Author's Note: We're opening with Emily a few hours after we closed with Hotch.

Emily Meets a Guy Named Aaron

Emily's eyes popped open the next morning to the distinctive sound of the garbage truck going by out front.

It took only a moment for the entire night to come flying back at her, and she winced as her eyes fell shut again. That's when she first consciously took note that her face was pressed against Hotch's chest and her bare legs were tangled up with his pajama clad ones.

Even though she remembered him climbing into bed with her after that horrible nightmare, for a moment she was still embarrassed. Thinking that she'd done this to him.

Imposed somehow.

That after she fell back to sleep maybe he'd tried to go back to his own bed, but she'd sucked onto him like a leach and he couldn't get away.

But then she took note of how he was wrapped around her . . . how he was holding her . . . and her expression softened when she realized that this wasn't her.

This was him.

Oh . . . she felt a wave of emotion rise up . . . he'd stayed with her! Stayed with her so she wouldn't wake up scared and alone again.

Her eyes began to sting, as her arms tightened around his chest.

She was starting to think that Haley had some sort of mental problem. Because if this sweet, wonderful, man who had been her constant companion since last night, was the Aaron behind the Hotch shell, then how the hell could his wife have ever left him? Yes, she knew that Hotch was cranky and dour and at times UTTERLY humorless. But that was him at work.

And their work sucked.

That was his way of dealing with it, cutting himself off, hardening up, and focusing only on the job. But off duty Hotch had always been much softer. And now she was finding out that beyond Off Duty Hotch, there was this other man. One who would ruin his good suit to put together a makeshift carrier for her cat, a man who would wrap her up in his arms and swear that he wouldn't leave her, a man who would hold her close while she slept, just to help keep her nightmares at bay.

That was a man that could fall in love with.

The thought came up out of nowhere, but it didn't surprise her as much as she thought it would. After all, some people believed in love at first sight. She wasn't personally one of them, but she hadn't just met Hotch. She'd known him for three years . . . well, sixteen actually if she counted the days when he was working for her mother. But by either count, the point was, it wasn't like her affection for him hadn't been deepening over the last few years.

And more specifically of course over the last few months.

So whatever these feelings were she was feeling now, they weren't out of the blue. They were simply the flowers blooming on the seeds that had already taken root. And though she'd still woken up with that same horrible lead weight of grief and fear pressing on her chest, she knew that it would have been much worse if she'd woken up alone.

Hotch's presence was making her grief tolerable.

So she decided to take advantage of the early hour . . . it was barely six . . . and snuggle closer. And after she'd looked up to make sure that he was still sleeping . . . yes . . . Emily fixed the blankets around her shoulders and moved up to nuzzle his neck and breathe him in. Then she pressed a quick kiss to his throat before she closed her eyes again and let out a soft sigh.

Being with him now was probably the closest she would come all day to finding a little peace. And if he was okay with wrapping his body around her to make her feel safe, then she wasn't going to be shy about taking advantage of this physical development in their relationship.

After all, of the two of them, he was clearly the one with the bigger "personal space" issues.

Although, given that she'd woken up with them curled together like a pretzel . . . something that she was sure Hotch had precipitated . . . Emily figured that the personal space issue was perhaps no longer an issue between him.

Actually . . . another truck rumbled by out front and she felt him begin to stir . . . once he was awake, that was when she'd know for sure if this was okay. If last night was just an anomaly, or if he was really ready for this to be normal behavior for them. She felt her bare legs rubbing against the flannel of his pants.

God, would she love for this to be normal behavior.

But if he froze or stiffened up, then she'd know for sure that in the light of day, this kind of interaction made him uncomfortable. And though she would understand if that was his reaction . . . even with everything that had happened, this was a lot of change for them so quickly . . . she still prayed that he wouldn't let go.

So with a breath in her throat, she waited for him to disentangle from their embrace.

But he didn't.

Instead he rubbed his hand slowly along her back before he asked softly, "how are you feeling today?"

Though he couldn't see her face, Hotch could tell from Emily's breathing that she was already awake. Awake and still wrapped up in his arms.

That was good.

That meant that she hadn't panicked about what he'd done. If she'd been uncomfortable or embarrassed she would have pulled away immediately when she'd woken up. But she hadn't.

And that knowledge made those little cold spots in his heart kindle again.

Hotch's voice was so deliciously husky that Emily felt a little surge of desire zip through her body. It wasn't lust really, but it was something that intensified her attraction for him. But she ignored it . . . even now it still was too soon for that, cuddling was one step, sex was still another one entirely . . . as she murmured against his throat.

"A little better."

Feeling his hand still on her back, Emily pushed herself up slightly to look at him. There was a pinch of worry on his brow as his left hand fell down to her waist.

"Are you sure?" He rubbed her side, "because I know that you didn't sleep well."

Though he knew of the two of them that he was the one with the greater issues with sharing, Hotch really hoped that she wasn't going to start closing herself off from him now. If she tried to deny that those nightmares hadn't been haunting her all night, well, that was going to be a real problem for their open communication agreement.

Not to mention extremely unhealthy for her mental state.

Realizing that attempting to lie to Hotch now probably wouldn't go over well . . . after all he probably knew better than she how poorly she'd slept last night . . . Emily bit her lip as she looked up at him.

"That's true," she said hesitantly, "I didn't sleep well. But I did get some rest, and rest is what I needed."

The knit in Hotch's brow relaxed slightly and she knew that she'd made the right choice in being honest. Because even though she only remembered actually waking up once, she knew that wasn't the only bad dream that she'd had. Lipsky had broken into her home over and over again, and each time she'd tried to fight him off.

Each time she had failed.

Except . . . a glimmer suddenly flashed in her mind . . . for the last dream. In the last one Hotch was there.

And Hotch had saved her.

A sad smile touched her lips as she whispered, "thank you for getting up with me. And for, well," she rubbed her hand across his chest, "for this . . . for staying when you could have left. I think it really did help having you stay with me."

Seeing that her expression of gratitude brought a flicker of embarrassment to Hotch's expression, Emily moved away from the meaning behind his actions and on to the actions themselves. So she tipped her head slightly to the side as she asked flat out, and with a sliver of concern, "are you sure that you're really okay with me being in your space like this? It's not too much too fast?"

Just because he seemed so accepting of her presence didn't mean that it wasn't making him a little bit uncomfortable. Because for a lot people, there were different standards for nighttime and daytime behavior. And it would be better to just get clarification now on these new boundaries before she got used to them. Because the last thing she wanted was for him to feel weird about her snuggling up with him, but not feeling like he could say something because it would make things awkward.

Pushing aside his discomfort at her praise . . . he didn't deserve thanks for what he'd done, if anything he deserved condemnation for not attempting to bridge this distance between them before . . . Hotch's expression immediately softened as he reached up to brush his fingers along Emily's cheek.

"No, it's not too much too fast," he whispered while gently caressing her skin, "and yes, I'm very okay with you being in my space like this."

This was exactly the kind of thing that he'd been thinking about last night. That more than his words, his actions would set the course for the direction of their relationship. And although yesterday morning he couldn't have imagined waking up in bed like this Emily . . . last night things really had changed so much for him.

Her being threatened and so personally violated by what Lipsky had done, it had brought out his protective instincts, crystallizing his feelings for her.

But for her to understand this shift, that it was real, it meant he had to be a man who wasn't afraid to be open with his affection for her. And since he'd decided to take that step last night and pull her into his arms in the living room, he'd discovered that being physically demonstrative with her wasn't as difficult a transition as he would have thought. Really he just had to tap into Married Hotch.

Better known as Aaron.

Aaron wasn't an FBI agent. He didn't track serial rapists and multiple murderers. Aaron had been a husband. He'd had friends . . . and lovers.

That was the man that he needed to become again . . . but a better version of him. Not the one that Haley had divorced, but the Aaron that she had married.

That was the man he wanted to be for Emily.

Feeling the warmth of Hotch's fingertips stroking her cheek, Emily closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, his fingers stilled, and seeing the look on his face . . . the tenderness there . . . she impulsively leaned up to kiss him just as she had the night before.

This time though, when she went to pull away . . . he put his hand on the back of her neck. The kiss went on with him gently holding her in place. It wasn't a passionate kiss.

But was a real one.

And when they broke apart a short while later, her eyes began to sting as she looked up at him.

She wanted to ask him what they were doing, if he also thought that something genuine was building between them.

If that development was something that would make him happy.

And as much as the little insecure part of her brain wanted to get these answers to her questions, wanted some reassurances about what was happening so that she could face this awful day with one small bit of peace in her heart, Emily realized that forcing a discussion now would be wrong.

Sometimes it was better to just let things be.

So instead of pushing into things that could wait, when she saw the intensity of Hotch's gaze as he looked at her, she just gave him a shy smile. And when his expression softened, and his lip quirked up ever so slightly, she dropped down and curled up in his arms again.

And when she felt him press his lips to the top of her head, Emily knew that she'd made the right choice in letting it go.

Right now, with nothing to look forward to today but immersing herself in the mind of this . . . her eyes began to burn . . . this terrible, twisted man who was stalking her and had killed her friend, this was more than she could have hoped to get to start the day.

A kiss and a cuddle.

Those weren't the weapons that Hotch usually sent her off to battle with, but she'd definitely take them.

Hotch ran his hand soothingly along Emily's back . . . he was grateful that she'd bit back the questions he could see in her eyes. Though he was trying to show her that he was ready for more, what he wasn't ready for yet, was a big talk.

He didn't know what he would say.

Really, he was afraid that he'd stick his foot in his mouth. That somehow he'd imply he'd only been doing what he was doing because he felt sorry for her situation and just wanted her to feel better. And then she'd get embarrassed . . . possibly angry . . . and he'd fuck everything up.

But after she'd initiated that second kiss, he'd remembered his promise to keep them even. So that's why he'd held onto her, that's why he'd kissed her back. To show her that what she was feeling . . . he was feeling it too. And whatever was happening, it was clear to him that it was on both sides.

Regardless of what kind of trauma she'd suffered, Hotch didn't see Emily being so physically affectionate with him unless she had actual feelings for him too.

So if this shift in their physical interactions could help move their relationship forward, and provide some additional comfort to her, then he just wanted her to know . . . he was all for it.

And as he heard the weary sigh escape her lips, Hotch tucked her head under his chin before pulling her body even more tightly against his because this was going to be a shit day. And as much as he wished that he could shield her from what was coming, he knew that she was going to insist on being there for all of it. Of course he wouldn't think of cutting her out of the loop . . . this was her life . . . but he just didn't know if she was ready for all of the crap that was on his to do list.

Another conversation with Durant, another conversation with Kelly's chief . . . that was going to be awful . . . and then an intrusive, piece by piece reconstruction of Emily's life over the past few months to see if they could compile any more evidence to connect Lipsky to the break-in and murder.

No, there was no doubt that it was him, but there was no such thing as too much evidence. Things got tossed out, defense attorneys twisted theories and circumstances for their client's gain. Somebody somewhere down the line was sure to pose the theory that Emily had led Lipsky on, that they'd been involved, that she'd given him a key and that the photographs taken in her bedroom had been taken with her permission.

That even if they allowed that Lipsky had killed Kelly, that it was simply a crime of passion . . . manslaughter. Not a vicious premeditated act from a deeply disturbed mind.

As much as it pissed Hotch off to even have to entertain such bullshit, he knew it was coming. So the more they could find in Emily's recent past to show the pattern in Lipsky's obsessive behavior, the better it would be for both Emily personally and the case in general. Pouring through her personal life though, that was going to be unpleasant. Hence the reason for his promise to share with her as much as she was going to have to share with him.

God only knew what secrets he'd have spilled to her by the time this was all said and done.

Beyond that though, as far as immediate problems went, they also had to tell the team what happened and then find a way to keep them from tossing their careers aside in an effort to help Emily. It was enough that he'd be risking his own future at the Bureau, he had to keep them out of the case or Strauss would have their heads.

Strauss.

Shit . . . he winced . . . they had to tell Strauss. Of course he knew that, but apparently he'd been blocking that one from his brain. Really, he should have called her last night. Kelly Hsu wasn't one of her reports, but there's no way that her murder wasn't going to "come up" at today's senior staff meeting. Not only her murder, but also its connection to Supervisory Special Agent Emily Victoria Prentiss.

Somebody who was most DEFINITELY was one of Strauss' reports.

Again . . . his jaw twitched . . . he really should have called her last night.

If memory served though, the senior staff meeting didn't start until ten, and as he looked at the clock he saw it was only a little after six. But he definitely needed to make a phone call before she got blindsided and looked like an idiot in front of the Director.

Yeah, that would be bad.

And after running down the rest of his to do list in his head, all Hotch could think of for mundane activities that day was the grocery shopping. Maybe he'd drag JJ and Derek along for backup. Then he rolled his eyes . . . back up for grocery shopping.

What a fucking life.

His eyes shifted over to the alarm clock again as he debated whether they should just get up and start dealing with all of this crap, or if they should try to get a little more sleep. And then he heard Emily murmur sadly, "I have to call Kelly's parents. I have to tell them what happened."

"No," he gently rubbed her back, "you don't. Durant would have taken care of that last night. And I'm sure SSA Willis has been in touch with them too."

Next of kin notification was most definitely NOT on his to do list. And it was not something he wished to add to it now.

"Yeah, but," Emily wiped away the tear leaking down her cheek, "she was my friend. And I KNOW them. I used to go sailing with Kelly and her dad. I owe them a phone call. God, her poor father," suddenly her voice broke, "he adored her!"

Shit . . . she started frantically wiping her face . . . she did not want to start crying again before she was even out of bed!

Feeling the warm tears now running onto his neck, Hotch felt the return of that ache in his gut. So in an effort to comfort Emily, and push that ache away, he rolled over onto his back and pulled Emily onto his chest before he fixed the blankets up around them again.

In her new position, Emily was now even more aware of how little she was wearing. But she couldn't really make herself care about such things at the moment. Instead she just rested her head on Hotch's shoulder as she sniffled and tried to stop crying.

Hotch ran his fingers through Emily's hair as he listened to her try to bottle up her grief again. Though he could tell from her level of agitation that she was angry that she'd started crying, he actually thought it was better that she got some of it out now. They had a long day and no doubt something was going to trigger thoughts of Kelly that would cause her grief to spill over.

Better that happened with them here alone, than with her in the middle of the bullpen.

Finally she appeared to have that thought as well, as she seemed to give herself over to her grief. That's when the quiet sobbing of the night before came back again. And as they lay there, with Emily's steady tears leaking onto his t-shirt, Hotch ran his fingers through her hair. His jaw began to twitch as he stared up at the ceiling. He was starting to make a mental list of the dozens of ways he knew of to kill a man . . . and wondering which one would make Lipsky scream the most. It was unlikely that he'd get the opportunity to try any of them out, but it was enough to bolster his focus for the day.

And when he felt Emily press a kiss to his throat, he knew that their day was about to begin.

"You ready to get up?" He asked softly.

"Yeah," she cleared her throat, "yeah I am." Then she whispered, "I want him dead, Hotch."

If anyone would help her with such a task, she knew it was the man lying beneath her.

"I know," he turned his head to kiss her forehead as he agreed softly, "me too. But don't you worry about that right now."

Given the suffering Lipsky had put Emily through so far, Hotch was no longer inclined to let the police handle this on their own. But he also knew that if attempted his own investigation, that his attention would be divided between chasing Lipsky and protecting Emily.

That seemed a dangerous distraction.

So he reluctantly pushed aside thoughts of vengeance for now. He'd give them a chance to do their jobs, but they had a clock ticking. If Lipsky was still in the wind a week from now, Hotch was reassessing his approach.

Because he knew that Lipsky would be coming for Emily again.

If not for the potential of additional trauma for her, Hotch would almost welcome the attempt. Because he was serious last night when he'd said that Lipsky was going out with a bullet in the forehead if he came anywhere near her. But that would assume he was close enough to see her. And if he was close enough to see her, then the cops hadn't done their job.

At that thought, Hotch shifted his eyes down to look at Emily.

"Would you mind if I slept with you again tonight?"

It was unlikely the nightmares would leave her in only a day. And if they were a foregone conclusion, and it had already been established that his presence at least calmed her, then he'd rather just stay with her. But most importantly, he didn't want her to have to ask him to stay. It would make her feel weak, one more blow to her self confidence that had already taken too many hits in the past twelve hours.

This way, it was a favor she was granting to him.

Emily's eyes began to burn as she looked up at Hotch, and again she wondered if you could fall in love in one night. Then she gave him a watery smile.

"Yes, if you'd like to, you can sleep with me again."

His eyes crinkled slightly. "Thanks." Then he patted her back, "now are we getting up? Or do you want to try to get some more sleep?" His gaze shifted to the alarm. "Because even budgeting for two showers and you doing whatever you have to do, we still don't technically have to get up for another forty minutes."

Despite the day . . . and her still watery eyes . . . Emily again couldn't stop the twitch of her lips at Hotch's words. God only knew what he thought she was going to need to do in the bathroom.

So she huffed slightly as she slipped her other arm up and around his neck.

"If you let me shower first," she murmured against his skin, "I can get out of your way. Then I can dry my hair in here and go back in to put my makeup on after you're done."

Her needs were pretty basic, but she was about six years past the point where she could leave the house without any makeup on at all.

"Okay," he agreed, "that should work."

Haley had never worked, so the two of them had never been on the same shower schedule in the morning. Emily's suggestion seemed logical though. It was obvious that her apartment was not going to be a place she'd feel comfortable sleeping in for quite some time. So if this arrangement of them living together was going to last more than a few days, it would be nice if they could figure out a routine that worked for them early on. Because aside from the dorms in college, he'd only ever lived with his family when he was growing up, and then later, Haley and Jack. So just getting used to sharing a bathroom with somebody he didn't have carte blanche to barge in on when they were in the shower, was going to be an adjustment by itself.

Emily's gaze shifted over to the clock again as she saw the last two numbers flips from eighteen to nineteen. And remembering that she had to answer Hotch's question about whether she was ready to start the day, she made her decision.

Her fingers curled around his neck as she whispered, "let's split the difference and get up in twenty minutes."

Once she left this little cocoon Hotch had her wrapped up in, life was going to suck hard. Twenty minutes wasn't enough time to get any sleep, but it was at least enough time to solidify these feelings of warmth and comfort she had at the moment.

Hotch nodded as he murmured back. "Okay, twenty more minutes." Then he pressed his lips to her ear, "do you want to talk about anything?"

Knowing her aversion to another breakdown, he doubted it. But still, he wanted her to know that he was there if she wanted to discuss Kelly or Lipsky or anything else.

"No," she shook her head slightly, "no, I just want to forget about my life for a little while." Then she rubbed her hand along his chest, "would you tell me about Jack?"

She'd met his son a couple times and thought he was an incredibly sweet little boy. But she didn't really know much about him.

Hotch's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Uh, sure. What do you want to know?"

That was not what he was expecting her to say.

Emily's gaze shifted to look at the happy yellow sponge on the sheets.

"Is SpongeBob his favorite cartoon?"

Hearing her question, Hotch's lips twitched. "No, his favorite is actually Batman, but Haley thinks it's too dark for him so he can only watch it at my house. He really does like SpongeBob though," his lip quirked up, "Patrick's his favorite."

Then, realizing that Emily might not know who Patrick was, Hotch clarified.

"He's a large pink starfish, not very bright. And," his brow wrinkled as he thought back, "he apparently is independently wealthy because he's the only creature in Bikini Bottom that doesn't appear to be gainfully employed."

Okay . . . his face started to get warm . . . that was perhaps the most ridiculous sentence he'd ever uttered to another adult. But then he heard Emily giggle and his embarrassment faded.

This was helping her.

Emily kissed his jaw, "thank you for that excellent visual," then she cuddled in closer as she closed her eyes, "tell me something else."

Feeling Emily's fingers rubbing the tension from his neck, Hotch sighed, "um, what else? He likes fire trucks and bulldozers and he wants a puppy, but Haley's allergic and I'm not home enough for a dog so I'm not quite sure what to do about that."

Just as he started to think that maybe he'd said too much . . . these obviously weren't things he was used to discussing with anyone . . . he heard Emily whisper.

"Does he like cats?"

Hotch answered slowly, "uh yeah, yeah, he does like cats, but Haley's allergic to them too."

Emily's lip quirked up slightly before she said quietly, "good." Then she realized what she'd said and clarified, "I mean not good that she's allergic, just that it's nice Jack likes cats."

At the moment Emily was pretty sure she knew what it felt like to walk out on a lake with a big sign next to it labeled, "THIN ICE." But she just couldn't help herself. Though she didn't want to flat out ask Hotch what the hell was happening, as soon as he started talking about his son, and hearing the happiness in his voice, she couldn't stop wondering about the future.

If she'd ever be a part of his son's life.

Which was why, given that she had a traumatized cat hiding under the bed, Emily was curious if Jack's affection for animals extended to felines as well as canines. And it made her happy to know that it did. Though she didn't want Hotch to know that the question held any true significance, so she quickly moved back to his prior statement.

"So it sounds like puppies and kittens are out for now," she bit her lip, "what about a hamster? I've never personally had one, but they don't seem too messy and I've never heard about anyone being allergic."

"Uh," Hotch stumbled a bit with Emily jumping around, but then he got back on point, "no, that's out too. Haley doesn't like rodents."

Though Hotch wasn't 100% sure hamsters were technically rodentia, they had been categorized as such by his ex-wife.

Emily pouted, "oh, well that's too bad. And aside from a bunny rabbit, that's about it for domesticated mammals you can keep as house pets," she patted Hotch's chest as she finished sympathetically, "it does sound like you do have a little problem there."

It wasn't until she'd said it, that Emily realized that for just a minute she'd actually forgotten about Lipsky. She'd wrapped herself up in a little boy's problems . . . finding a way for his daddy to buy him a puppy . . . and put all of her own out of her head.

The respite was nice while it had lasted but as the crushing awareness of her own shit world came roaring back to her, she literally winced in pain.

Apparently there were other ways for the bubble to burst.

"Hotch," she whispered.

"Yeah." He came back softly.

And her voice cracked, "I think it's time to get up now."

Hotch's gaze shifted down to see Emily's eyes were glassy with unshed tears. And her brow was once again pinched with the strain of the day.

His own brow furrowed in worry and disappointment.

He didn't want her starting her day already broken and defeated. That was going to make everything so much harder for her.

It only took him a second to think of something to do to reset the course.

So while keeping Emily tucked close to his chest, he rolled over again. And when he saw her looking up at him in surprise, he leaned down to press his lips to hers once more.

This time going well beyond the intensity of the prior kiss.

And a few minutes later, when he heard Emily moan against his mouth as she arched up against him, he knew that he'd successfully driven the demons away for a few more minutes.

Only then did he pull back to see her blinking at him in astonishment.

"Wow," she panted.

The man SERIOUSLY knew how to kiss!

Hotch gave her a soft smile then right before he pressed his lips to her ear. And he whispered.

"Now it's time to get up."

A/N 2: As I said in the last one, I saw no reason for them to be creating artificial obstacles here, that them attached at the hip onscreen season 4 was the beginning of what we're seeing here. And I could have had Hotch pull back a bit in the light of day but I think it was clear in the last one that his decisions were resolute. He wants to have a life again. And as long as he's not forced to have a Deep Thoughts discussion about what they're doing or where things are going, then he's doing okay kicking the little rock down the street.

Daisy will be returning in the next chapter :) I was trying to recall how my cat behaves when I've been away and usually he's happy to see me initially (meows up a storm actually) and then he kind of goes off and hides and then the next day he's a little leach attached to my lap. So after everything that happened, I didn't see lap cat Daisy coming back again right away. Especially given that she was driven out of the bedroom from Emily's nightmares …which would have scared her off again. Thank all!