. He’d danced at his wedding, gone to a few classes Haley had signed them up for on his free weekends. Aaron knows he’d wrap his hands around her waist with certainty, hold her fingers between his own and know when to twirl her, when to dip, even though the tune she’s playing is hardly fit for anything more than swaying.

If his calculations are right, her forehead would just brush his jaw. She’s shorter now that her heels are tossed away; it’s an unexpected difference but one that feels scarily intimate, like the knowledge that if they both surged forward and met in the middle, his lips would press against her temple.

It’s ridiculous how much he wants to do that.

Maybe he wants to press a kiss to her lips, too. They’re a faded red, lipstick softly smudged from repeatedly pressing her lips to the rim of her wine glass. Plush and inviting and—

“Beethoven,” Reid exclaims, his eyes lighting up. Aaron is firmly back on the couch, rooted to the cushions despite the urge in his gut to get up and move to the piano. 

“Moonlight sonata, first movement.” He says confidently. His voice pitches higher like it always does when he’s excited.

Emily nods. “Very good, handsome,” she drawls, briefly looking up to flash him a smile. Though Reid undoubtedly knew he was correct, her praise brightens his smile.

“I didn’t know you could play.” He says.

“I didn’t know you could identify classical pieces from just a few notes.” She replies, a proud glint in her eyes. “That’s impressive.”

“He listens to them before bed,” Morgan playfully knuckles his hair. Reid shoves him away as Garcia and JJ laugh. Aaron can’t get himself to join in, still hung up on the soft tenderness of handsome.

“They help me sleep,” he grumbles, fixing his hair before tucking it behind his ear. “Can you play Claire de Lune?” The words are clumsy as they fall from his lips, but Emily nods again.

“Yep,” she pops the p. “Only if you get me the sheet music, though. I’m more rusty on that one.”

“Do you know it also means—”

“Moonlight, yeah, so actually—”

“—there’s two moonlight sonatas.” They say in unison. Emily’s hands pause on the keys and her music fades as she laughs, one sweet melody falling down and the other picking up where it left off. Aaron’s lips twitch at the familiar sound.

“Even though technically Claire de Lune isn’t even a sonata, really, it’s the third movement of the Debussy’s Suite Bergamasque which has four—”

The words become static in his ears as Emily’s smile widens, her eyes bright as she nods along even though he’s sure Reid’s lost her. Something tightens in his chest and Aaron wonders if he’ll slowly grow to envy every person to ever make her smile. He closes his eyes and tips back what’s rest of his scotch, shoving down the urge to get up and ask her that one simple question that’s haunted him for years now.

He’s losing his goddamn mind.

5) a dance in the midst of the chaos

Jack’s birthday party is livelier than he would have dreamed of a year ago, when he was drowning in grief and trying to claw his way out. His head is still barely above the water, but things like this make it easier.

Since four o’clock his apartment has been turned upside down, and for the first time that Aaron can remember, he welcomes the chaos. Garcia comes with goodie bags and a merry playlist and face paints, Reid with magic tricks up his sleeves and down his pockets. Rossi and JJ show up with food, Emily and Morgan grace his doorstep with light jokes and easy banter.

And his boy is laughing. He’s laughing and running around with Henry and they’re almost tripping over the toys littering the living room, palpable love from his team crowding the already small space. JJ calls for them to slow down and Aaron smiles at the echo of voices and giggles, precious sounds he never held out hope for hearing in a place like this.

He thought he’d feel some lingering awkwardness at brining them into his house, but if it exists it’s quick to dissipate with the kids’ delight, with the adults’ desire to make it last. JJ and Emily crowd his kitchen, Garcia adds to his sparse and—in comparison—pathetic decorations, and as Rossi serenades the kids with some story he’s sure he doesn’t want to know the contents of, the apartment properly feels like home.

Throughout it all, Aaron feels overwhelmed with love. 

Nobody here has ever said it—at least not to him—but it spills from them and their actions and their laughter. The careful way Emily counts out six candles and the precision with which JJ pokes them into the cake. The way Garcia plops a paper crown on Jack’s head, the way they all sing happy birthday at the top of their lungs and cheer when Jack blows out the candles, his grin wide and toothy and everything Aaron thought he’d never be able to give him.

Maybe this counts as fulfilling his promise.

In the living room, Emily cuts Jack’s chocolate cake and hands thick slices to everyone on flimsy paper plates; Jack gets the first slice, the biggest and most chocolatey piece of cake that he immediately sinks his face into.

When the turn comes to him, Aaron tries to decline.

“I’m not a huge fan of chocolate,” he says quietly.

Emily presses the plate more insistently into his hand, the edges of it curling up against his chest. “Do it for the birthday boy,” she whispers. “One slice won’t kill you, Hotch.” Her free hand cups his around the edge of the plate, fingers curling around his wrist with a squeeze.

His skin burns, even though her hand is cold. 

“Okay.” Aaron manages with a croak, hoping she’d let go of him before she feels his racing pulse through his wrist. Emily smiles, small but triumphant as she lets him go. “Only if you take one, too.” He rasps, wondering if he’s imagining the cold that sinks into his hand.

“Oh, are you kidding?” She says as she turns back to the cake and grabs the chocolate covered knife. “I’m taking two.”

Seeing her with a plate of—two—cake slices balanced on her crossed legs, sitting on the threadbare rug in his living room and surrounded by the bright energy of his son, Aaron thinks she looks sickeningly in place. 

He’s in the kitchen, trying to clear the image from his mind when Jack’s laughter flows in. It’s been a common sound these past few hours, but Aaron still peers through the open plan kitchen and into the living room, his heart briefly stumbling at the scene in front of him.

Jack is in Emily’s arms, both of them laughing as she spins them around. Gift wrapping paper litters the floor, confetti is dug deep into the rug between Emily’s socked feet, and Jack’s paper crown slips down his forehead as she bounces him around, attempting a graceless dance. They hardly move at all, one single lump attached from hip to shoulder, but they’re a mess of giggles and pink cheeks.

An inelegant dance. A dance for the joy of closeness rather than moving to the beat of a song. It makes his breath catch, his hands pause on the counter.

They twirl to the melody of their own laugher and Aaron’s heart aches with the desire to join them. To wrap his arms around them both, share Jack’s weight across his shoulder and free Emily’s hip from his son’s heft. His arm would encircle each waist and the world would be held between his fingertips for a fleeting moment.

It would hardly be a dance—no more than a mess of elbows and two left feet aimlessly moving about—but the comfort of having them both close would be more than enough. Maybe he would catch Emily’s grin and feel her own arm slide around his waist, bringing him and Jack so close their bodies bump together; soft arches against his sharpened edges.

He can almost taste it, just across the kitchen counter.

“It’s not wrong,” Dave says, suddenly appearing next to his elbow and breaking him out of his wishful fantasy, “for you to want this.”

Aaron swallows down the hard lump in his throat. He looks down and focuses on wiping the chocolate from the countertop, ignoring the heat of Dave’s eyes on him. Emily’s laugh carries; his heart both aches and swells at the sound.

It’s not wrong. Could it be, when it’s something as pure as this?

By the time he actually realizes that, it’s much too late.

+1 (finally; a slow dance)

The opportunity presents itself. 

JJ’s wedding is the last thing he could’ve possibly expected after a fiasco like yesterday’s, but it’s here and Emily is here and it’s finally an acceptable setting in which it’d be weirder for him not to ask her to dance than if he did.

Aaron’s hands start to dampen with sweat; he wipes them on his slacks before approaching Emily. She’s standing quietly next to one of the buffet tables, toying with the stem of her champagne glass as she looks through the dancing couples. Only when she’s close enough to touch does she look up and give him a small smile, fairy lights reflecting in her eyes.

Now or never.

“Would you like to dance?” Aaron—finally—asks, his voice quiet as he holds out his hand. His eyes trace over her face, closely looking for signs of rejection, but she doesn’t give any.

Emily sets down her glass and wordlessly takes his hand. It’s soft, just like he’d imagined it would be, but he didn’t account for the rougher calluses on her fingertips. That alone cements the fact that this is real, not yet another one of his many daydreams.

They find their way to the dance floor and Aaron’s hand goes to her waist. His palm flattens around the soft curve hidden beneath her dress, the satin slipping under his skin with a low whisper.

Emily sways easily with him, following the lines of his body wherever he takes her. She’s quiet, withdrawn in that unusual way she’s been since she got back, and for the first time in ever, Aaron hates her silence. 

He promised himself. After the chaos of Jack’s party and the whirlwind that tore through Emily’s life, he promised himself that if he ever got to see her again he’d somehow ask her to dance. He wanted to promise himself to tell her something else, too. Something consisting of three tiny words and a buildup simmering for years.

But he could hardly make himself that promise knowing he’ll never keep it.

“You know…” Aaron begins, swallowing when Emily cocks her head to show she’s listening, “I’ve wanted to do this for years.”

The confession is soft; it echoes in the warm space between their bodies. Aaron wonders if she knows there’s a piece of his heart in these few words.

“Go to a wedding?” Emily murmurs.

He thinks she must be joking, but the absent look in her eyes says she’s not here with him. Panic sparks in his chest, ice cold water running through his veins. 

He’s losing her.

Aaron subconsciously tightens his grip on her hand. “Dance with you.” He says, the words tumbling out too quick and desperate.

That snaps her out of it.

“…Years?” Emily echoes. Her brows furrow, the fog in her eyes clearing. “How many years?” She whispers.

Heat travels up his collar. Aaron clears his throat, making a point of not shying away from her eyes when he says, “Embarrassingly many.” 

Emily tilts her head. “Care to give me a number?”

He laughs, soft and tasting bitter in the back of his throat. Emily’s hand twitches in his and he rubs his thumb over her knuckles, almost absently. 

She’s been in his life, some way or another, for over a decade. Always just out of reach, some persistent, invisible barrier keeping him from her. Or maybe it’s just his own cowardice.

“Mm, 15 years,” he murmurs, and her eyes widen. “Give or take.”

Suddenly she’s here with him, more present than she’s been in a long time. Aaron feels the heat of her attention, heavy and demanding.

“Why—” Her voice croaks and she falters, both her words and her steps. Her feet halt; Aaron gently nudges her lower back, the tips of his fingers reaching the pearls of her spine. Emily starts moving again. “Why didn’t you?”

His hand slides down her waist to wrap around her right hip. There’s ink here, he knows. Aaron rubs his thumb over it absently, almost trying to feel it through her dress.

“I was a coward.” He breathes out, looking away from Emily and focusing instead on the warmth of her body against his. She’s perfect, nothing less than what he’d imagined, and Aaron files away the feeling for later. A twist in his gut tells him he won’t get to do this again. “I still am. I mean…why would you ever want to dance with me?” Aaron shrugs; Emily’s fingers curl into his jacket. “At least here you were less likely to say no.”

Her nails dig into the back of his hand. The sting almost loosens something in his shoulders—at least this could last longer than she does. 

“I never would’ve said no,” Emily says, “if you would’ve asked.” 

Her eyes are hot, so hot on his skin. Piercing and sharp; he’s missed that intensity, spent seven months praying for it back, and not in vain. But maybe he’ll relive that cycle all over again, and this time she won’t be as quick to come back.

A lump forms in the back of his throat. Distantly, he’s aware of the song ending, but neither he nor Emily pay attention to it as they glide across the floor. He tries to focus on that—on the places where their bodies touch, the way her perfume floods his mouth when he spins her and it carries in the air—but all he’s thinking of is time lost, and chances taken too late.

Emily’s fingers slot between his. The hand on his back slips under his jacket and fuck, he’s always thought of touching her but never of her touching him. The weight of her gaze is almost a touch in itself, the way fire trails across his cheeks in the form of obsidian-dark eyes. 

Aaron clears his throat, his voice low when he says, “The last time I wanted to ask you to dance was just before I lost you. And…I feel like I’m about to lose you again.” He rasps, his tone pleading even to his ears as he squeezes her hand. “Am I, Emily?”

Panic flares in her eyes.

Emily tugs her hands away and Aaron’s heart sinks. The skin of his back is left cold, the inside of his palm achingly empty. “Please,” he whispers, but he doesn’t even know what he’s pleading for.

“I need some water,” she says shakily, the excuse more for their friends around them than for him—an explanation for why he’s suddenly standing alone as Emily walks back into the house, wrapping her shawl tighter around her body.

Aaron watches her go and his heart drops to the floor. Instantly his brain supplies him with memories he never wants to relive; Emily’s empty chair on the jet and her cleared out desk and her badge in his drawer, the laminated shine of her smile the only thing he had left of her. His heart remembers the ache, his eyes remember the burn of tears.

He’s moving after her before he can stop himself.

Aaron doesn’t feel Dave and Morgan’s stares as he disappears inside, long strides taking him to the kitchen. His thumb traces over his index finger in quick intervals, his heart picking up as if he’s afraid he’ll find empty space in the kitchen instead of the woman he’s been in love with for years.

But she’s there, leaning against the counter with her head in her hands.

“Emily.”

Her name escapes in a rush; quick and breathless. She looks up and he sees the rapid movement of her chest, fluttering like a bird’s.

His heart twists painfully.

“Would you still want to dance with me?” She asks, her lip trembling, her eyes shiny with more than the glint of the lights above. It takes his breath away, how everything she’s been hiding so quickly rises to the surface. “After everything?” Her voice shakes almost imperceptibly.

Aaron walks closer to her. When he’s close enough to see the frantic pulse in her throat, he tentatively cups her cheek. 

Emily doesn’t back away; he lets out a quiet breath. 

“Wake up, sweetheart.” He says softly, his thumb skimming her jaw. “I always want to dance with you. I would say I’ve been waiting for you for to say yes, but we both know—”

Her lips are on his.

Aaron inhales sharply and there it is, that plush bottom lip finally in between his own. He tastes lingering traces of champagne and desperation, the ash from yesterday still clinging to her mouth. It’s been building up for a while now, but that look in her eyes started taking form last night, when she was staring down at her desk with her clothes still stained in soot.

The hand that slides into his hair breaks him from his frozen state. Emily grips the strands and his arm wraps around her waist, holding her to his chest as he kisses her back. Her lips are shaky, her hands unsteady, but Aaron thinks his might be just the same.

“Emily,” he murmurs when the breath is sucked from their lungs. He’s just far enough away to know that her eyes are closed, her trembling breaths skipping over his mouth as she twirls his hair around her finger. Aaron squeezes her waist and her eyes flutter open, endless brown briefly stealing his breath away again.

“Hey. Don’t go.” He breathes. One of the hands on her waist travels up, between their bodies, to cup her cheek again. “Please.” God, how many times is he going to beg tonight?

Emily sucks in a breath. 

“How did you know I wanted to?” She asks, tugging on his hair. Aaron is too close to imagine the shine on her lashes.

“I know you, Emily.” He whispers. “You think no one does, but we do. I do. Some parts of you are hidden, yes, but for the most part…we know you.” His thumb roves over her soft cheek, feeling it when she inhales shakily. It travels to the corner of her mouth and he gives her a small smile. “And I think I know this particular habit of yours especially well.”

A sniffled laugh escapes past her lips. A thrill goes through him at the accomplishment, even when Emily hides her small smile in the crook of his neck. “You know I didn’t want to last time,” she croaks, her hand leaving his hair to loop around his shoulders.

“I know, sweetheart.” Aaron’s hand travels up her back, slowly rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. None of them acknowledge the nickname that slipped out twice in the span of five minutes. They just stay there, listening to the faint music trickling in as Aaron presses his lips to her hair, smelling honeysuckle at her temples.

“Will you stay?”

Emily doesn’t answer. She’s slow to disentangle herself from his arms, straightening and adjusting her shawl before she reaches for him again. “Dance with me.” She whispers as she takes his hand and guides it to her waist.

Aaron follows her lead. Emily leans forward and wraps her own arms around his waist, her fingers hooking through his belt loops as Aaron’s palm finds its home on her back. She fits her head under his chin and they start to sway with slow aimlessness.

The music doesn’t quite reach them here, but the symphony of their intertwined breaths is enough. 

“You know, I thought about it once.” Emily says. Her voice travels through his skin, a little muffled against his throat. “At mother’s gala.”

Aaron hums, his thumb skimming her hipbone. “That was the first time for me,” he says. He closes his eyes and it’s so far away now, an age since he first wanted to dance with a girl clad in a red dress.

Cold air hits his neck and Emily tilts her head back, a different shine to her eyes as she asks, “Care to tell me about all the other times?”

Her lips are inches away from his, and though Aaron isn’t entirely convinced she won’t bolt, he’s more at ease with her like this in his arms. “Bold of you to assume I remember all of them.” He arches a brow.

“Don’t you?”

He absolutely does.

Aaron smiles. Emily’s hand travels up his side, gently cupping the lines of his body. “I’ll tell you,” he murmurs, a slight hitch to his breath, “if you’ll go out with me.”

Emily smiles, too. “I’ll have you know, I only dine in Michelin Stars.” She says softly, shallow dimples forming in her cheeks.

“Well it’s a good thing I happen to know a few.”

She hides in his neck again and he feels the slight imprint of her smile against his skin. A ghost of curved lips, a small whisper of forever. 

They continue to rock to the faint music, Aaron’s cheek pressed to Emily’s hair. The movement of their bodies is slow and unhurried, nothing like he’d imagined and somehow infinitely better.

It’s their first dance. 

It’s not their last. 

taglist: @kllingdaddy @luhwithah @cheetobreath07 @dontemilyyyyme

[ssaemilyhotchner]

Z please? Congratulations! 🎉

tysm for participating, @emilyhotchner! ✨

OTHER 1K DRABBLES | Read on AO3 Join the celebration by requesting a letter!

letter: Z | prompt: ZZZs | wc: 0.5k cw: 18+, sexual content a/n: there's no excuse for how dirty this is oops

Please do not repost (reblogs welcome) or otherwise claim as your own.

--

Not for the first time, Hotch watches as she sleeps.

In her slumber, Emily stirs and murmurs his name, the lusty sound sending heat through his body to settle at the base of his spine. Hotch wraps his arm around her and presses his lips to her shoulder in instinct, ink black hair tickling his face as he breathes her in deeply.

Her eyes slowly flutter open at the contact. “Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“What are you still doing up?”

Hotch rubs lazy circles on the smooth skin of her stomach with his thumb, the thin streaks of moonlight trickling into the room enough for him to see her muscles quiver and flex at his touch. “Watching you.”

Emily lets her eyes fall closed again, then sighs contentedly when she burrows deeper into his embrace and feels him half-hard against her lower back. “Feels like you want to do more than just watch.”

He chuckles. “No, I want to let you sleep,” he returns, though his twitch at the thought of being buried inside her again gives him away. 

“Mmm. I’d believe you if it weren’t for your track record,” she teases. “You’ve always liked waking me up for sex.”

“You’re just so pliable when you’re sleepy.” He can’t help it: he relishes the way her body moves when they are together, how relaxed she is with him in the dead of night. Hotch trails his fingers up her thighs and groans at his discovery. “Jesus, Em, you’re soaked. Having a good dream?”

Emily rewards him with a pleased shudder, instinctively rocking against his fingers. “Very much so.”

With a murmured is this okay and her resulting eager nod, he presses into her from behind, grinning against the nape of her neck as she chokes out a little gasp in response. “Tell me about it?” 

“You were fucking me after some Bureau event,” she manages eventually, his slow rocking rhythm already taking her apart. “Hiked my dress up over my knees and got me off with that brilliant mouth of yours. You were still fully dressed in your suit when I came.” 

Hotch replies with a rumble of approval, running his fingers through her hair. “Did you take it off of me?” 

“No.” Her hand finds his between her legs, a wordless request for more pressure that he readily obeys.

“No?” he whispers, his breath hot against her ear.

“You wanted to fuck me with it on. So that every time I saw you in it, I’d remember.” His rhythm stutters at her words and her back bows, hips bucking as his thrusts begin to deepen. “God, don't stop—”

“You were right. That was a very good dream.” Hotch crooks his fingers just so then, and buries his face in the juncture of her shoulder as she flies apart. He follows shortly afterward, spilling into her with a groan of her name drawn out like a prayer.

They’ve cleaned up and resettled when Emily lets out a pleased hum, sated and sleepy.

“This was even better, though.”

[sequinsmile-x]

….i should write this shouldn’t i 👀👀

[forhappysake]

hotch: has anyone seen reid? *heads shake, room falls silent* jj: wait, I hear something! *quiet sobs coming from a nearby closet* jj: found him!

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

someone to watch me die.

chapter four: December 1993

You are cordially invited to the Prentiss' annual Christmas party. There may be fireworks.

Read on AO3

warnings: domestic violence (against women and children), substance abuse, addiction.

[emilyprentiss-ily]

A new shade of red

tw: severe self harm, implied suicide, so much crying (be careful reading this<3)

summary: the team find emily and aaron’s daughter at her worst

wc: 2k

chapter: one | two

Emily couldn’t stop thinking about all the teams’ voices overlapping, their tones absolutely terrified as they panicked. In just a few short minutes, all their lives would be changed forever. Emily’s life as a mom would change, Aaron’s life as a dad would change. Their usual worries would be something else entirely.

“Hey, has anyone seen Lola?” Emily asked, her heart slightly racing as she looked at her team and her husband at the table, the volume in the room fading as they looked at Emily.

“I think she said she was going to the bathroom.” JJ answered, noticing Emily’s slightly wide eyes as she stood in front of them. The dark haired woman turned around, rushing down the hall to the bathroom, leaving the team looking at each other with frowns, confusion making it hard to resume talking about what they were just seconds ago.

JJ stood up, giving the team a small smile as she, too, walked down the hall, seeing Emily knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

“Lola?” Four more knocks. Nothing. “Honey, you’ve been in there for a long time now.” JJ just watched as Emily breathed heavily, not being able to stand completely still. “Lola?” Two more knocks. Nothing.

Emily turned around, looking at JJ with a frown, her hands on her waist as she bit her lower lip. JJ looked at her with soft, slightly wide eyes. Emily exhaled. “JJ, I…” It sounded like she swallowed a cry. “I need you to get Aaron here.” JJ heard the desperation in her friend’s voice and she nodded, hurrying to get him.

Emily stayed there, continuing to knock, telling herself that her thoughts were wrong. That this wasn’t really happening.

After moments, that felt far too long, her husband was by her side, asking if she was okay.

“I’m fine, I just… you need to get in there.” Emily tried to open the door, mentally telling herself that maybe it would magically open. Aaron looked at his wife, seeing her eyes shining with slight tears. Her voice was laced with concern and her breaths were short. “Aaron, right now. Open the door. I don’t care how you do it, just get it open.” Her words were hurried and she got a glance of JJ fidgeting with her fingers, her eyes unsure.

Aaron grabbed the handle, crashing the side of his body to the door over and over again. It felt like forever until the door finally opened and Aaron was not at all nearly prepared for the sight he was exposed to. There she was, his 15 year old daughter, blood covering her whole arm, her clothes and the floor. He opened his mouth in a silent gasp as he rushed to her side, horrified by how pale she was.

Emily and JJ caught sight of the situation and their hearts hurt as they saw Aaron try to talk Lola back to consciousness. Emily covered her mouth, tears burning in her eyes the second her palm touched her skin. JJ was right behind her, tears watering in her eyes too as she fumbled to get her phone from her pocket. The seconds felt too many as her shaky hands failed her.

“One of you has to call an ambulance, right now.” Aaron called out, cupping his hands over Lola’s arm, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

“I am. I am.” JJ’s voice trembled and she let out a relieved breath when she finally grabbed her phone, dialing 911. She grabbed Emily who had began depending on the wall as to not fall. Emily’s knees were weak and her body felt heavy as she felt an arm around her waist, pulling her away from the scene. Away from the image that was going to haunt her for years to come.

“How long, JJ?” The blonde heard Aaron ask.

“I don’t know. I’m trying to find out.” She inhaled, trying her best to comfort Emily who was seconds away from collapsing.

“Get me a first aid kit.” JJ didn’t know what to do. Her arm was beginning to hurt from trying to hold up Emily and her heart hurt as she couldn’t stop thinking about what was happening just a wall away. She couldn’t hear what the woman on the phone way saying, not clearly. She felt her lips move but she didn’t hear herself. She heard something that sounded like they were going to be there as fast as they could. JJ heard herself mutter a ‘thank you’ as she looked around for a first aid kit. She searched high up, seeing the green box she was looking for on a shelf. She reached up, her breaths uneven.

As soon as Aaron got a hold of the box, he immediately got to work, bandaging up his daughter’s arm, his chest hurting as he looked at his little girl, her face pale and head heavy.

“Lola, honey. I need you to look at me.” He said, slightly panicking as the blood seeped through the bandage. “Lola. Look at me.” His brown eyes met Lola’s dark ones. “Good. Keep looking at me.” He nodded, glancing at JJ who was barely visible behind the doorway. “JJ, get Rossi in here. You need to take care of Emily right now.” Aaron shouted, not sure if JJ even heard him through Emily’s sobs. There was no answer, but moments later, he heard hurrying footsteps and then David talking to the operator on JJ’s phone. Aaron exhaled, keeping light pressure on the bandage.

Without the phone in hand, JJ could finally keep her focus on Emily who was completely destroyed. In the corner of her eye, she saw Spencer rush in.

When Emily tried to go into the bathroom, JJ gripped her even tighter, keeping her away from the nightmare that was happening.

“No, no, no. Emily. Emily.” JJ softly spoke, her voice trembling as she lead the brunette out to the hall.

Emily leaned against the wall, hyperventilating as she slid down to the ground. JJ was right beside her, usually comforting words coming from her lips as her throat began to close up. They didn’t help much now. “Emily.” Her sobs were too loud. JJ placed her hands on Emily’s cheeks, caressing as she tried to initiate eye contact. “Emily, breathe. Emily. Emily. Look at me.” Emily looked up, her eyes carrying a certain heartbreak JJ had never seen before. Her feelings were overwhelming. “It’s going to be okay.” JJ nodded, Emily looked down, taking a short breath. “Look at me. Breathe.” Emily looked up again, her brown eyes staying on JJ’s blue ones.

“She looked like she was dead, JJ.” Emily was hysterical. The sentence made the blonde’s heart hurt.

“No, no, no. She’s not. She’s not dead. She’s not.” Emily just continued sobbing, placing her own hands over JJ’s.

“I can’t lose her. I ca—“ A sharp breath. “I can’t lose her, JJ. She’s my Lola. She’s my—“

“You won’t. They’re all helping her right now and an ambulance is coming. You will not lose her.” JJ heard her name being shouted and she panicked, not knowing what to focus on.

She quickly ran to the bathroom again, seeing Spencer in the doorway, looking at the scene with wide eyes. Quickly, she took a hold of his arms, looking into his eyes as she told him to go to Emily. He nodded, running out to the hall.

JJ exhaled as she rushed into the bathroom, seeing Lola’ scared eyes. JJ knew what the teenager needed.

Kneeling down, JJ placed her hands on Lola’s cheeks, looking into her misty eyes. The blonde tried her best to ignore just how much blood Lola was losing.

“Stay awake, Lola.” JJ chanted when she saw how Lola’s eyes began to slowly flutter closed. “Look at me. Stay awake.” JJ felt Lola grip her arm, blood smearing on her pale skin. There wasn’t much more they could do than internally pray that Lola was going to be okay.

Aaron had bandaged her arm and was keeping pressure on it. David had finished talking to the operator and now all they had to wait. It was the longest 10 minutes of her life. The longest 10 minutes of all their lives.

JJ’s eyes widened when Lola’s eyes closed completely. She lightly slapped her cheeks, chanting over and over again that she had to stay awake.

“No, no, no.” Her heart picked up speed for the thousandth time that night. “Lola. Lola. Lola. Open your eyes. Lola.” JJ teared up, she had never felt so hopeless and useless in her life. “Look at me.” The teenager suddenly opened her eyes, and JJ nodded in encouragement, never stopped looking into her eyes.

Lola’s vision was blurry when she opened her eyes. Her head was pounding and her ears were ringing. It took a while for her to realize who was in front of her. Her eyes finally focused after a while, seeing JJ looking at her with tears in her eyes. She felt the blonde’s hands on her cheeks, caressing lovingly, but Lola also felt how much they were trembling. Using all the little strength she had left, Lola weakly grabbed JJ’s hand, wanting her soft skin to be the last thing she felt, instead of her own blood, before she died.

A few beats and everything went black.

Now, as Emily sat in the hospital with the entire team there, no one speaking, she could not shake the thoughts of having to prepare to come home without her daughter. Having to tell Jack that his little sister had killed herself. She wouldn’t ever survive that. None of them would.

Emily closed her eyes, trying to get the thoughts to go away. She exhaled, gently squeezing JJ’s hand. The blonde hadn’t left Emily’s side since they arrived at the hospital.

Sitting in the waiting room was almost, selfishly, as bad as seeing her daughter on the floor. All the quiet, all the time to think about how long her daughter had been doing this. Emily didn’t miss the faint scars on her arms from what seemed like months prior to this. She didn’t know how they had missed it. Didn’t understand how Lola was in so much pain and they hadn’t seen it.

Emily felt a gentle squeeze back, but this time, it meant something more than comfort. Emily looked up, seeing a doctor walking towards her. She held her breath, putting her free hand where JJ and her were already holding hands, looking at the doctor with expectant eyes.

“Emily, is it?” Emily nodded, seeing Aaron come back from the bathroom. He hurried to Emily’s side when he saw the doctor. “We’ve moved your daughter to a ward.” The woman started. Aaron sat down next to his wife, Emily placing her head on his shoulder as they listened to the doctor, her hands still holding JJ’s tightly. “She’s just come out of surgery. She’ll need to be reviewed by psychiatry tomorrow morning.”

“Is she going to be okay, then?” Aaron asked, his voice hoarse and exhausted. Emily felt the way he sounded.

“We’ll know more tomorrow.” The doctor gave a comforting smile. “Do you want to see her?” Emily and Aaron both immediately nodded. Emily turned to JJ, giving her a small smile before she let go of her hand, feeling a small bit of emptiness at the loss of contact. Aaron placed his arm around Emily’s waist, both of them slightly shaking with nervousness as they followed the doctor down door after door.

Tears burned in Emily’s time again when she saw her daughter on the hospital bed. Seeing Lola so small and vulnerable, with a bandage covering her arm, made Emily quietly gasp. She was afraid she would never stop crying.

Aaron didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t know what to do. He was mad at himself for not noticing just how much his own daughter was suffering. He was sad for not noticing how much his own daughter was suffering. At the same time, he felt numb. The feeling of his daughter’s blood in his hands made him feel so many overwhelming feelings, but he felt numb at the same time.

Two chairs were placed next to the bed and the parents hesitantly sat down, looking at their daughter who was asleep. Emily grabbed her hand, caressing it and saw how many scars Lola had on her arms. Emily quietly whimpered and felt Aaron take Lola’s hand as well. She looked at him. The love of her life, and saw how much he was hurting too. She placed her free hand on his cheek, caressing it as a tear rolled down his cheek. Her thumb delicately brushed it away. She wanted to say something. But she didn’t know what. What are you supposed to say when your daughter slits her wrists?

“She’ll be okay.” Emily ended up saying. She wanted to take it back the second she began the sentence. Aaron said nothing, he just looked down at their hands. “Aaron, honey? Are you listening to me?” Her voice was gentle. “She’s going to be okay.” She didn’t know why she said it again. Aaron nodded, a slight, obviously unsure nod. “Honey… look at me.” He did and when he raised his head, Emily saw how much Aaron wanted to cry. Let it out. Emily prayed that he wouldn’t keep this in until he eventually broke.

Aaron stared at what could’ve been Emily’s face, but she was too good of a profiler to see that his eyes were resting at a spot just past her ear. Silence for a moment and Emily was afraid that she was going to have to beg him to talk.

“…I should have noticed.” The words came so unexpectedly that Emily barely registered what he said. She blinked.

“Aaron…” Emily cooed

“We’re profilers.” He scoffed, his shiny gaze slipping back to their hands. “We’re parents. I missed it.”

“We all did.” Emily spoke. It was true. It was most likely hopeful ignorance, denial. They had all noticed that something was off but they hadn’t given her more than invitations to talk. Aaron, at least, didn’t want to believe that it was anything too serious. He didn’t like to think of his children in pain, and he’d prefer to manipulate himself than to try and fix it. The guilt made him feel nauseous.

“I thought that after Reid, I would notice things like this. Notice if people weren’t okay and be able to keep a close eye on things.”

“She hid it well.” Emily spoke, voice unsure. The words were for her own benefit as well.

“Did she?” Aaron asked, his voice cracking in the slightest way as he looked up at his wife, seeing her hesitant facial expression. Emily didn’t know what to say, so she swallowed the thick feeling in her throat, looking at her daughter again.

Hours went by and the parents fell asleep. Emily was still holding her daughter’s hand, leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder. Aaron kept a hand around her as he leaned his head on hers.

Lola heard soft snores coming from somewhere. It took a moment for her eyes to relax at the harsh light that shone from the ceiling. She swallowed, her throat dry and sore. As soon as she noticed her parents, she felt claustrophobic in her body. She couldn’t quite move. She could wiggle her toes slightly and after a beat, she recognized her mother’s hand in her own. Mustering up strength, she squeezed slightly. The way her mother immediately woke up made Lola feel guilty.

“…Hi, baby.” Emily smiled, leaning closer to kiss Lola’s hand. Aaron also woke up when he heard Emily’s voice, looking at his daughter with so much sadness.

Lola looked at her parents for a moment before she turned her head as much as she could the other way, her feelings and memories catching up to her and she began to cry. Her face contorted into the most heartbreaking frown that made Emily’s heart hurt. She leaned closer, cooing.

“Hey…” She whispered, squeezing Lola’s hand tighter. “Hey, honey.” When Lola began quietly sobbing, Emily hushed her. Aaron placed his hand over Emily’s.

“I’m so sorry.” Lola whimpered, her chest hurting at all her family’s faces. The way JJ looked at her before she had passed out made its way to her mind.

“No, Lola. Don’t apologize.” Aaron spoke, voice gentle as he too, leaned closer.

“I’m so sorry.” Lola continued, feeling so utterly humiliated and embarrassed. She felt guilty for scaring everyone, and she did it all for nothing. It didn’t even work. She was still here. Still alive and with even more feelings of sadness.

“Sweetheart, listen to me.” Emily spoke. Lola turned her head, looking at her parents who seemed to do everything not to break down. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It is not your fault that you’re hurting, okay?” Lola still felt guilty, but she nodded, not wanting her parents to worry anymore. Although, she doubted they would ever stop worrying. They would never trust her to be alone again. She closed her eyes, wanting the ground to just swallow her whole. “We are here for you. Me, your dad, the entire team too. We love you so much, baby.” Lola swallowed her sobs, wanting to ask a question.

“Are you mad at me?” She whispered, her voice trembling. “Is the team mad at me?”

“No, no, no.” Emily shook her head, the concerned frown on her face that she so often had.

“No one is mad at you.” Aaron spoke. “No one. We’re worried, honey. We all love you and we care about you.”

“I’m sorry.” Lola spoke, she couldn’t ever apologize enough for hurting everyone like she did. Emily shook her head, her eyes soft.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

[blakeprentiss]

Aaron

my gif | read on AO3

Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss

summary: following a surprisingly emotional case for the usually well-tempered boss, hotch seeks out comfort in his favorite dark-haired agent, which obviously leads to a confession or two.

wc: 2335

warnings: none (?)

a/n: alternate ending to 7x10 the bittersweet science (the bloodlusting boxer). first fic i have written in two years pls be nice feedback is so appreciated xox enjoy!!

Any case involving kids is tough on the team, especially those who have one of their own. Factor in a young boy dying, however, and that’s enough to make move the usually stoic Aaron Hotchner to tears.

Which is exactly what was happening in that hospital room, Hotch having brought unsub Jimmy Hall to spend his last moments with his son. Standing far back enough to give the family some privacy, but still keeping an eye on the suspect of course, Hotch did his best to ignore the heartbreaking scene in front of him.

“You fought a hell of a fight, Ryan,” Hall spoke through sobs, his ex-wife a mess on the opposite side of the bed. Hotch felt it then, a salty droplet staining his face, and another one trickling to the floor. His expression never changed, however, doing as much as he could to maintain his professional look.

Emily and Rossi had met Hotch and Spencer at the hospital after learning of the outcome of Hall’s match, citing their presence as a second duo to help escort the unsub back to the precinct. In reality, Emily’s brain had gone on autopilot, creating such an excuse to mask her real reason for coming. She knew what Hotch would be feeling in those moments in that room, and she couldn’t bear for him to deal with it alone, if he even did at all.

Rossi didn’t mind this, of course. He always sensed the romantic tension between the two since his first day back in the unit, him and the other 5 team members having a bet going on how long it would take for the spark to finally be ignited. So, when he and Emily reached Spencer in the hallway outside of the Hall room, the three agents lined up against the wall.

Spencer made a bit of small talk about the case that had now begun the closing process, but in all honesty, Emily didn’t hear a word that was said. Her eyes were fixated on the man opposite the small pane of glass, his emotionless expression unwavering.

The three of them heard the unwelcome tone of the monitor flatlining, looking amongst each other solemnly. Minutes later, the door was opening as Hotch wheeled the unsub out of the room. Wordlessly, Rossi took the chair from the other man and begun leading him towards his own room, while Spencer brought his ex-wife in the opposite direction to console here. Aaron replaced Spencer’s position next to Emily on the wall, his eyes fixating on a painting across from the two of them.

“Rossi said he would take care of all the paperwork at the precinct and close up,” Emily spoke, turning to look at the man next to her. If she looked close enough, she could see the faint tear stain on his left cheek. “Let’s go back to the hotel, I’ll drive.”

Aaron nodded, wordlessly beginning to walk with Emily towards where she had left the car just hours before. Their hands found each other as soon as the hospital door closed, making both of their heart rates jump ever so slightly, though both would just chalk it up to the events of the night.

Aaron, ever the gentleman, opened the driver’s side door for Emily before slipping into the seat beside her. He wasn’t surprised by the blush creeping up her cheeks, he noticed it the first time he made the same gesture all those years ago. She turned on the car and begun the short drive back to their hotel. Classical music quietly played through the car radio, and Emily often turned to look at Hotch. She would see him staring out the window each time, but that’s because she was focused on the road each time he would steal a glance.

Soon enough, the pair arrived at the hotel, making their way to the elevator. The ride to the 12th floor was short, but felt like eternity for the two of them. Both lost in their own thoughts about love and life and death, neither noticed how close the other was until their arms brushed against each other. Aaron turned to Emily and looked down at her, a ghost of a smile on his face. A sad smile, but one nonetheless. She looked up, and he could sense the concern in her eyes.

“Thank you for the ride back, Prentiss,” he said softly, his brain itching to brush the fallen piece of hair behind her ear.

“You don’t have to thank me, Hotch,” Emily laughed quietly. “That’s what teammates are for.” She immediately had to hold back a wince at her word choice, knowing damn well she just friendzoned her boss. Then again, she didn’t feel as if this was the time or place to confess to feelings she’d been harboring for nearly five years. “Will you be alright tonight?” She asked to change the subject, out of concern for both her dignity and her boss’ mental state.

“I always am, Prentiss,” Hotch spoke as the elevator came to a stop. The two walked down the same hallway, Emily stopping at her door first. “Goodnight, Emily. Get some rest,” Aaron said softly, his hand brushing against Emily’s back in a way that toed the line of professionalism.

Emily did her best to not freeze at the touch of her boss in what some would consider to be quite a sensual spot. “Thank you, you too,” she managed to get out in a relatively normal tone. “Goodnight, Aaron.” Hotch gave Emily a nod before retreating to his own room, just a few doors down.

The first thing Emily did when entering her room for the night was turn the shower on and dig through her go-bag for the most comfortable clothing she could find. Hopping into the shower, she let the near-boiling water run over her skin as if she was trying to cook away the details of this case. After standing in the shower for what very well could’ve been over an hour, she stepped out and put on her clothes. She was just about to get into bed when there was a knock at her door. Assuming it would be JJ, she didn’t bother throwing on a hoodie before opening the door.

That felt like a mistake to her when she found Aaron opposite the door frame. It felt even worse when she became painfully aware that his eyes were briefly on her low cut, extremely cropped red tank top, which left hardly anything to imagination. And then she watched his eyes make their way to her low-rise sweatpants. Truly she could never feel more embarrassed than in that moment.

“Is everything alright?” Emily asked as she brought her arms up to her chest, itching to draw attention away from her. “Do we have another case?”

“No, no new case,” Hotch spoke quietly, meeting Emily’s gaze. “Do you mind if I just come in for a bit?” He looked away, almost embarrassed to be seeking out company from his subordinate at such an hour. Emily didn’t see it that way, of course, mainly because she could feel the emotions radiating off of Aaron.

“Of course you can,” she smiled and moved out of the way to let the older man in. Shutting the door, they both moved to sit on the edge of the king-sized bed. The pair sat in silence, but it was comfortable - neither felt any pressure to speak like they would if they were in the presence of anyone else. After a while, however, Emily wanted to say something, she just didn’t know what. She turned to look at the man next to her, who she found staring at the wall as tears slowly fell. “Oh, Aaron,” she sighed, putting her hand to his face and turning him to look at her. Her heart damn near broke at seeing him in such pain, the feeling reminiscent of when she had been there for him after he had lost Haley. She pulled him into a hug instinctively, his head seeking solace on her chest as she rubbed soothing circles into his skin. Neither were aware of the eroticism behind the position in that moment, both focused on the hurt and comforting in the present.

“I have no idea why this is affecting me so deeply,” Aaron laughed. “It’s not funny,” he added after seeing the woman’s puzzled look at his chuckle. “I usually have no true emotional reaction when cases involve kids, or the kids of unsubs, but this time I did and I can’t figure out why.”

His hands felt around until it found hers once again, the two of them grasping at each other like it was a lifeline.

“I think it’s because you saw that boy dying and it triggered you to think about what could’ve happened that day,” Emily said, looking at Aaron as he wiped a tear from his face. She didn’t have to specify what day or who could’ve died, they both knew what she meant.

“Doesn’t help that Dave’s been up my ass about dating too,” Aaron added, grabbing Emily’s attention even more. She couldn’t possibly figure out how that had to do with the idea of Jack dying. “He’s been pushing me to date since it’s been almost two years since Haley died, and I think you’re right, the details of this case must have triggered something in me.”

”Grief hits us in the least expecting places,” Emily commented.

“That it does,” Aaron agreed, turning his gaze back to the way. Emily did the same, and the two were silent again for a while.

“Rossi’s right though,” Emily said after a while, eyes staring at the same spot on the wall as the man next to her. “You probably should start dating again.”

“I’ve already had my eye on someone for a while,” Aaron said softly. This time it was him turning to look at the younger woman, using his hand to bring her head towards him before she even had a chance to react to his words. “And I know she’s been doing the same.”

“Really?” Emily asked, feigning innocence. “How do you know she’s into you?”

”There’s a reason they made me the leader of this team,” Aaron said, the insinuation that Emily doubted his ever so present profiling skills making her blush. “But in all honesty, she’s always there when I need her most, even if I don’t realize it myself at the time.” Emily smiled softly at that moment, her cheeks nearly burning as she used her free hand to fiddle with the waistband of her pants. “Plus, she loves to wear a certain red tank top on days when I have a perfect view,” Aaron added, making Emily laugh. His face moved closer to hers, as if asking for permission. Emily nodded and not a moment later, his lips were on hers, encapsulating them in a soft yet passionate kiss.

They broke apart after a while, when it got to the point when air became necessary. “Thank you,” Aaron smiled at her, wrapping his arms around Emily.

“For kissing you?” Emily joked softly. “I’m kidding, I know what you meant,” she added, pulling him into a hug. “I will always be there for you, no matter what.” Her hands ran through his hair, his making their way to the small of her back. “Would you like to stay the night?” She asked. Realizing how suggestive that sounded, especially after the past few minutes, she added quickly, “That way you don’t have to be alone tonight.”

“I’d like that, thank you, Em,” Aaron smiled. The two broke away, climbing under the covers. Their bodies drew to each other like magnets do to metals, reaching for each other until it was impossible to move any further.

“Is that really what gave it away?” Emily asked, moving her head into his chest as the two settled down for the night. “The red tank top?”

”Sort of, but it’s not what really confirmed my thoughts.”

“Well, what was it then?” Emily asked, wanting to know her tell.

”You called me Aaron today,” he said, planting a kiss to her temple. “Twice actually. You hadn’t done that since you found me in the hospital after Foyet got to me, and then again after Haley. And it slips out sometimes when we’re in private.”

”Oh,” Emily said sheepishly, a smile creeping up her face. “I guess I didn’t really try too hard to keep it professional.”

”Oh I didn’t mind one bit,” Aaron laughed, putting his arm around his girl, feeling her breathing even out as they both drifted to sleep.

***

”So, have you taken my advice?” Rossi asked, sitting across from Hotch on the jet. With the case closed and nothing but paperwork to look forward to at the office, the team resorted to their favorite pastime of gossiping. Today’s topic of conversation seemed to have focused itself on the boss man’s dating life, as it so happened to be recently.

“You’ll be happy to know I have a date on Friday,” Aaron said simply, his attention not leaving his paperwork. Emily’s attention was piqued, however, her eyes raising up from her book.

“Atta boy Hotch!” Morgan said excitedly, clapping Aaron’s back from the next seat over. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“You hardly know her,” Aaron commented, eliciting a scoff from a certain blonde across the table.

“I saw what room you went into last night,” JJ said, causing eyes to fall on the only other woman on the jet.

“That was for work business only!” Emily exclaimed. It technically wasn’t a lie, he had come in to discuss the feelings regarding the case.

“Em, I saw him leave your room late this morning when I came back from the gym,” JJ said, eliciting a blush from the raven haired woman as she nudged her.

“Aw man!” Morgan yelled, drawing the attention to himself. “Penelope owes me 50 bucks!”