A/N - Okay, a great deal of Jack in this chapter! I'm worried about this chapter seeming kind of filler-ish but I think it's necessary to the story over all. There will definitely be more Hotch/Prentiss action in the next chapter, this is just getting us to that point.
Please review! I really hope to hear what you all are thinking of this story/if you all are even reading!
And, as ever, I do not own Criminal Minds or anything pertaining to it.
"Em?" Emily looked down at her young charge, and resisted the urge to laugh. He had chocolate ice cream all over his face, and even a bit in his hair. The melting cone was dripping all down his arm and out the bottom, and he looked positively adorable. A huge mess, but adorable nonetheless.
"Hang on, bud," she said as she bent down and pulled a few napkins out of her bag. "Let's get some of this stuff off your face," she said, gently wiping the chocolate off his cheeks and mouth. She next tackled his arm, and threw the finished ice cream cone away as Jack waited patiently. "Much better, Jack. I thought you were a monster there for a second!" She teased him gently, causing the young boy to giggle. But then he remembered the question he had been meaning to ask before the clean-up.
"Em?" He said again, and Emily turned to him. "How come you and daddy didn't have your coffee time today? You always have coffee together and you always read me the comics," the boy explained. "But how come you didn't today?"
Emily should have known that Jack would notice the difference in the morning routine. He was his father's son, after all. He was constantly noticing things that the adult presumed would go over his head, and asking question after question. They ought to have learned better by now, but apparently not.
"Well, buddy, your dad and I both slept in, so we were running a little late. No time for coffee or comics this morning," she explained reasonably, not wanting to delve into the actual reason for the altered schedule.
"Oh," Jack seemed to accept this explanation, and the two walked hand in hand toward the exit of the zoo.
"Did you have fun today, Jack?" Emily asked her young companion, who grinned up at her with a dimpled smile, so reminiscent of his father. When the elder Hotchner actually smiled, that is.
"Yes!" he replied emphatically. "I wish daddy came though. He woulda loved seeing the lions," he said.
"Well you can tell him all about it when we get home, okay?"
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "What's for dinner?" Emily started. Another thing she hadn't thought of - the weekly dinners that followed leisurely Saturdays. This tradition had started when Hotch had confessed that he and Jack had been living off of Easy Mac and cereal for a few weeks, and Emily had taken control of the situation. She had taught him a few easy recipes one Saturday, staying for dinner, and since then they'd ended all their Saturdays making a new dish together for Hotch to learn. Last week it had been lasagna, which all three parties had devoured with equal fervor. Emily frowned as she debated how to answer Jack's question. She wasn't one for sugarcoating, but she really wasn't about to tell Jack that she was so angry at his father that she'd contemplated shooting him in the kneecap.
"Jack, I don't know if I can stay for dinner tonight," she said truthfully, and Jack looked up at her suspiciously.
"You always stay for dinner, Em."
"I know Jack, but - " Emily began, only to be cut off by the five year old.
"I'll be sad if you don't stay," he said with a pout, and Emily sighed. He was too cute, and he knew it. "Daddy will be sad too, Em."
"Daddy will be just fine," Emily replied with a huff.
"Nooo," Jack countered with a whine. "He always says that Saturdays are his favorite days because he gets to hang out with you and me and if you don't stay for dinner then he doesn't get to hang out with you and me!" Jack's five year old logic was sound, Emily had to admit, but at present she wasn't particularly concerned about making Hotch's day better. She was more concerned about the Say Yes to the Dress marathon on tonight, and the ice cream she had purchased (and devoured half of) the night before, stabbing the spoon into the tub with vigor as she recounted her confrontation with the boss.
"Well, Jack," she began cautiously. "Your dad and I had a little disagreement yesterday, and we both need some cool-off time. You know how sometimes when you and your friend Charlie are playing and sometimes you get a little bit mad at each other? And then you play by yourself for a little bit until you and Charlie aren't mad anymore? That's what your daddy and I need to do," she concluded, hoping the analogy made sense.
"Oh. How come you're mad at Daddy?" Emily groaned inwardly. Apparently she had forgotten that five year olds weren't satisfied with a simple explanation, but instead required answer upon answer until oblivion.
"Well you know how your daddy is the boss at work and gets to make the decisions when we're catching bad guys?" Jack nodded. "Yesterday he made a decision that I didn't like. He wanted me to stay at the police station and not come help catch the bad guy with him. I didn't think that was fair, so I got angry." She explained in the least complicated way she could think. She knew that the curious boy would continue asking until she gave him an answer, so she figured one closest to the truth was best.
"Sometimes daddy makes me do that too," Jack said sympathetically. "At the park, he makes me stay at the slide and I can't go to the swings without him. And when we're at the store, I have to stay in the cart even though I want to walk around. I don't like it," he added as Emily lifted him up and placed him in his carseat - they had talked their way to the parking lot and to her car.
"Buckle up, bud," she said as she closed his door and got into the car herself.
"It's because I have to be safe," Jack said, and Emily turned to look at him confused.
"What's that?"
"Daddy says I have to stay in the cart so I stay safe," he clarified. "Daddy says that his job is to make sure that I'm safe, and so I have to help him do his job by staying in the cart. Because he would get worried otherwise. And when daddy gets worried he's not very fun," Jack said, wrinkling his nose, and Emily had to laugh.
"That is definitely true, Jack," Emily agreed. "And your daddy is right - it is his job to make sure you're safe. But it's not his job to make sure I'm safe, because I'm all grown up."
"But daddy also says that I have to make sure our friends are safe. Like when Charlie ran over to the swings yesterday, I had to go tell his mommy because that's what friends do. Make sure their friends are safe and happy." Jack's simple logic was so sweet, Emily turned to smile at him.
"Your daddy is right, Jack. That's very good of you to want to keep your friends safe and happy," she said, feeling slightly hypocritical as the five year old basically unraveled her entire argument against Hotch. But it wasn't really the same, she reasoned with herself. Jack's friend Charlie was five years old, and shouldn't go to the swings alone. She however, was a - well, she was not a five year old, far from it, and this was her job. She had taken down Unsubs before, and she would again. She could take care of herself, and she had proven it many times. Besides, Hotch had no problems sending the rest of the team into the situation, so that whole "protect-your-friends" thing that Jack had so wisely espoused didn't really stand up. Certain of her conviction once more, Emily gave a sigh. It wasn't fun, this whole being mad at Hotch business. Her whole day had been thrown out of whack without his presence, and the thought of a dinner alone at her own apartment rather than in the company of her guys sounded less than appealing (and yes, she realized how pathetic this sounded, as neither were actually hers to claim. She did feel a sense of ownership, though, as her friendship with Hotch had grown and he had looked to her for support with Jack). But it was his fault, she reminded herself. He treated her unfairly, and poorly, both as a colleague and as a friend, and as cute as Jack's words were, she was still livid that not only had Hotch made such insulting decisions, but had actually defended them to her. Stupid asshole, she thought to herself. Men can never admit when they're wrong, why did I think Hotch would be different?
"Are we gettin' out or what?" Jack asked slyly, and Emily realized they'd been parked in front of Hotch's building for a minute or two.
"Sorry, buddy. Yep, let's go tell dad all about the lions," she said, getting out of the car and opening the door for her young charge.
"And you'll stay for dinner?" Jack asked as he hopped down.
"Jack," Emily sighed, but was cut off by a tugging at her hand.
"You'll stay for dinner," the boy said decidedly with a big grin, and Emily couldn't bear to say no, so she took a deep breath, steeled herself, and tried to figure out a way to get out of the situation.
"Thanks for takin' me to the zoo, Em. I love you," Jack said innocently, and though Emily's heart constricted, she couldn't resist rolling her eyes. She was putty in this kid's hands, and he certainly wasn't making her escape any easier.
