CHAPTER TWO
Six days later, Hotch found himself standing in front of Emily's doorstep, fist hovering just inches above the dark wooden door.
This is stupid Aaron, you should have just waited until tomorrow. It's not like it's an emergency or anything.
Lowering his fist, he was about to turn around when he mentally chided himself.
You're already here, it's not a big deal! Just knock on the damn door!
Rolling his eyes at himself at the internal conversation, he quickly pondered why it was that he was so indecisive around her. No one who had ever met him would ever label Aaron Hotchner as timid, in any way shape or form. So why was it always her that he was less harsh with, less sure of himself with?
Storing that thought away for later contemplation, he turned to face the door once more and knocked softly, loud enough so she would be able to hear, but not wanting to wake her if she had already fallen asleep.
On the other side of the door, Emily had just poured herself a glass of wine, listening to the soft sound of her stereo playing Norah Jones in the background. She had wanted to relax a little before crawling into bed, and had therefor decided to fix herself a steamy bath before bedtime. Hearing the soft knock on her door, she averted her attention away from her wine glass, head snapping up, curious as to whom could be knocking on her door just after eleven.
Always cautious, she slid her sig out of the drawer from her hallway table, and moved towards the door. Checking the peephole first, she her brow wrinkled in confusion when she saw her supervisor standing on the other side of her door.
It was not often that her home was open to guests, and she was the first to admit that visitors made her slightly uncomfortable. The only other time that Hotch and set foot in her apartment was during the Milwukee case, and both parties had been aware that his presence in her home had made her rather uncomfortable. Her home was her sanctuary, a calm place that was all hers, away from the horrors of her everyday job, along with the BAU—even those she cared about most, and she was very protective of it.
Tucking her gun into the waistband of her shorts, she switched the lock and threw open the door, meeting his gaze with a questioning one of her own.
"Can I come in?" He asked, with a questioningly amused tone to his voice in response to her obviously dumbfounded and cautious exterior.
"Oh right, I uh…Come in. Please." She said, clearing her throat after getting her surprise under control.
Opening the door wider, she stepping aside, letting him stride through her open doorway.
"Hotch?" She asked cautiously, knowing that having you supervisor show up at your doorstep when he should be sleeping was usually a sign that something was wrong. Although, he doesn't seem to be full of tension like he normally is, so maybe nothing is wrong at all.
Hearing the underlying note of concern in her voice, he suddenly realized what the implications of him showing up on a subordinate's doorstep at such a late hour could possibly mean. After all, it wasn't very often that your boss came to your house in the middle of the night unless he had an absolute purpose, usually one with not so cheerful ramifications.
"Oh no, Prentiss, everything is fine. Nothing's wrong." He quickly stated, not wanting to make her worry needlessly.
"Alright good," she stated, breathing a sigh of relief. "So why are you—OH SHIT!" She exclaimed, running off down the hallway before yanking open a doorway across the hall.
Momentarily dumbfounded, he stood still in her kitchen wondering why his agent had just bolted off in the middle of her sentence.
Taking a few steps, he started to follow her to see what had so obviously caught her attention. Coming up behind her, he heard her mutter a string of curses under her breath before she emerged from the doorway.
Walking out from behind her bathroom door, Emily found herself nearly crashing into the form of her supervisor.
"Oh geez, sorry!" she said, sidestepping out from where she was trapped between his body and the now closed door.
"What's wrong?" He asked, still confused by her earlier departure.
"Oh, nothing's wrong. It's fine," she said sheepishly, feeling a slight blush rise to her cheeks.
Seeing the unexpected sign of embarrassment, he wasn't about to let it go that easily. As they once again reached the kitchen, she turned around to see his eyebrow questioningly raised at her in curiosity.
Rolling her eyes, she replied, "I uh, just forgot about my bath when you knocked on the door. I had left the water running in the tub."
Feeling a smile tugging at his lips, he tried to hide his amusement at her embarrassment. Apparently he was more unsuccessful than he had thought, judging by her increasingly frazzled expression. Or maybe she was just getting better at differentiating my emotions, he thought. More so than any other member of the team.
"What?!" She exclaimed, noting his amused and curious expression.
"Nothing—I uh, just hadn't pegged you as the bubble bath type," he sated in a matter of fact manner.
"Who doesn't like a bubble bath?!" She stammered defensively. "I happen to quite enjoy relaxing in the tub with a glass of wine every once in awhile."
Chuckling at her anxious demeanor he thought, I don't think I've ever seen her this distraught. I must have really caught her by surprise.
"No need to get worked up Prentiss, I was just making an observation. Although I just always had you pegged as one to not waste time with any unnecessary additions."
Seeing the logic in his statement, and how she figured that's how everyone on the team saw her, she nodded. After all, that is how she had wanted them to see her. Straightforward, no-nonsense, independent Agent Prentiss. Agent first, woman second. It had worked for her entire life, and this time was no different. And seeing how she had never spent any time with him outside of work, she understood that he saw her no differently now. But strangely enough, she felt the sudden need to share. To explain to him that she wasn't always the coolly composed Agent everybody constantly saw her as at work. Shaking off the sudden directional change of thought, she stored away those thoughts for later analysis.
"Yes, well one has got to clean themselves somehow, don't they Sir?" she said slightly teasingly yet somewhat self-conscious, wanting to redirect the conversation to a less personal depth. "Plus, I find that a bath once in awhile is quite calming."
Nodding his affirmation, he finally pulled the cell phone our of his pants pocket, holding out for her to take.
"Well I just stopped by thinking you might be needing this."
"Oh! I hadn't even realized it was gone! Thank you."
"Well that's most likely because you have mine. I figured that we had probably switched on the plane ride home. I realized I had yours just before I left the office an hour ago.
Not missing his statement about staying at the office so late at night after a case when everyone else had bid their goodbyes as soon as possible after switching out their issued SUV's for their own cars for the drive home, Emily quickly wondered just how buried Hotch had gotten in his work life. Eh, who was she kidding? Work was his life.
"Right, I should probably give that back to you then," she said, turning to bound up the stairs towards where she had placed her—his phone on her nightstand.
Taking the moment of silence to look around, he once again noticed the tidiness and tastefulness of her flat. The color scheme was vibrant yet subtle, with color splashes of red strewn throughout the decoration. He took note of a room connected to her living room, intrigued with the lack of door, and lack of decoration from what he could see of the interior. Heading across the living space, he stepped through the doorway, whistling lowly at the sparse contents of the room, not missing the worn quality of the equipment. His eyes swept over the rather large space, taking in the hardwood floors, the stereo system built into the wall, exercise and yoga mats stacked neatly in the corner, the street bike leaning up against the wall, an exercise bar hanging just below the ceiling, a large punching bag dangling from the ceiling, and a—wait what? Was that a ballet bar attached to the opposite wall? Huh.
Trying his best not to profile the room, he turned on his heels and headed back out to where she had left him.
No wonder she's in such good shape. But I sure wasn't expecting to find a full on work out—and dance gym in her house! He thought, just as he heard the light thud of her footsteps on the stairs, signaling her return. She skipped lightly down the stairs, oblivious to the intense eyes of her supervisor watching her form, scrutinizing her movements. Admittedly or not, he was trying to figure her out, this new side to Emily that he had yet to fully discover, bubble bath and all. Within a few simple minutes of being in her home, he had learned more about the intensely private and illusive Emily Prentiss than he had learned in the past two years of working with her.
It made him want to know more.
Unaware that she was currently the center of his thoughts, she walked over to where he was standing, handing over the cell phone with a brilliant smile that made his chest leap into his throat. Confused as to his reaction—after all, he had obviously seen her smile like that before—he quirked his lip up in response with a quiet thanks as he made his way towards the front door. Resting her hand on the doorknob, she looked up as he nodded goodbye.
"See you on Monday Prentiss."
"Goodbye Hotch," she replied as she swiftly opened the door.
"GET DOWN!" Hotch yelled, tackling her to the floor with him, shielding her body with his own as the glass shards clattered around them.
Ooh cliff-hanger! I couldn't help myself :) Hope you enjoyed!