Breathing harshly through her nose, the newly forty year old woman tried her best to ignore the burning underneath her ribs and keep up with the man she'd been dating for the past five months.
After knowing each other for decades, working with one another for just six of those, she had finally heard him out on his proposition. Once before, Hotch had asked her to have dinner with him after a particularly brutal case, but her mother called not a moment later demanding that she come to dinner, and Emily had been forced to turn the older man down.
He waited another year before trying again.
After he tried the first time, Haley had died, and it had taken him longer than he thought to get over the woman he still loved no longer being there. Throughout that year, Emily had never left his side. It only proved to him what he already knew: she was the one for him.
"Babe?" Turning, the brunette man stopped his stride. "Is everything ok?"
Emily had stopped a moment earlier, bending forward with her hands on her knees.
Quickly he made his way back to her, a hand to her back. "What happened?"
The brunette woman shook her head. "Why do you do this every morning?" she huffed, standing straight and setting her hands to her hips. She watched him smile at her as she felt the sweat drip down her brow. "You realize I've only just gotten over being shot, correct?"
The older man eyed the way his girlfriend was heaving, and he set a hand to her shoulder. "Come on, let's find a place to sit."
She shook her head, moving his hand from her with a shrug of the shoulder. "Just give me a minute." Breathing hard through her nose, the FBI agent could feel her chest ache.
Hotch could tell from the look in her brown eyes that she was in pain. Why she never let him help her, he didn't know. "I'm sorry," he said softly, stepping toward her. "You said you wanted to get back out there, and instead of going to the gym and risking getting injured I thought jogging would be better."
The brunette narrowed her gaze on the older man. "You didn't answer me. Why do you do this every morning?"
He watched her shoot him a smile, and he shook his head. "Clears my mind," he shrugged, smiling to the beautiful woman as they started slowly walking down the street. "And it doesn't hurt that it makes me look a little better."
Emily almost doubled over as she laughed, the snort coming from her nose louder than she expected as her boyfriend flexed for her.
"Why don't you run?" While he stuck to the treadmill or the dumbbells, he knew the younger woman liked to go to the gym and use the boxing ring and take on other agents that wanted to use the mats.
She shrugged, watching a few teenagers skateboard past them as it grew easier for her to breathe. "You know me," she smirked, "I'm competitive. And running just wasn't any fun for me."
Hotch's brow pinched slightly. "Running can be competitive."
The ambassador's daughter rolled her eyes. "Running is about who's faster, but that's basically it. Wrestling is about strength and technique, and boxing is a lot more thrilling that jogging down a sidewalk."
Turning her head, Emily watched her boyfriend make a face at her analysis. "What? You disagree?"
"Strongly," he nodded.
"Fine." Stopping her stride, the FBI agent stood in front of her boyfriend and held out her hand. "How about this? Once I'm fully healed, for one week I'll take up your exercise routine and you'll take up mine, and at the end of seven days we'll see who feels better." Seeing his brow raise, she smirked, flexing her arms just as Hotch had a moment ago. "And looks better."
Smiling wide at the glee he saw on Emily's face, the Unit Chief shook his head. He was surprised not every day with the younger woman was a competition. "Fine."
Emily held out her hand again, taking her boyfriend's hand and shaking it. "Deal."
When his girlfriend turned to start walking once more, Hotch reached out to take her hand. "What exactly are we wagering here? What does the winner get?"
Sticking out her bottom lip, Emily let the older man intertwine his fingers with hers. "Winner gets the pride of knowing their workout was best," she shrugged.
As they rounded the corner Emily's hand tightened around Hotch's, and she brought him to her side. "And," she added, winking up to him playfully, "the loser has to do whatever the winner requests in bed."
The Unit Chief held in his sigh, smiling at the triumphant grin Emily held on her face. She had been dying to test out her fantasy for weeks and he hadn't been quite comfortable.
"Deal?"
He listened to her shriek as he reached around and tickled her side, yanking gently on her ponytail to get the smug look from her face. "Deal," he huffed. He had listed to his girlfriend go on for days about what she had wanted him to do, but he hadn't told her what he wanted just yet.
Smiling, he wrapped an arm around her, his hand cupping her hip. He'd make sure to win.