Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Thanks so much for the response, guys! My Christmas break is coming up and with the end of the semester that means PAPERS (*grrrrrs*)! I'll post as much as I can, but soon as I'm home for the holidays, I'll have much more time to work on this. Sorry about the delays in these!

Rarely did Aaron Hotchner find himself in a situation he found uncomfortable, but going to his ex-wife's house never ceased to make him tense.

I'll just get Noah and get out, he thought to himself. He didn't want to linger here any longer than he had to. Seeing Emily outside of the BAU always felt strange, even if they'd once been married.

Aaron exited his car to go up the walk to the porch and knock on Emily's door — the door he once called their door — and waited patiently for her or Noah to open it. After a mere few moments, the door opened to reveal Emily. He observed her as she stood tall in her dark jeans that hugged her hips and a casual V-neck. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to meet her eyes.

"Hello, Emily," he managed past the lump in his throat. Part of him felt excited to see her like this, casual and in their former home; the other part of him wanted nothing more than to retreat within himself where he wouldn't have to face her.

She simply nodded to him and stepped aside to allow him inside. Crossing the threshold, he caught a whiff of her sandalwood perfume — or maybe it was just lotion. Either way it didn't matter; the smell of her invaded him and refused to retreat. His eyes flicked around in the atrium for any sign of Noah so he could escape the house…and Emily.

"Did you manage to get some sleep last night?" she asked, breaking the tense silence. "Or did you stay late to do paperwork?"

"I managed to get back to my apartment around one," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I tossed and turned for a bit, but I fell asleep around three."

She bit her lip and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked just as awkward as he felt. "Oh," she mumbled. "Well…I guess that's good."

Both of them refused to meet the others eyes. Aaron remembered a time when this wasn't how it went at all, when they were able to talk with each other and stare into one another's eyes for hours on end. Now…nothing. All because they realized she was keeping too many secrets and he didn't show enough emotion to sustain a marriage.

They managed to maintain a professional relationship, one that would not disturb the dynamic of the team. He remembered when he first announced he and Emily would be seeking a divorce, and Garcia begged and pleaded with Emily to not leave the team.

We're a family! he'd heard her say when she thought she and Emily were alone. You can't leave me…you can't leave us!

How wrong Garcia had been. They weren't a family, at least he and Emily weren't anymore. They no longer shared the same home, the same bed, the same last name. All that remained of their marriage and life together was Noah.

That didn't mean he didn't want to look at her, though. Even if he'd dated other women since they'd divorced, Emily still triumphed over all of them as the most beautiful woman in the world to him. He found her just as sensual, just as enchanting as he did the day she first stumbled into his office with her box of overflowing desk supplies and files in her arms. No one else held the ability to cloud his senses with even just their scent, no one had the same way of gazing at him and being able to scrutinize every last detail of what he was feeling and why.

"So…" Her voice came out awkwardly, stilted. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, though. He couldn't find it in himself to look at her for fear he'd break his façade and look excited to be gazing at her. "What do you plan to do with Noah today?"

Rubbing the top of his head, Aaron shrugged. "Breakfast out, the park for a few hours, a movie with dinner at the apartment," he rambled. "Nothing over the top."

"Okay," she murmured. "What time do you plan on having him back tomorrow?"

Finally, he looked up at her and met her eyes. Both of them tensed up, but they held one another's gaze at least. Aaron coughed. "What time do you want him back?" he asked. "I've got nothing going on tomorrow, so I was thinking —"

"He's got homework, too," she reminded him, placing her hands on her hips.

He nodded, his neck stiff. "I realize that. I can help him with it in the morning or early afternoon and then get him back here before dinner."

Emily stared at him another moment, but eventually nodded her acquiescence. "Sounds good," she said. "I —"

Before she could finish though, the sound of footsteps thundering down the steps interrupted her.

"Dad!"

Aaron looked away from Emily and in the direction of his son's overjoyed voice as Noah leapt of the bottom stair. He smiled as Noah grinned brightly at him and threw his arms around his father's waist.

"Hey, buddy," he said, hugging Noah back and ruffling his hair. "How've you been?"

Noah shrugged. "Eh, I've been bored while you guys were gone," he said. "You guys need to not go away for so long next time. Elise is alright to hang out with, but not as cool as you guys are."

"We'll try not to," Aaron assured him, even though he knew he couldn't make that promise with the jobs he and Emily had. Nodding to the backpack on his son's back, he arched a brow. "Got all your homework in there? Your mom and I want you to get it done with me tomorrow morning before you come back home here."

Huffing, Noah nodded. "Yeah," he muttered. "I've got it all…even though I don't want to do it."

"Tough luck, champ," Emily said with a laugh. She opened her arms for Noah to go in and hug her. Gladly and without hesitation, he threw his arms around her waist and squeezed her tightly. Emily made an "Oof!" noise and grinned. "Alright mister, you have a good time with Dad, okay? Try to behave." She tweaked his nose and nudged him toward Aaron. When her eyes drifted up to Aaron's one last time, the smile faded, blinking away as if looking at him pained her physically. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Aaron swallowed hard and nodded. He needed to get out of this house as soon as possible "Yeah," he mumbled, placing a hand on Noah's shoulder to guide him out the door. "See you."

And without another word, he motioned for his son to go out the door. As soon as they were outdoors, and his son was babbling on, Aaron couldn't help but think of how grateful he was to have left the sandalwood palace that was Emily's home.

The home that once belonged to both of them and where they'd been a family.

XXXXX

"Dad?" Noah asked as Aaron they were tossing a baseball around. He caught the ball in his mitt and threw it back to his father. "I have a question."

Aaron arched a brow and caught the ball effortlessly. It was early afternoon, the sun shining down on the Hotchner boys as they played catch. They'd been running around all morning, and Noah was beginning to look exhausted from all his endless dashing. All afternoon had been pleasant, no thoughts of work or Emily invading Aaron's mind. He motioned for his son to sit with him on the scratchy wood of the bench.

"What's up, bud?" Aaron asked, placing his hand on his son's shoulder. Noah looked down at the mitt in his lap and sighed. When he didn't immediately respond, Aaron grew concerned. "You okay there? You got real quiet all of the sudden."

Noah bit his lip. "Why do you and Mom not smile at each other?" he asked. When Aaron didn't respond immediately, Noah elaborated. "I mean, I know you don't smile at most people, but you do sometimes. And Mom smiles at lots of people — Miss Penelope makes her smile all the time! — but you never look at each other and smile." He looked up at Aaron and eyed him expectantly.

Aaron sat silently for a moment. How could he accurately explain this to his six year old? "Well, buddy," he began. "Your mom and I used to be close, but…that changed. So we split apart." He smiled and ruffled Noah's lengthening hair. "So we smile at each other a little less because we aren't close anymore. But we both love you so much. No one matters more to me than you, and I know that goes for your mom, too."

"Real?" Noah asked with a hesitant smile.

Nodding, Aaron kissed his son's head. "Yup. Real." With a heavy heart, he sighed heavily and added, "You really need a haircut. You know that?"

Noah crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled, "Mom said the same thing."

Aaron knew he should have chuckled at that, but he couldn't. The idea that he and Emily thought the same exact thing made him feel deflated. He wanted to feel alive and happy again with her, but all he felt like right now was giving up.

XXXXX

Derek sat across the table from Savannah, his eyes trained downward on his food as his wife babbled on. He picked up his glass, his arms mechanical as he took a drink of water. His eyes drifted up to meet hers, and he forced his neck to move in a nod. Savannah's words filtered through one ear, but by the time they reached his brain, he had no concept of what she was saying.

Right now, though, he caught part of it: she was talking about redecorating their bedroom, and she was stuck on the subject of olive green paint.

His mind drifted away from the conversation, bobbing from topic to topic like a boat bouncing off waves. He wondered what Penelope was doing at that moment. After their drink, he'd remained at the bar for another hour, staring aimlessly into his drinks that came and went. Somehow, her presence had kept him grounded, and when he returned home, that grounded feeling abandoned him.

He'd woken up from one of his classic nightmares later that night. Afterwards, he proceeded to call Penelope.

He got nothing but her voicemail, then returned to bed to do nothing but toss and turn. The rest of the night he fought against the onslaught of his childhood memories that plagued him while his wife was at work.

Not that she would have been much help anyway; Savannah said she needed to give him space when he had his nightmares.

"What do you think of that?" Savannah's voice broke through his haze of thinking of the previous night.

Derek blinked several times after taking a bite of his chicken. "Green sounds great, honey," he said. He took a sip of his water. When Savannah pursed her lips at him, he arched a brow. "Something wrong with me agreeing with you?"

She sighed. "Derek, I didn't ask about paint colors," she said. "I asked what you thought about us going on a double date with Sam and Penelope tomorrow. There's some wedding stuff I wanted to talk to them about."

He could have smacked his forehead. This wasn't the first time she'd caught him not listening to her completely. But the idea she'd asked about was a great one to him. He wanted spend time with his best friend, even if it meant they were sitting through wedding preparations.

Looking directly at his wife again, he nodded. "Oh, sure!" he said, hoping his eagerness was as tapered down as he wanted it to be.

Savannah smiled. "Okay, awesome!" she said, shaking off the fact he was barely paying attention to her. "I'll call Penelope and set something up with her! Maybe we can try La Riviera. Penelope was telling me she was thinking about that for the rehearsal dinner!"

Derek smiled tightly and took a conservative sip of his water. "Sounds good," he said. Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he changed the subject to something he actually had interest in. He could care less about what Penelope's rehearsal dinner was like, even though he was her man of honor. He would do anything to keep her happy, but fancy French restaurants were not his area of expertise. "So I keep forgetting to ask you…have you talked to my mother at all about her coming to visit for our summer vacation?"

Almost as if he'd struck her with a scalding cattle prod, Savannah sat up straight and tensed. Crossing her arms over her chest, she met his eyes and gave a heavy sigh. "Derek," she murmured. "You know how my relationship with your mother is…"

Leaning forward, Derek rubbed his forehead tiredly. His wife's relationship with his mother absolutely exhausted him. They loathed each other more than the BAU once loathed Erin Strauss before the years leading up to her death when she began to support them.

Derek, you're my son and I love you more than anything in the world, Fran told him once. But that woman isn't right for you. Why couldn't you have married someone like Penelope? There's a woman who would be deserving of my boy!

For the umpteenth time during that conversation, Derek was forced to — rather awkwardly — reiterate that he and Penelope were just friends, and there was nothing romantic between them.

"Savannah…" he began wearily.

"What did you expect, Derek?" she interrupted. "Your mother hates me! I have no idea what I did to make her feel that way, but Jesus Christ, I can't get along with her to save my life."

He shook his head and used his napkin to wipe his mouth. "Savannah, you have to try, okay?" he muttered. "She's my mother. She's one of the most important people in my life. I want you to get along."

"There is no way I'll ever get along with her if she keeps acting like this!" Savannah growled. "You know, I think it's her fault you don't want to go through with the fertility treatments! It's like she doesn't want grandkids. Hell, she can't even be supportive of the fact we're even having the problems with fertility!"

Derek groaned internally. Not this argument again. For the whole year and half after they realized Savannah would need heavy fertility treatments if they wanted to have children, Savannah convinced herself that Fran was pleased over the fact she wasn't getting grandchildren.

"Baby, you know that's not true," Derek muttered. "How could you say that about her?"

Rising to her feet, Savannah dropped her napkin on her half empty plate and snarled, "Because she hates me, even though you've told her a million times we love each other and are happy." She paused as she picked up her plate. "You know, sometimes I feel like Penelope is more supportive than you and your mother are! Maybe I should ask her to talk some sense into you!"

Then she stormed off, leaving Derek alone at the kitchen table with his food getting cold in front of him.

Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes and took a moment to bask in the bittersweet silence. What the hell happened to his life that he felt more miserable than happy most of the time?

Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen lit up and he pressed Penelope's speed dial. He lifted the phone to his ear and listened to the droning ring. It rang several times and internally he knew she wouldn't answer. It was likely she and Sam were having a romantic dinner of some sort.

Sure enough, he got her cheerful voicemail.

Hey, you've got Garcie! Leave me a message after that annoying beep!

As he listened to her voice and the following beep, he debated whether or not he should leave a message. In the end, he decided not to trouble her with a stupid fight he'd had with his wife. He would be alright just listening to the simple words on her message. Heaving another sigh, he rose to his feet to take his dishes to the kitchen before plopping himself on the living room couch to watch whatever was on ESPN.

XXXXX

Somehow, his wife's hands caressing his stomach felt exhilarating, causing tingles to tickle all over his body. It had been awhile since Savannah's touch managed to arouse him. His eyes were closed and her arms were wrapped around him from behind so he couldn't see her face. Kisses began to dot the skin of his shoulder, gently moving up to his neck, then to his ear to nibble on it gently. A smile sparked on his face, and he opened his eyes so when he turned around he could see her.

However, when he turned over so he was facing her, it wasn't Savannah at all. He lay completely still, shock racing through him as he stared into the doe-like eyes of his best friend. A coy smile was playing upon her face, and she bit her bottom lip. Tracing her fingers up his chest, she cupped his face in both hands and kissed him, whispering sweet words in his ear between their mouths touching.

"Touch me, Hot Stuff," she purred, her voice vibrating through his whole body like a bass drum.

"Oh, hell yes!" he growled, pulling her tighter too him. She giggled and rolled on top of him, their naked bodies meshing together just perfectly. His blood was on fire, coursing through him like molten lava across black rock. But he didn't care. This was too pleasurable to halt.

"Penelope…" he groaned as her touch proceeded to make him harder, more —

Derek snapped abruptly awake, his breathing labored and his skin sweaty. He looked around wildly in the dark until his eyes came in contact with the clock. 2:18 am. Beside him was his wife, her own breathing quiet as her chest rose and fell. She remained sound asleep.

It was all the better; below the sheets he was hard as a rock, painfully so. Tossing the covers back, he stumbled to the bathroom in the dark. He couldn't have light on or Savannah would surely wake up.

He didn't want to explain to her he was hard because he'd been having a dream about having sex with Penelope.

As Derek stood in his bathroom, the door locked behind him, he stared at himself in the mirror and splashed cold water on his face. That had been the most erotic dream he'd ever had. Where the hell had it come from, though? Sure, he'd always found Penelope to be an incredibly gorgeous woman, but he was married. He should be having sex dreams about Savannah….

In fact, he should have been having sex with Savannah period.

Looking down at his rampant erection that was pressing against his boxers, Derek sighed and went to start the shower. He needed to take care of this fast.

But even as he stood beneath the cold stream of water, his eyes closed tightly as he pumped his hand up and down his member, nothing could banish the thought of Penelope's dusky rose mouth being against his.

Eventually he gave up fighting the battle against the memory of the dream; it was no use. And just like that, as he allowed the feeling of her body to wash over him, he began to come in thick, voluptuous spurts against the shower wall with his best friend as the only woman filling his mind.