ACCIDENTS FOURTEEN

Emily had no clue how she got back to her room after dinner. She vaguely remembered snuggling against Hotch in the restaurant—she'd know his scent everywhere, even in her sleep. But after that, she had no clue how she ended up stretched across her bed in her sleep clothes.

But she was, and that gave her a bit of thought. Then a shadow moved by her bed and she squeaked in a very un-Emily like manner.

"Hey, it's just me." Hotch's voice came through the darkness and she relaxed. "Just wanted to make sure I remembered to lock your door earlier."

"Hmm. How did I get back here?" She sat up, pushing the dark hair out of her eyes. One thing about bangs, when they grew out a little they became annoying. He'd left the light on for her, and she could see him dressed in the same FBI t-shirt and sweats he'd worn that first night. He looked good, very un-BAU-Hotch like, and she wanted to get him out of those sweats. The need was close to all-consuming.

"You walked. But you were pretty out of it. Morgan got a kick out of watching you nearly walk into a wall."

"Remind me to get back at him later." Emily stretched, the movement deliberate and seductive. She didn't miss the way he moved closer, the way his fists clenched. No, she wasn't the only one feeling it. "What time is it?"

"Only about ten. You fell asleep a few hours ago." Hotch said; he dropped down on the bed beside her. "Completely out."

"Weird."

"Hormones. JJ was asleep at the table, too." He smiled. "The two of you have got Reid very on edge, you know."

"It's funny. How he's studied every aspect of human behavior but something as natural as pregnancy, and he freaks completely." Emily leaned in, eyes drifting shut as she rested her head on his shoulder. "You smell good."

"Not as good as you." She felt his hand trail up her spine, felt his fingers move under the fall of hair to grip her neck. He had strong hands. She wanted to feel those hands.

He must have read her mind—profilers were mind readers, and he was one of the best. His free hand moved up to wrap around her waist. He whispered her name, his voice low and rough. Then his lips were against hers and she was getting exactly what she had wanted earlier.

EMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCH

Hotch held her while they both caught their breath. Emily lay there for some moments just enjoying the feeling of his warmth against her side. "Sleep here tonight?"

"If you're comfortable with that."

"I am." And she was—she thought.

"You ready to talk?" His hand trailed down her side, now naked beneath his touch. The man definitely knew how to be effective in the bedroom. "Have you made any new decisions?"

"No." She sighed. "I mean, no, I've not come to any new decisions—but I am ready to talk."

"And?" She felt his body tense slightly and was hit by a small twinge of guilt for the boat she was about to rock.

"I never wanted to be one of those people, Hotch." Emily, for once, found herself tongue-tied.

"Excuse me?"

"One talked about, laughed about, titillated about."

"So you're worried about gossip?"

"Not gossip, repercussions." Emily admitted. "But that's not all. For the first time since coming to the BAU, I don't know how to act, what to do. Even at first, when it was very clear you—and Gideon—weren't exactly thrilled at my presence—"

"For which I was exceedingly wrong in thinking, by the way."

"Nice to know. But even then, I could easily form a plan of what to do, how to act, or not to act. And this—the baby, us, work—is something I never imagined happening. I feel like I'm repeating myself, I know we've talked about this before."

"But we've not resolved it." Hotch said; he turned to sit up. Emily followed, pulling the blanket tighter around her naked body. She wasn't entirely comfortable sitting naked with a man—even Hotch.

He apparently had no compunction of moving around in the nude. Made no move to cover his body. And it was a good body, Emily couldn't help but find it—distracting. That was part of her problem. Since that night in Salt Lake she'd barely been able to focus on anything but him. And look what that had gotten her. "No, we've not. And now we're going to bring a baby into this. What are people going to say? Work, our friends—my mother? How are we going to deal with the practicalities of it—I mean, this hasn't exactly been normal! Hell, Hotch, our very lives are anything but normal! This is insane, we're insane. I don't know if I can do this!"

She tried to suppress the bubble of panic building in her throat but she feared it was clearly written on her face.

"Hey!" He moved suddenly, grabbing her naked forearms and pulling her to face him more fully. "This is different, I know that. And it's bound to change things between us. But that doesn't mean it can't work between us. Where's this coming from?"

"I'm scared." She closed her eyes, lowered her head to his chest.

"Me, too, sweetheart."

"I can deal with being scared. I can." She told herself. Him, too.

"We can deal with it, together." Hotch said, the words low and soft against her forehead. "It won't be easy, but I'm willing to try. We'll get through the rest of it, just one step at a time. But I need to know what you want. Do you want this baby? Do you want to be with me? Do you want to just back off from this?"

"No."

"Emily, I need a little more clarification than that."

"No, I want the baby. I do. I can already see the baby. And I don't want to back off from this. Us." She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"But?"

"But where did this us come from?" Emily asked, suddenly, her fears becoming clearer. "Salt Lake City was just…was just. There. It happened, and I'm not sure why! Still not sure why. Because of New York? Because you were feeling guilty about Agent Joyner? Because it was a moment out of time? Because it had been a long time for both of us? Was it just hormones? I don't know, Hotch. And I hate that."

"So basically, you're confused about what's happened between the two of us?"

"I fully understand the mentality of just going forward and dealing with the hand we've been given. I've never done any differently. But what can we build on that? We weren't even friends, at least not close ones. We've worked together for nearly two years now and we know practically nothing about each other."

"We know each other."

"Not really. Discounting Salt Lake City and the hour we spent at a carnival—and the few times we've been alone in hotel rooms, where we seem to get inevitably distracted—have we ever even been alone in a non-case related fashion? Anything outside of the work environment—or the team—at all?" She flopped back onto the pillow and laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. She turned to look at him, when he moved to stretch out beside her. He stayed on top of the covers. But he was still naked. Still distracting—even when she was churned up with anxiety over their situation. Damn him. Damn hormones.

"Come to think of it, no. Seems like every time we are alone together, one thing happens."

"And that came out of left field. I wasn't expecting it. And a part of me wonders if Salt Lake City, and us having sex, is all a part of some big dream. And any minute now I am going to wake up and realize its not real." She told him.

"I know." He raised a hand and ran it down her arm, his fingers light and hot against her skin. "I'd be lying if I told you it didn't shock the hell out of me, too. But now, weeks after that night, I know it's a good thing. And it is."

"But why? Why did it happen at all? You and me—there was no hint, no clue, no behavior, to indicate that you and I were even possible, let alone probable." She tried one last protest. But she knew it was a weak one. "And we study human behavior for a living—and we can't even accurately evaluate our own. My own. Is it no wonder I'm confused? Plus, add in the baby, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I just absolutely do not know what to do. What I should do. What I want to do. What I can do. It just goes on and on. Repeating in my head."

"But that's not the root of it, is it?"

"No." She pulled the covers even tighter around her body in a defensive move.

"What is?"

"The question has been in the back of my mind…"

"Go on."

"Well." She paused, looked at him, almost afraid of what she was about to say. "If it hadn't been for the obvious repercussions of Salt Lake City, would we have had sex again? Or would we have just continued on the completely platonic route?"

"What are you asking?" His tone was slow, and she knew he knew what she was getting at.

"What I am saying is—if this baby didn't exist, would you be in this bed with me? Or was I just convenient, and now you feel like you really have no choice but to make the best of the situation?"

"Emily—"

"Would you, Hotch? If there was no baby, would you still want me?"