"What about this one?"
The Italian man didn't even have to look at the car for more than two seconds before he guided the younger woman in the other direction. "A lemon," he drudged out, almost groaning at the sight of a couple taking every word their salesman told them as the straight truth. "You're lucky you brought me."
Emily rolled her eyes, feeling her friend put an arm around her shoulders. "Right."
"Now what year do you want?" He pointed over to a little red number over in the corner of the parking lot. "1996 Porsche 993 C4S? It's a beauty, isn't it?" A modern classic.
Looking over to the car the older man had his eyes on, the brunette in the floral dress made a face. "That looks like the car I had in college," she almost snorted. "No."
The Italian man smiled, seeing one of his favorite models by the first window they passed. "Emily," he grinned, moving his arm from her shoulders and running - what people at his age could constitute as running - over to the dark blue car. "A Stingray."
Emily's lips curled inward, trying her best not to show her distaste as she walked over to the convertible.
"1963 Chevy Corvette." Dave ran his hand over the shining paint job, moving around to the driver's side to get a feel for the steering wheel. "How nice would this baby look driving down the Pacific Coast highway, huh?"
"Dave, we live in D.C."
The older man glared at his friend. "Ever heard of a vacation?"
Emily laughed, walking around the car to stand next to her friend as her head shook. "With our job?" she joked. Putting a hand to Dave's back, she waited for him to stand straight. "Come on, Dave. I just want a regular car."
Hers had broken down a week prior, and after taking it to the shop the mechanics said that it would be easier to buy a new car instead of have everything she needed replaced, replaced.
Fixing the lapels of his suit jacket, Dave looked down to the younger woman. "There's no such thing as a regular car, Emily."
She held her hands up in surrender. "Fine," she shrugged, "then just a nice car that can get me to work and back home." The FBI agent paused. "Maybe to the beach for the weekend if the job allows it."
Hearing a few car horns back on the highway behind them, Dave ignored, walking into the car dealership to find a salesman. "You realize you have the kind of money to buy ten of these dealerships," he whispered in her ear, hearing the brunette by his side start to laugh. "We can go to my guy's place and get you a car that no one in your neighborhood can buy."
Emily's brow furrowed. "Since when am I the bragging type?"
She had him there. He knew that the other agent had always been able to support herself, yes some from her parents and their status but as a college student she had invested the money she made and paid off her loans within her first year of being out of school. If she wanted, Emily Prentiss wouldn't have to work a day in her life.
"Well what type?" he asked, leading her through the cars on the floor. "An SUV? A bug?" he laughed, meeting her smiling eyes.
Emily's head shook, her natural curls that she ever so rarely let free flowing around her shoulders as she moved. "We already have an SUV at home for the kids," she mused, her dark eyes roaming the available cars in the showroom. "Maybe a sedan? We don't need anything big."
Standing back as she watched her friend walk over to who they both knew the manager was, Emily looked around at the cars. Hers had been black, a sleek looking Mercedes that had lasted her a good couple of years, but maybe it was time for an all around change. She had two kids and a husband, they had even gotten a dog two months ago. She wasn't the same woman she was five years ago.
"Sweetheart?"
The brunette turned to see her husband walking toward her, their baby daughter strapped to his chest. "Hi," she grinned, stepping up on her toes to kiss him.
Hotch looked around for the older man his wife had invited with them to car shop. "Where's Dave?"
"Talking down the manager," she snorted, watching as Dave turned the salesman's attention from him back to the car he was in front of. "What took you so long?"
Looking down to the sleeping little girl in the carrier he wore, the BAU Unit Chief pressed the lightest of kisses to her still bald head. "This little one made a stinky in the car," he cooed, playing with her small hand.
Emily laughed, running her hand down Aubrey's covered back.
"Ok," a new voice boomed, and they turned to see the manager and Dave walking back over to them, "Mrs. Rossi, your husband tells me you're looking for a car."
Hotch's face immediately fell, his dark eyes glaring at the older man he called his friend.
Emily blushed. "Right. Can you show me a few sedans?" Gesturing to her friend, her amused eyes settled on his, the mother of two shrugged. "We have two kids, so we need some room and a car that gets good mileage."
Waiting until his wife and the salesman walked back out into the parking lot, Hotch reached out and slapped the older agent. "What the hell is the matter with you?"
The writer glared. "You wanted a good deal, didn't you?"
"Yeah, my wife and I wanted a good deal on a car."
"Well you were late," the older man ground out.
Walking up to the pair, a saleswoman who had been watching the exchange put a hand out to gain their attention. "Excuse me, sirs? Are you alright?"
Dave looked to the beautiful young woman, ready to put on his signature smile and step over to introduce himself.
"I'm sorry," Hotch spoke up, putting his arm around the man who had been his friend since his academy days just like Dave had done to his wife a few minutes prior. "My husband and I get a little upset when we try and negotiate," he laughed lightly, shrugging when the young woman's face lit up in realization. "But thank you so much."
The Italian man would have pushed his friend to the ground if there wasn't a baby strapped to his chest. "I could kill you."
"And I could kill you," the father of two smiled, "but then we wouldn't get the deal on this new car." Turning along with Dave, Hotch led him out to where Emily was looking at a crystal clean new red car. "Come on, hubby."