Thomas Jefferson once said, "Nothing gives one person so much advantage over another as to remain always cool and unruffled under all circumstances."
.
As soon as she puts her glass down, she knows it was one too many. It's not just the buzz anymore, it's the world going brighter, sleepier… Just relaxing altogether. And she's feeling brave like nobody's business.
Maybe that's why when Hotch turns and calls, "Emily", her muscles act before her brain decides to, and she steps closer. Close enough for him to lean back, ever so slightly, but also enough for her to reach him, resting her arms lazily on his shoulders.
"I don't usually touch people. And people don't usually touch you." She leans a little closer, and waits for a reaction that never comes. His eyes are locked with hers, unnervingly unfazed, but at least he hasn't withdrawn. "We should be more social, don't you think?"
It was just a few inches further really, so she can't justify not leaning in to rest her head in his shoulder too. All of her movements, especially her head's, are tiring and sudden. And it's him, it's his warmth. She doesn't want to move away.
"Emily." Again, too close to her ear. "Are you alright?"
Perhaps she should have stopped a few glasses ago. Perhaps she is already in the depressive stage of liquor induced happiness. All she knows is that it feels warm. So she nods into his neck, eyes closed.
"Maybe we should take you home."
When her brain makes the sirens sound and she steps back, it hits her like a slap in the face that he's still just standing there. He didn't hug her back, or even touch her. His expression hadn't changed. Suddenly she was afraid he was trying to deal with the situation as he would a hostage negotiation.
She didn't touch people, and they didn't touch her. People didn't touch Hotch, and he didn't touch people. They both were assertive, with a strong sense of personal space. But then why had his body against hers felt so comforting?
"No, no, it's ok. You shouldn't have to spend your one free night tending to drunken colleagues. Because Lord knows I am." Her laughter dies out rather quickly, partially because it wasn't sincere, and also because he hadn't joined her.
He is about to say something, but he doesn't have the time before Reid comes back announcing he loved them all very much, but that he was definitely going home. She looks for any sign that Hotch might want her to stay, and finds none. At least there isn't any relief either.
She doesn't even mind that it is Reid driving. He is very good at hearing a sullen woman's drunken ramblings.
.
The whole weekend she beats herself up about it, but Monday mornings are too depressing on their own to keep it going.
She's focused on reading their newest case file when she feels him hovering near. While he discusses the case, his hand on her shoulder, squeezing.
When they're leaving, his hand's on her back. His nonchalant whisper, "You're right. We don't touch enough."
And Emily doesn't know what to say.
But she still smiles.
