Author's Note: So, I really don't know what to say about this story because the prompt summarizes it all. What is the prompt, you might ask? 'Preggo Emily on a motorcycle with Hotch, with a baby-kicking moment so that Hotch can feel his baby girl.' YES. But I actually had a super fun time writing this, and I hope you have an even...funner (?) time reading it! Enjoy! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters. I solely borrow them for the entertainment of myself and others.
"Emily. You don't have to wait for me, you know." Hotch gave his wife a tentative smile. "Go home. Get some rest."
She glanced down at her very pregnant belly pointedly. "I don't think I can go anywhere right now," she laughed. "I think our daughter's asleep," Emily said a beat later, her voice soft, tender. "At least, she's not moving around like a Mexican jumping bean, so I can only assume…"
Hotch chuckled warmly, then leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. "I'll try to hurry."
"Take your time," she countered, lazily stroking her swollen stomach.
Nodding idly, he glanced all around the bullpen. "Did everyone else leave?"
It was Emily's turn to nod. "Honey, it's almost ten. Of course everyone left," she quipped.
Hotch squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "Just give me thirty more minutes?"
"Of course."
Exactly thirty-one minutes later, Hotch wrapped his arm around Emily's waist as they exited the Bureau building, the door locking behind them. "What do you want for dinner tonight?"
"Hmmm…" She gave it some thought. "I have no idea. What are my options?"
"Well, there's that Indian food place down the street that Reid keeps raving about," Hotch suggested.
"I'm not so sure I can handle anything spicy right now, to be honest."
His eyes crinkled at her statement. "Right. Well, we could always order pizza." She grimaced. "Never mind. Um…how about Chinese?"
Emily's lips lifted at the corners a she felt their little girl kick in response. "Baby says yes to Chinese food."
Hotch grinned. "Then it's settled." He fished through his pocket for his cell phone. "What do you think? Should I call for takeout now so that by the time we get home, the delivery boy will be there in less than five minutes?"
"That sounds amazing," she answered. "I'm starving."
"When aren't you starving?" he teased.
"Hey!" She folded her arms across her chest. "You're not the one with a constantly hungry child in your stomach clawing at you twenty-four/seven!"
"You're right," he responded immediately, knowing all too well not to mess with a hormonal Emily. "I'm sorry, honey."
She didn't answer for a while, only raised an eyebrow when Hotch muttered, "Shit."
"What?"
"My cell phone ran out of battery," he grumbled, shoving the device back in his pocket.
"Here, use mine. I have them on speed dial anyway," she admitted with a laugh. There was a pause. "Of course, you could use mine if I can find it…"
"Maybe you left it on your desk?"
Emily sighed. "Either that or in your office." She ran a hand through her hair. "Oh, well. I guess we just have to order from home."
"Or we could just stop in the restaurant and order to-go," Hotch said, his hand resting on the small of her back as they walked to the car.
"Yeah, whichever one's quicker," she mumbled.
However, time was not on their side, a fact that Hotch soon discovered as he took the wheel and stuck his key in the ignition. "Ah…Emily?"
"Hmmm?"
"The car isn't starting."
She fixated her steely gaze on him. "That's not funny, Aaron."
"Believe me, I'm not trying to be funny," he said seriously. "The engine won't turn over."
"Well, damn," she said sarcastically. "That's fantastic news."
He frowned. "Em –"
"Let me try."
Needless to say, her attempts failed as well.
They sat there for a long minute, not speaking, simply staring out the glass pane of the windshield at cars going by.
"Try it again."
Hotch did. The car groaned but did not start.
"Call a taxi."
"I can't, Emily. My phone's dead, remember?" he asked bitterly.
"Well, we can't just sit here and do nothing!" Huffing, Hotch got out of the car. "Where are you going?"
He cocked his head down the street. "I'm going to walk to the Indian place. I know the manager; maybe he'll let me borrow his car."
Emily nodded curtly. "Hurry back."
He gave her a quick kiss. "I will."
When Hotch entered the restaurant and sought out his friend – Isaac was his English name – he was told five words that dashed all possible hopes.
"I don't have a car."
Hotch's face fell. Emily's words echoed in his ears. Well, damn. That's fantastic news. "Thanks anyway, Isaac."
He was reaching for the door when the other man stopped him. "But you can borrow my motorcycle, if you want."
Hotch bit his lip, paced the room slowly, weighed the pros with the cons. Then he nodded, only one thought running through his mind.
Emily was going to be majorly pissed.
~.~.~
"You have got to be fucking kidding me."
Hotch dismounted, kicking the stand out as he parked in front of her. "I wish I was."
Emily drew in a deep breath, counted to ten, released it. "Tell me, Aaron," she said in a voice so unnervingly calm. "What was going through your mind when you thought that a woman who is six months pregnant would be able to ride a motorcycle?"
"Honey, if I had another choice, trust me, I would have gone with it. But I know you're hungry, and I know you want to get home as soon as possible, and well…this was the only option," he sighed.
She narrowed her eyes. "Do you even know how to properly ride one of these?"
Hotch's lips quirked into a half smile. "You weren't the only one with a rebellious childhood," he said in means of an answer.
It took a good five minutes – and her very grumbling stomach – to convince Emily. "Fine," she eventually relented, still shooting him wary glances. "But Aaron James Hotchner," she whispered threateningly in his ear as she climbed in behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, "if anything happens to me, I will kill you with my bare hands. And I won't feel sorry about it, either."
A chill ran down Hotch's spine. "Understood, babe. Understood."
She rested her chin on his shoulder as he revved the engine. Then, before either could even think, they were flying down the highway.
Emily let out an endless string of expletives that would make a sailor blush. In the middle of it all, Hotch heard, "I never took you for a stupid man, Aaron!"
Choosing to ignore her comment, he said instead, "Careful now, Emmy. Wouldn't want our daughter's first word to be 'fuck', now would we?"
"You are so fucking stupid!"
Despite the circumstances, a silly grin painted Hotch's face. "Hey, I can feel the baby kicking my back –"
"Just shut up and get us home!"
Ten minutes later, he did.
In a stupor, Emily stumbled off the motorcycle. "You are so lucky I didn't go into labor, Aaron! So luckyI"
"At six months?" he muttered to himself.
She threw open the front door with a moan. "I'm going to be sick."
~.~.~
"…and that is why I am never going to let you buy a motorcycle, Jack," Emily finished explaining. "Not now, not ever."
The sixteen year old looked at his step-mother intently, waiting for her to cave, then sighed, knowing she wouldn't. Jack turned to face his father. "Thanks, Dad."
Hotch opened his mouth in protest as the boy retreated to his room, but any words he might have said were silenced by a slender finger to his thin lips. "Just accept it, Aaron."
"Emily, that was twelve years ago!"
"I never forget anything," the svelte brunette said, before brushing past him into the kitchen.
Hotch watched as she walked away, a tantalizing sway in her curvaceous hips. "Women," he groaned.
Emily smirked smugly. "Men."
THE END.
Author's Note: If you have the time, please don't hesitate to leave me a review or two - I always love to hear your comments, advise, feedback and other thoughts! :)