Title: Someone Like You

Category: TV Shows » Criminal Minds
Author: Manicured Vultures
Language: English, Rating: Fiction Rated: K+
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Romance
Published: 11-01-11
Chapters: 1, Words: 2,998
Disclaimer: None of these character's are mine, this is purely for entertainment purposes.
Author's Note: I changed a few events around. Now, Minimal Loss occurred after Haley died. It's also implied Emily was there for Hotch and Jack a lot after Haley's death.

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited, but I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.

The fact that she was outside his front door at almost midnight was absurd and not to mention an utter cry for help – which normally wasn't her thing. Her face was still throbbing, and every time she inhaled it hurt, to the extent where she would have chosen to stop breathing had it have been an option. That wasn't why she was standing outside Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner's front door and feeling completely guilty about it though. The physical stuff she was a trooper with, it was the flashbacks and her sudden inability to sleep because of said flashbacks; they had been her push to leave her lonely little place on the other side of town.

The door swung open before she even knocked and she practically jumped from her skin.

"Hotch!" She squeaked in surprise, like he was the one who shouldn't have been there. His usual stoic expression didn't change. "Wh-How-I didn't knock." She finally spluttered out.

"Jack had a fever, he just fell asleep. I heard you pacing when I came to check the locks." The taller agent replied, a glimmer of worry obvious in his eyes.

Oh, she'd been pacing? She hadn't even realized. "Oh, I uh, I'm going to go." She hadn't planned on knocking, and now she felt like an absolute fool. She had barely turned on her heel when he told her to wait. He wasn't confident enough to catch her wrist.

"Come inside." It seemed like more of an order than an invitation and Emily obliged. He sure as hell wasn't about to turn her away after she'd had the living daylights beaten from her this morning, and she'd been a constant for both his son and himself after Haley's death. She stood awkwardly in the foyer. The brunette was no stranger to her bosses house, she'd cooked meals there, sung to and held the youngest Hotchner when he was in tears, coached the older through tough times. It was different when she was the damaged one, and this situation she was a stranger to.

How they ended up in the living room was beyond her but she sat down beside him when he gestured for her to do so. They stayed silent for a long while, neither wanting to be the first to speak. He wanted her to share on her own accord; he wanted to wait for her to speak like she had done with him months before. She didn't even want to speak. She wanted to flee and never show her face again. However after the awkward silence became too much to bare, Emily spoke, deciding not to make the move to face him,

"So Jack's sick?" Her voice was soft, a lot quieter than usual, and he could tell how uncomfortable she was.

"Yeah, probably just a head cold." He paused, turning to face the brunette. "Look, Emily, are you okay?" He was soft when he questioned her, not wanting to push her into talking. The use of her name didn't surprise her. It was something he'd started when she helped him through the long nights of endless guilt about Haley's death. It didn't seem strange though; every member of the team used her given name.

She turned to face him, her eyes showing obvious signs of tears. "It hurts, a lot." She laughed, swiping at the tears that had made their way down her cheeks. Hotch frowned, wishing she didn't feel the need to cover her pain with an empty laugh.

"I'd be worried if it didn't. I overheard what you said to Reid on the jet. I think it was really important that he heard that from you." Hotch let a microscopic smile slip momentarily and Emily nodded, wiping again at her tears. She was not crying in front of her boss.

He reached a hesitant hand over and gripped her forearm in the most comforting grasp he could muster. It was this that made her continue. "I just, I can't sleep, and all I want is to go to sleep. But when I'm alone, all I get are flashbacks, like a damn video recording playing on an endless loop." She gritted the words out in frustration at herself and her lack of an ability to get over what she saw as a mildly traumatizing event.

A frown knotted his brow as he squeezed her arm a little, not wanting to anger any of her wounds. He looked at the muted television for a moment before he turned back to her. She was staring at the ground, mind churning to keep the tears at bay. He sighed, hating the idea that she was hurting because he made the judgment call not to go in and get her earlier. "Well you're not alone here," he began, pursing his lips. "Lie down Emily, lie down and sleep." He watched her fight with herself before she caved and kicked off her shoes. She looked at the empty end of the couch, knowing full well how uncomfortable the armrests were to use as pillows. She looked back to Hotch, who merely nodded, and with another slightly longer inner-battle, she lay down on the sofa, her head resting in his lap. His fingers automatically ran through her hair, like she'd done on more than one occasion for both Hotchner men.

His hands in her hair settled her beyond belief, his callous fingers running through her dark silky locks, and in exhaustion, she closed her dark eyes. He could tell she wasn't asleep though. Her breathing wasn't even, and her index finger - the one that wasn't trapped under her cheek - was tracing absent patterns on his denim-covered knee. He continued running his fingers through her hair, detangling it and revelling in the feeling of comfort it provided him. He traced his finger along her hairline, tucking stray strands behind her ear gently. Her skin was a lot softer than he'd expected. It was flawless and clear porcelain.

Her breathing had just calmed, to the point where she was either sleeping or meditating, but as soon as that peace came, it was gone. The cause of this was the teary eyed little boy standing in the entrance way to the living room. The four year old was trying - and failing - to contain his sobs, and Emily being the light sleeper she was, was awake as soon as she felt his presence in the room. She sat up slowly, her eyes softening at the look on the little boys face. Jack ran into the room, launching himself into her awaiting arms.

She rocked with him, running a hand across his forehead and through his hair. "Oh sweetie," she began, pressing her lips to his forehead. "You're feeling pretty sick huh?"

Jack nodded his head against her shoulder and Hotch spent a moment admiring the fact that twenty minutes ago she'd arrived at his door in pain, and now she pushed it away to help his son. She had always been like that though, he mused. Emily always put the needs of others before herself. She was always willing to help, but never asked for anything in return. She had never asked for anything from him, even though she'd spent many a-night listening to his problems.

"Baby, you're really hot." She mumbled against Jack's temple and Hotch sighed.

"I don't know what to do. I've given him something to try bring the fever down but it only worked for half an hour." The older Hotchner ran his hand through his son's hair, well and truly at loss as to how to help him.

"There's something my Dad used to do." She paused, looking to him. "Do you mind?"

He shook his head. "By all means, go for it." He observed her as she got to her feet, his interest and curiosity peaking. She walked down the hall; Jack curled securely in her arms, disappearing into the bathroom. Hotch followed, standing in the doorway, watching as she placed Jack on his feet who whined and rubbed at his eyes.

"Alright sweetie," she mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. "We're going to make you feel a bunch better." She spoke as she went about unbuttoning the little boy's flannel pyjama shirt. Emily pushed it off his shoulders, leaving him in a small white singlet. Next she helped him from his tiny pants and stood from her kneel. He couldn't see her unbuttoning her shirt but admittedly he was surprised when she shrugged off her white worktop. This left her in what appeared to be - from the back - a Navy blue ribbon trimmed bra. While she was taking off her shirt, Jack had attached himself to her legs, and once she was shirtless, she lifted him back into her arms and opened the shower door.

The spray was colder than one would normally have it, but it wasn't pure freezing as she stepped under it. She sat down on the tiles surface of his shower, the water already eliciting goose bumps from her skin. Jack's head was resting on her shoulder, his body curled up against her chest. She brought up her knees, trapping the little boy in the gap her legs and torso created. Hotch watched in utter disbelief as his half naked subordinate sat underneath what was without a doubt, chilly water, to bring down his son's fever.

"It's cold Em'ly." He heard Jack mutter, to which Emily pressed a kiss to his temple.

"I know sweetie, but a little while longer and you won't be so hot." She ran slender fingers through his hair, and Hotch couldn't help the pang of jealousy he felt directed at his son. His little ear was pressed over her heartbeat, his fingers gently tracing the edge of her bra. Emily didn't seem to mind though, as she sat drenched under the cold spray of the shower.

It felt wrong, standing there, watching both of them like this, especially considering that Emily was no where near completely dressed, but he couldn't take his eyes from her breasts, that were trapped securely in her bra, or the perfect and toned expanse of her stomach. She was utterly beautiful to him, sitting there, hair plastered to her face.

He almost spluttered out an apology when she turned off the running water and got to her feet, before he realized that she couldn't read his mind and she was probably moving because Jack was back to the temperature of normal people. She cradled Jack against her chest; long arm snaked around his back and hooked under his knees. Emily pushed the shower door open and gratefully accepted the towel Hotch handed her. She wrapped it as best she could around the little boy and, leaving a trail of wet patches behind her, walked down toward Jack's bedroom. When she rested Jack down he was fast asleep, and she kneeled beside his bed, drying his little body with the towel and tugging off his singlet before tucking him under the covers. When she stood she shivered and then froze as Hotch wrapped a towel around her body. After the initial shock of having her boss's arms wrapped around her faded, she accepted the towel and wrapped it tighter as she walked from the room, Emily creating a new trail of smaller puddles. She turned back to look at the hallway when they reached the kitchen.

"Sorry for the mess I made." At first he thought she was joking and he almost laughed, until he realized she was completely seriously and seemingly remorseful.

"Don't worry about that. Thank you for bringing down Jack's fever enough for him to sleep."

"You don't know that I actually brought down his fever Hotch," she challenged, grasping the towel tighter.

"You wouldn't have left that shower until you did."' He countered, kneeling to turn on the gas log fireplace in the lounge room.

"The water was cold." She replied, a little unnerved at how sure Hotch was about her.

He turned to her after the heater was on, shaking his head. "But you would have stayed in that shower for as long as it took." He gestured for her to come to him and she obliged, chewing her lip. She was finding it harder to deny the attraction. "Stand here, get warm. I'll be back in a minute." His hands brushed over her shoulders as he moved her to stand in front of the heater before he disappeared down the hall.

He returned moments later to find she hadn't moved from her place. He held out his hands, offering her the jumper and sweats that weren't even going to stay on her hips. She took them gratefully and moved regretfully from the warmth of the heater, walking back down toward the bathroom. He turned the kettle on while he waited for her, checking the time. A little past one in the morning, apparently.

The sweat pants he'd given her were way too big in every sense of the word. They just dropped from her hips and were so long that she would trip over them if she were to walk. She had to roll them up until they were at her ankles and use the tie that previously held her hair together to tie a knot in the waistband of the pants. If she were honest though, she'd admit that she was happy to be in his clothes. Her hair had already started to curl as she walked back into the kitchen, holding her wet clothing.

"I made you some tea, here sit down." Hotch offered the seat and she sat, surprised when he took her clothing from her. She pursed her lips as he walked away, suddenly finding it very confronting that her boss was about to find her bra mixed in with her wet pants and damp shirt. It was one thing to see it on her, another to know she wasn't wearing one at all.

Her heart skipped a beat when Hotch reappeared, taking the mug from her hands and turning the bar stool to face him. He took her small hands in his much larger ones, his thumb running gently over her skin. "I'm sorry that you came here for help and you ended up having to help Jack." His apology was sincere but she shook her head.

"Don't be... I feel better." Her reply came out a breathless whisper as his hand reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb sweeping lightly over her bruised cheek.

"You've done so much for us Em, I don't know where Jack and I would be without you." It was his turn to feel the need to whisper.

She felt it before she saw it coming, and it wasn't until her eyes closed on their own accord that she knew he was going to kiss her. And sure enough, a second later, his lips were on hers. Their kiss was a soft, hesitant whisper and Emily stood still, arms dangling by her sides. When he pulled away her eyes were still closed and it took her a moment to open them slowly. He didn't know whether he'd done the right thing or not.

And then she smiled, soft and sweet and he felt his own dimples making a slow appearance. She bit her lip again, a movement he'd always seen as extremely sensual on her. Her eyes moved from the floor up to meet his before she stepped closer, her still cold hands running up his arms to eventually loop behind his neck. Then she kissed him and he opened to her as soon as her tongue ran across his bottom lip. It wasn't frenzied. Their tongues met and they moved together slowly. One of her hands ventured up to press against his cheek and his joined at her lower back, pulling her flush against his body.

When she pulled away she stepped from his arms, falling gracefully back onto the barstool. "It's late," he stated, continuing quickly before she could offer to leave. "Stay the night Emily. Get a proper sleep." Again, it wasn't a question and all she could do was nod. He took her hands again and pulled her from the stool, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Stay with me."

She let him lead her down toward his bedroom, and when he opened the door she realized just how exhausted she was. He dropped her hand to pull the covers back and then gestured for her to sit. Emily crawled under the heavy covers, burying her face in a pillow that smelt just like him. Hotch disappeared into the en suite, returning seconds later in a pair of sweats. The sight of him shirtless caught Emily's breath and all she could do was stare as he climbed into the bed beside her. She was the first to move, cuddling into his side, her head resting over his heart.

Author's note; This is the first story I've written for Emily and Hotch, so be friendly. Obviously inspired by Adele's 'Someone Like You'.