Summary: Find out how Mitch came to be a member of the Hotchner/LaMontagne/Prentiss family. Read "All This Time: Too Much Fun" first. This is for SussiRay who gave me the prompt "poodle."

Age Guide: Hotch: 49; Emily: 44; Sean: 34; Jack: 9; Henry: 6; Charlotte: 4; Ryan & Ben: Almost 2

February 2015

"Really?" Hotch asked with a surprised mile.

"Really," Emily said, returning a more certain one.

"Can we get a golden retriever?"

Emily shook her head and scrunched her nose. "Everyone has a golden retriever." She buttoned her blouse and reappeared out of the closet, dressed for work.

"When we made the deal that we would wait on getting a dog, you said a golden retriever was fine," Hotch reminded her. "Sean and I had one growing up. They're perfect family dogs."

"Yeah, but they're…overpopulated," Emily complained as she clasped her watch.

"So? They're gentle, and the twins and even Charlie are still really small," Hotch pointed out.

"Saint Bernards are gentle, too."

"Fair point, but Goldens are really smart, too. One of the smartest breeds."

"Not as smart as poodles."

Hotch shook his head and slid a tie around his neck. "I'll get sixteen cats before I get a poodle."

"What's so wrong with poodles? They're so underrated. Plus they're good guard dogs," Emily said.

"We've got two Glocks in the house. We don't need a guard dog," Hotch quipped. "We need a real dog."

"Fine, you know what?" Emily said. "We'll go to the humane society and see what they have."

"Can we at least agree on getting a puppy?"

Emily's eyes widened. "A puppy? Are you joking? We don't have time for a puppy."

"I want it to grow up with the kids," Hotch reasoned. "Between you, me, and Jack, we have enough heads and hands to housebreak him and keep him from chewing on everything."

"You're really convincing me here," Emily said sarcastically.

"It doesn't have to be an eight-week-old puppy," Hotch said, almost down on his knees begging. "We could get one that's maybe six months old. Still young but easily trainable."

"I thought they were supposed to be a smart breed," Emily noted.

"Now you're just trying to annoy me. Let's just…go to the humane society and see what calls out to us, like you said."

"No kids," Emily said firmly. "They'll insist on a puppy."

"Fine, no kids."

—

"I don't like that one," Jack said bluntly, walking back down the hallway toward the room that held, among other dogs, a three-month old male golden retriever. Hotch and Emily figured it had been a Christmas present sorely regretted.

"Honey, when people bring puppies to the pound, it's because they're too much to handle," Emily said. She rolled her eyes at Hotch's insistence that at least Jack and Henry come along with them. She had felt guilty about being so harsh that morning, so she had caved.

"We could handle him, though," Jack said as Henry joined him. "Can we go in and play with him?"

"Please, Mommy? I love you," Henry chimed in, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Yeah, please, Mommy?" Hotch asked playfully.

The puppy let out a high-pitched bark that was too much to resist, even for the hardened Emily who could see nothing but stained carpeting and shredded furniture. "Fine, we can ask to play with him, but no promises," she said with a resigned sigh.

As soon as an employee brought the wriggling puppy to a cubicle for the family to see, it hopped up into Emily's lap and licked her chin, causing her to cringe and contort her neck so as not to let him any closer to her mouth.

"Mommy, he likes you," Jack said with a toothy smile that Hotch encouraged.

"Are you sure you don't have any other…smart breeds?" Emily asked the employee. "Maybe a lab or a poodle or a border collie?"

"Sorry, we can almost never keep those for more than a day. Only reason this little guy is still hear is because he's got kennel cough. He should be just fine in a week or so, but that scares a lot of people off."

"How long've you had him?" Hotch asked while the puppy hacked a few times.

"A week."

"What happens if nobody wants him?" Jack asked the employee.

The employee shared an uncomfortable look with Hotch, and he let her off the hook her by saying, "Thank you very much. We'd like to spend a little more time with him."

"Of course." The employee gladly left the family alone.

"What happens if nobody wants him?" Jack repeated. "Do they put him on sale like the boots you wouldn't let Mommy get?"

"Uh, no, buddy," Hotch said with an awkward smile. "The humane society can only have so many dogs at once, and if nobody wants a dog, they have to…send him off to a special farm where they can run around with all the other dogs," Hotch said, chickening out at the last minute.

With a softened look, Emily told Hotch he needn't finish his sentence for her to get the point, even if Jack was blissfully ignorant.

"Hey, Henry, did you know the word for a girl dog is 'bitch'?" Jack said, laughing. The puppy hopped down from Emily's lap, finally, and wagged his tail on his way over to Jack.

Henry looked to Emily and said, "Bitch, bitch, bitch," having no idea that the other use of the word was inappropriate for someone his age.

"Thank you, Jack," Emily droned. She watched with a melting heart as the puppy littered Jack's giggling face with wet kisses, then traveled over to Hotch, then to Henry.

"Mommy, please?" Jack whined, going over to his father and scratching the puppy's ears.

"Please, Mommy?" Hotch said with a pout. "Come on, it's a sign. He needs a family."

As if he knew exactly what was going on, the puppy climbed back into Emily's lap, panting, and curled up into a little ball. She lay a hand atop his tiny head and he looked up at her with wide, dark eyes. "Well, we can't leave him here."

"Yes!" Jack shouted triumphantly.

"Everyone has to help out, though," Emily said sternly. "He needs to be fed, he needs water, he needs to be potty-trained, he needs to be let outside…he's just like a baby. He can't do things on his own. And we can't leave anything out for him to chew on."

"Okay, okay," Jack said, welcoming himself to Hotch's lap so he could get a better look at the puppy.

"Can we name him Bitch even though he's a boy? I like it," Henry said.

Knowing they would never hear the end of it if the rest of their family and friends heard Henry running around using that word, Emily said, "Henry, sweetie, that's not a word. Jack said Mitch, with an M." She shot Jack a warning glare and he hid his face.

"Okay, let's name him Mitch," Henry said, fortunately saying nothing about how Mitch was no name for a girl anyway and thus not questioning Jack or Emily.

Emily exchanged an approving glance with Hotch and they both nodded.

"Looks like a Mitch to me," Hotch said.

"Is he my dog? I found him first," Jack said, gathering the puppy up in his arms and fighting against the squirming.

"He's everyone's," Emily corrected him.

"Does he have a last name?" Jack asked.

Emily pumped some hand sanitizer onto her hands from a nearby bottle. "How about…LaMontagne-Hotchner-Prentiss?"

Three Weeks Later

Mitch yelped from his crate downstairs at one o'clock in the morning. "Your turn," Emily groaned, putting her back to Hotch and bunching up her pillows beneath her cheek.

"I got him last night."

"Yeah, well I don't wanna get up again," Emily said with a giant yawn.

"He's everyone's," Hotch teased. "It's your turn. Just bring him up to bed."

"Absolutely not. I don't want our bed to smell like dog. And he's not fully housebroken yet."

"If he makes a mess, I'll go to the laundry mat tomorrow," Hotch said, folding back the covers and heading for the door. He came back with Mitch in his arms, letting him lick his cheek. "It's okay, buddy," he said soothingly, sounding just like he did with the twins. "You can come sleep with us."

"Shame," Emily said once the newest addition was comfortable on Hotch's stomach, crying no longer. Most nights, all he needed was a little affection.

"What's a shame?" Hotch asked.

"I figured since we were both up, we could have sex, but I'm not doing it with the dog in here."

This reminded Hotch of a conversation he and Emily had had a couple of years ago. "I would never prioritize sex over the kids' wellbeing."

Embarrassed from setting herself up for such an easy jab, Emily crossed her arms. "He's a dog, not a kid."

"You know," Hotch said, coughing gently and getting comfortable, "I bet if we'd named him Henry, Jr., you'd be the one holding him right now."

"Would not."

"Oh, please. Please, Mommy? I love you?" Hotch parroted. "He's got you wrapped around his little finger. Not that that's news to anyone, including him."

Emily scoffed quite playfully. "At least he knows how to get what he wants."

"And I don't?" Hotch teased.

"Let me just ask you this. When's the last time I went down on you?"

A/N: Reviews are love!