A/N: Just another in my long line of Hotch/Emily fics, because I can never get enough of the two of them, her especially, and now she's gone and I just- *sobs heartbrokenly*
But you didn't come here for that, did you? You came here for teh fluffies, because I provide them always. Well, my dears, I wish you much joy in your perusal of this work of fiction.
Disclaimer: If these belonged to me, I would not have had to explain the concept of fanfiction to the girl who sits next to me in my math class.
Emily pressed her palms into her eyes, and watched stars burst behind her eyelids. She was so tired, and she just wanted to go home. Why did there have to be paperwork?
She jumped violently as large, calloused hands touched her bare neck. "Hey," a deep, familiar voice murmured, "it's just me."
Emily sighed and relaxed slightly. "You scared the crap out of me, Hotch," she said.
His hands began working at a tight knot in her neck. "You're really tense," he said quietly, ignoring her previous comment.
"I'm exhausted," Emily admitted. Since her return to the BAU, she and Hotch had been getting closer. They had been talking a lot, and about more and more personal things. Emily had been to Hotch's apartment several times, and had become one of Jack's favorite people.
Hotch had worked out the knot in Emily's neck and had moved on to her shoulders. Emily suppressed a pleasured groan with difficulty. "I thought you'd gone home for the night," she murmured.
"Paperwork," Hotch said simply in explanation. He brushed her hair in front of her shoulders so he could keep working at her tense muscles without snagging her black locks.
Emily closed her eyes, relaxing entirely. "Thanks, Hotch," she murmured. "That feels great."
When he didn't respond, she twisted around to look at him. The expression she caught on his face was soft, gentle, almost loving, and it took her breath away. Not knowing what else to do, she turned back around and let him continue working. His fingers moved back to her neck, and this time, Emily couldn't control her groan. Hotch's hands stopped for a moment, then continued rubbing her neck and shoulders.
Emily stiffened suddenly; something soft and warm was pressed into the back of her neck. Hotch was kissing her. Hotch was kissing the back of her neck. Peripherally, Emily knew she should be surprised, shocked, even, but it felt too good and too right.
When Hotch pulled back, Emily spun her chair around to face him. He looked shocked, as if he hadn't meant to do it, and a little sheepish. For a moment, neither of them moved, and they just looked at each other. Then he whispered her name and she was out of her chair and in his arms and he was kissing her more thoroughly than she had ever been kissed in her life.
She had no idea how long they stood there, kissing and clinging to each other as though their lives depended on it, but wasn't long enough. It would never be long enough. Emily thought that she could hold him and kiss him forever, but she was quickly finding it difficult to breathe.
"Emily Prentiss," Hotch murmured when they finally broke apart, "you are far too tempting for even my willpower."
Emily laughed breathlessly and replied, "Then why did it take so long?"
Hotch smiled, a little sheepishly. "Clichéd as it sounds," he told her, "I didn't know what a treasure I had until I lost her."
Emily buried her head in Hotch's shoulder to hide her blush. She felt him press his lips to her hair and tighten his arms around her. He began stroking gentle circles in the small of her back. "You have magical hands," she said, he voice slightly muffled by his jacketed torso. She felt his lips stretch into a smile against her head, and his hand kept rubbing.
She was tired. She was so, so tired, and the protective way he held her, the soothing way he touched her made her feel like she could fall asleep right there. She felt so comfortable, so safe, that she thought that maybe she wouldn't have nightmares when he held her. Maybe she wouldn't wake up in a cold sweat every two hours, wondering if she was really alone. Maybe she wouldn't be too tired for this job anymore. Maybe she could stay.
"What are you thinking?" Hotch asked quietly.
Emily had to fight off her first urge to lie; she didn't like telling people about her nightmares, but Hotch already knew. She trusted him—he was a man who was inherently difficult not to trust—but she hated seeming vulnerable. Still, she took a deep breath and whispered, "That I feel safe. That if you hold me, maybe I won't have nightmares."
"Oh, Emily," Hotch murmured, his arms tightening around her again. She felt him turn his head, and he kissed her just behind her ear. His mouth still next to her ear, he whispered, "Come home with me, tonight and every night, and I'll keep you safe."
In lieu of verbal assent, Emily kissed him hard.
That night, she woke up only once, and though she knew immediately that she was not alone, the knowledge did not terrify her like it could have, but rather made her calm down more quickly, especially when he said her name.
She rolled over in his arms. "You said you stayed late to do paperwork," she commented. "I thought you finished yours on the plane."
His smile was practically audible in his voice. "I said I stayed late because of paperwork," he corrected her. "I didn't say whose."