Hello! It's me again! How do I begin to explain how much this fanfic is important to me? Well, this is the first plot I created about Criminal Minds (and Hotch/Prentiss). This came to me as I started watching the show and then I thought: "I'm gonna finish the whole thing and then I can write it!". That's the point when one thing led to another, I postponed this for way too long but then, all of a sudden, my muse kicked me and said: "If you don't write it now, you never will". Therefore, I wrote the first chapter like three weeks ago and so far I have four chapters - almost - ready to publish (Fran knows lol)! I really do hope you enjoy it!
As always a special thank you to my magnificent beta Betty Drake (I'll always tell you to check her fanfics bc she rocks out) & to the best editor whom made this amazing cover, Franjp (yes, she created an account).
Disclaimer: The characters are intellectual property of CBS, therefore, this is a fan work without financial gain and with the only purpose of entertainment.
"BIRTHRIGHT"
She watched him leave with bemused, saddened eyes. The brown orbs following the move of his broad suit jacket clad back. Her chest tightened and Emily swore to God she couldn't take the pain of a defeated Hotch. It was stupid, of course, even after all their complicated beginning. Okay, there was nothing that much complicated, actually. There was anger, and that was that, nothing more, nothing less.
She wouldn't be the hypocrite to say that she adored him even though he almost spit in her face. Emily Prentiss had her pride and even with all the conditions for her to join the team, he had no right to be a pain in the ass and that was the last thing she wanted anyway. But after Milwaukee, there was no point in keeping that shit going. They both withdraw that stupid game of who hated the other one more and who had the morals or who had the guts.
Things flowed "easily" from that day forward. Prentiss could even think she saw a tinge of some different feeling when her reckless self decided to surface and she slipped the most intelligent idea of going inside the unsub's house on her own. Put aside the tormented look he had when he found her fallen to the floor with a bleeding wound.
She needed to help him in any way she could. Her short exchange of looks with the team, especially Dave, told her that she should act since none of them even motioned to do something about it. Maybe that's the way it was, or used to be, whatever. Because that was supposed to change now as Emily moved on her heels and crossed the glass door, leaving the others behind with surprised, confused expressions.
The brunette couldn't reach him by the bureau's garage in time. When she made it to her car, his SUV - which was parked at Dave's left - was gone. Prentiss took a deep breath, the coldness and loom of the late night's air filling her lungs in slow motion. Something tightened in there.
The moment she came to her senses, her hands were folded across her chest, the black boots clashing against the curb of the quiet neighborhood. Albeit she had no idea of what she should even say - not to mention, do - her intentions were the best and perhaps that could help by itself.
She knocked on his door, wondering whether she should smile or keep a straight face. As the period of awkward silence lingered, Emily came to her terms with respect and a tinge of worry on her body language. Yes, she knew better than to flood him with emotions and concern. She knew he would feel weak and worthless and they were similar in that specific way. They both hated this sort of feeling towards them.
Her knuckles hit the wooden door again, harder this time, after trying to ring the bell with no success. It was broken just as much as the man probably in there. Silent and broken.
'One last time', she chanted inwardly, fists in the air in a worried attempt. She stopped wheels on the track. He could have passed by some random bar on the way home, he could be talking to Haley or Jack. Perhaps he had another place to go first and she was the stupid for not calling before.
"Emily?" the masculine voice echoed through the empty doorway.
She spun on her heels, hands tucked on her pockets protectively, eyes pouring an undisputed disturbance and all her plans of non-emotional display went to hell.
They had a small talk, few words, long silence. It took Emily some approaching to her nostrils finally capture the smell of alcohol and frustration emanating from her boss. A crooked smile appeared when he asked her to come in.
"It's late, the psychos might show up" he murmured before swinging the door open. She would have said that he should drink more often, but she watched many of her friends fall to their lowest because of that. She couldn't let that happen to him.
Lights on, she carefully roamed the comfy house as Hotch disappeared down the hall which led to the kitchen. Haley probably chose the furniture with great care, aiming the future children who were supposed to run around the place. Now those were ghosts and it felt hollow.
"Scotch or wine?" his voice trembled and she stammered lamely before asking for the latter.
Pouring rain hit the windowpane at the exact moment Emily downed the last droplets of her wineglass. Hotch had finished his scotch sooner and she could almost taste how drunk he was even as they sat on the floor.
At some point, he rolled up the sleeves of his neatly ironed shirt, even undone his tie as it hung loosely around his neck, and oh those boyish strands of raven hair falling across his forehead mixed with the flush of his cheeks. Altogether, those cues just gave him some exquisite air of youth and danger.
Emily herself had her grey sweater off, which was folded in a very meticulous way upon the armchair. Her silk hair falling over her shoulder blades. She had one bare foot under the coffee table and the other one closer to her body as she flexed that leg.
The conversation between them went better than expected, probably due to the great amount of alcohol running in their veins. She'd never thought he'd be the talker type, but he proved her wrong. He asked her if she enjoyed the Beatles and she only nodded and played along. When 'Martha My Dear' etched on his skin, he told her it was Haley's favorite and resigned to that until the last melody of the song.
Then he told her. Everything. What he thought, what he did, what she did, what he thought she was thinking. About Milwaukee, about his transfer and about Jack in the very end. Though she never knew what he felt and his voice sounded even and sober as he spoke his mind, this was just the surface. Aaron Hotchner knew better than to flood her with emotions. He knew better than to flood anyone with them.
Her hand patted his knee in solace. She wouldn't coo as JJ, wouldn't talk as Dave, wouldn't hug as Garcia, stay at a loss of words as Reid or give a sentimental speech as Morgan. Those were their ways and she loved them for that, but for Hotch, no, those were not what he was looking for. And she knew that because most of time she felt the very same way.
"Life is a bitch" she pronounced, meaning each word with a careless shrug.
His darkened eyes bore into her and he nodded silently. While everyone who had ever crossed her life used a long compound of words to describe their desires, Hotch made everything clear with a single glance. Emily's eyes met his and she gasped.
"Hotch" she whispered right before their lips collapsed against each other.
He didn't ask for permission - her body gave herself without a single word anyway - and he found his release in her. Tears sprinkled his eyes and kissed her cheeks while he was fucking her senselessly. She came to him in a muffled scream and, shortly after, she dozed off alone by the couch with only her blouse covering her torso. That night, they didn't even bother to undress themselves at all.
It felt empty but it felt good.
She woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Thighs and back still sore from whatever happened the night before. Put aside the massive hangover. Prentiss looked around to feel her pants back on herself, a blanket enveloping her from waist to toes and a pillow right under her head.
Hotch sat across her, a faint smile of embarrassment on his face as he struggled to keep his impulses on a tight grip. It was a surprise when she faked her best and asked in worry if they spent the night together in more ways than one.
"You don't remember?"
"No" it was a simple answer for a simple question.
He didn't even flinch as he lied and assured her they spent the night discussing various subjects until both passed out. 'One more thing they were alike at', she pointed out to herself. Just like that, she accepted his excuse promptly and moved forward, wondering what he would have done if she'd ever told him the truth.
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