Author's Note: Next morning in their world.
Falling Into Place
Emily woke up the next morning with an unfamiliar sensation.
Another body pressed against hers.
But she immediately remembered whose body it was . . . Aaron . . . and she smiled as her hand moved up to squeeze the fingers she could feel loosely grasping her waist. A second later she heard his voice.
It sounded deliciously husky.
"Good morning," Aaron yawned into his shoulder before absentmindedly patting Emily's stomach. "Did you sleep well?"
Given that they were jammed together on the couch, he'd slept unbelievably well. Though it was a little strange, quote unquote, "sleeping with" another woman.
But not as much as he would have thought.
And that was yet another indication that things with Haley had petered out ages ago. Part of him felt a little guilty about moving on so quickly, but he didn't want to get bogged down in negative emotions.
It had been awhile since he'd been happy in a relationship, and he was looking forward to that experience again. And though this wasn't quite yet a 'relationship/relationship' . . . he was pretty sure it would become one very quickly.
After all, they were spending almost twenty-four hours a day together for an entire month. It had been about day three of his assignment when he'd become consciously "aware" of his attraction to her. So working out the math equivalency, by the time they moved back into their own homes, they'd likely know as much about one another as most people would after two months of 'regular' dating.
And two months was definitely a relationship.
Emily was quiet for a minute before she rolled her head back to look at Aaron.
"Yeah," she gave him a little smile, "I did. Thanks for getting up with me last night," she paused before she added softly, "and thanks for the other stuff too."
Really, he'd been amazing about everything. That could have been so awkward and he made everything okay.
He really was an incredibly good guy.
Aaron brushed her hair off her cheek as he responded quietly. "No thanks necessary," he gave her a knowing look, "for anything. And I told you, if you ever need to wake me up for something, don't feel guilty. For two more weeks it's my job to look after you. And then," his lip quirked up, "it will be my privilege to look after you. So either way," he winked, "you're good."
She brushed the tips of her fingers along the stubble of his cheek as she gave him a soft smile.
Apparently she'd built up some seriously good karma over the years if this who she was probably getting for her first real boyfriend.
That thought came to her . . . and then he kissed the back of her hand. She grinned.
Yep, major karmic frequent flyer miles here!
And as nice as it would be to stay snuggled on the couch with him, she desperately needed to pee. That's why she'd woken up after all.
Not to mention she really needed to brush her teeth too . . . she pushed herself back from him . . . after all, it would be nice if she didn't scare him off with her breath before she'd ever had a chance to kiss him!
Aaron watched with real regret as Emily suddenly pushed herself over and off the couch.
Wait! Where was she going?!
Though the question was immediately on the tip of his tongue, it wasn't until she was halfway across the living room before he called out.
"Um, you know, we don't have to be anywhere?"
Hopefully posing it as a question sounded less pathetic than, 'hey don't leave me!'
Christ, he realized with dismay, he really was down to begging her for five minutes of her time!
Emily stopping, her hair whipping around when she turned her head.
"I'm sorry," she pouted slightly while doing a little dance, "but I really have to go to the bathroom!"
She'd woken up at five to go, but she could hear his quiet even breaths coming from behind her. She just couldn't bear to wake him up again then.
Plus . . . aside from the slight pressure on her bladder . . . she was otherwise really, really comfortable with him all warm and cushiony pressed against her. So instead of getting up, she'd let her mind wander imagining their perfect night out in two weeks. That put her back to sleep with happy dreams.
Aaron's dimple slipped out at the dance.
"Oh, well," his eyes crinkled, "it is probably best if you got up then. I don't think this couch is waterproof."
Emily giggled before she turned to sprint up the staircase. Aaron looked after her for a moment before slowly shaking his head.
Definitely out of his league.
But . . . he pushed himself up and stretched . . . for some inexplicable reason, she really seemed to like him.
He huffed to himself as he walked down to the kitchen.
Perhaps her limited social exposure was working to his advantage here. Either way, the least he could do . . . he began filling the coffee maker with water . . . was make the girl breakfast. After all she'd made almost every other meal for him.
Around Emily, Aaron felt very much like Ward Cleaver. She was a homemaker.
A nester.
Not only had she baked the pie last night and made the cocoa. But back home, in addition to all the meals she'd made, she'd also baked two or three batches of cookies for him. And she was a really good cook!
If she kept up with the baked goods he was going to have to add another mile onto his run every day just to keep in shape.
She was also Johnny on the Spot filling his coffee cup as soon as it reached the halfway point.
He stopped his coffee prep for a second when a thought occurred to him. Then he burst out laughing.
It was the WAITRESSING! That was why she was always filling up his coffee cup!
He chuckled to himself.
All right, the next time she did it he was giving her a quarter tip. Maybe that would break her out of the habit of doing it at home.
Okay . . . he started measuring out the coffee . . . that explained the coffee thing at least. And perhaps the cookie and pie baking was in part a way to fill her boredom. But he knew that wasn't all of it.
Mostly he figured that was just Emily being Emily. And it had clearly been established that he liked Emily.
He liked her A LOT. But he just wasn't used to this sort of . . . attention.
Haley had been his only serious girlfriend and she wasn't very domestic by nature. And on top of that, she was also VERY liberated. She'd majored in political science and minored in women's studies.
At Vassar.
So yeah . . . he watched as the coffee began to trickle into the carafe . . . Haley was about as liberated as they got. She certainly wasn't much for cooking . . . he cooked or they ate out . . . or waiting on him.
Not that he would have expected her to do those things. But Emily was a different kind of girl in so many ways. And call him a sexist, but it was kind of nice to have somebody that wanted to look after him a little bit.
And he figured as long as he was looking after her too, then they were kind of even. He was just a little worried about after the assignment ended. Just that somehow he was going to get spoiled and fall into a mindset where it was 1957 and June Cleaver was going to be waiting for him in the kitchen every night with a kiss and a cold beverage.
Not that he wouldn't enjoy being greeted at the door with a kiss from a pretty girl. But he didn't want Emily to feel like she needed to do these things so he would like her.
He liked her just fine without all the little extra perks. And he just needed to make sure that she knew that.
His head popped up as the subject of his musings came back into the room. And again he realized that this span of two weeks was going to be a very long time.
Because his first instinct when she walked into the kitchen was to kiss her. But he couldn't do that for thirteen more days.
And that really sucked.
So instead he gave her a little smile as he crossed over and ran his hands down her arms, stopping to squeeze her fingers.
"Hey."
Emily smiled at him, "hey," she sniffed, "you already started the coffee," she patted his arm as she walked over to get the mugs off the hooks, "I would have done that."
Damn, she should have been quicker!
His eyes crinkled as he followed her over, reaching up to take the coffee mugs down before she could.
"Yeah, about that, you don't have to do that all the time you know."
Might as well bring it up now while the thought was fresh in his head.
Her brow wrinkled as she looked up at him in befuddlement, "make coffee?"
Huh.
He stopped, his eyes crinkling as he saw the crease in her brow . . . she was so cute. Then he tipped his head, "well, I just mean that you don't have to um," he paused for a second, knowing he'd had a tendency to stick his foot in his mouth that weekend and not wanting to do it again, "um do things. For me I mean. You don't have to do things for me."
There, that was nicely phrased. And therefore should be well received.
Or . . . he noticed her little pout . . . maybe not.
"But I like to do things for you," she frowned, "it makes me feel good."
That first week he was there she'd started to see that she was getting a little crush. The result was the first batch of chocolate chip cookies. And she could see that he enjoyed them so she started doing other stuff too.
But . . . she could see the slight look of panic on his face at her reaction . . . maybe she should explain why she liked to do these things.
So she leaned back against the counter and sighed as she looked up at him, "for the first part of my life we had so many strangers around us all the time, doing things for us, making dinner, washing the clothes, cleaning the house," she tipped her head, "usual stuff for wealthy families. But then after Johannesburg mother threw all of those people out. The security detail was necessary, nobody else was. So we had chores, all three of us, and mother's was cooking. Provided she wasn't traveling, she made dinner every night. And when she was away I cooked for daddy. Now granted, with my parents' schedules, sometimes we ate at nine or ten but that didn't matter. What mattered to her was that our time together was as a family. So she made cookies and birthday cakes and packed my lunch until I was sixteen. That's the year I told her I wanted to start eating at the cafeteria like my friends," Emily's eyes got watery as she looked at the butcher block counter, "I thought she was going to cry."
She looked back up at him, "in her mind doing those things was her way of showing me that she loved me, and I took that away," her eyes fell to the counter again as she swallowed, "so I guess part of what's happened in the family is my fault too," she lifted her gaze again, "I like you Aaron. I like doing these things," her eyes burned, "so please, let me do these things. Don't take them away from me like I did to my mother."
How would he know that she cared about him if she didn't get to take care of him?
This was how they did things in her family . . . she swallowed . . . or at least how they used to.
Aaron's expression had softened as she was talking. And when she was done he stepped closer, picking up her hand as he whispered, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize how important it was to you. I just didn't want you to feel obligated to . . . well, wait on me. It's not something I'm used to," he brushed her hair back behind her ear, "but now that I understand . . . maybe sometimes I can do things for you," he tipped his head down to catch her eyes, "you see what I mean?"
If this was how she'd been taught to express affection, it seemed all the more important that if they were going to become involved that she not do everything for him.
Otherwise their relationship would be unequal.
For a second she stared at him, considering his words, and then she nodded, "okay, I guess I know what you're saying. Daddy always made breakfast for us so," her eyes crinkled, "maybe you could pick a meal too."
At his smile, hers began to fade slightly and she reached up to touch his cheek, "but there's one other thing. And please don't take this the wrong way, but, well . . . um . . ."
Seeing his growing look of concern she finally just spit it out, "your coffee's terrible!"
Twice she'd come into the kitchen to make coffee only to discover that he already had. It was vile! She had to keep pouring it into his cup just so she could empty the pot and make a fresh one!
At her outburst his mouth started to quiver, and then his body began to shake as he tried to keep the laughter in. Finally he snorted a guffaw, "why didn't you say something before!?"
Of all the things he'd thought were going to come out of her mouth, that didn't even make the list.
She frowned and rubbed his arm, "well, I didn't want to hurt your feelings."
He smiled, "that's sweet but it's really okay," he huffed, "and if you would prefer then you can make the coffee."
Her eyes crinkled as she saw his amusement was genuine, "thank you. I was hoping you wouldn't be offended."
Thank God that was finally out in the open. She'd been trying to think of a delicate way to bring it up for over a week!
"No," he shook his head still chuckling, "I'm not offended," he tipped his head, "what's the problem with mine though? Is it too strong? Because that might be a couple years of drinking 0ctane rated black coffee in police stations. I guess I might be a little indifferent to it."
Her nose wrinkled, "yeah, it's really, really, REALLY strong," she looked over at the coffee maker, "how many scoops did you put in today?"
History indicated probably too many.
"Five," he answered cautiously.
Somehow he knew this was going to be a wrong answer.
Her head whipped back around, "and how many cups of water?" she asked worriedly.
"Um . . . five. And," he cleared his throat, "I'm judging by the look on your face that perhaps that was not the correct measurement."
She looked over sadly at the coffee maker, "no, um, that would be too much."
Crap. It was going to taste like tar.
Seeing how disappointed she was, Aaron immediately went over and unplugged the machine. Then he brought it to the sink where he dumped out the half full carafe before removing the steaming cup of grounds and putting them on a paper towel. Finally he tipped the machine so the remaining water would run into the sink. Then he dried everything off, plugged it back in, and turned back to her.
"Okay, tell me how to do it right."
She bit her lip . . . definitely picked a winner here.
"Okay," she cleared her throat as she joined him at the other counter, "you measure one to two. So like six cups of water to three scoops of coffee."
Then Aaron watched as she started measuring everything out again. But . . . his brow wrinkled and he put his hand up, "wait isn't that too much coffee?"
She'd thrown in almost a whole extra scoop.
"Well," she stated casually as she plugged the coffeemaker back in, "sometimes people like it a little stronger. So," her eyes crinkled as she turned back to him, "you should compromise and throw in an extra scoop. That way everyone's happy."
There was nothing wrong with him liking strong coffee. It was a personal preference, and she shouldn't force him to do things her way.
And it's not that she was opposed to strong coffee in principle, she just preferred for it to still be in liquid form.
He looked down at her, and even though there were still two weeks on the clock, he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. For a moment he just held her, and then he whispered against her hair, "you might be kind of new at this, but trust me, you're already an expert at this relationship stuff."
It had taken him years to learn the fine art of compromise.
Doing Thanksgiving dinner at her parents and having dessert at his. Alternating Fridays spent with his friends or hers. How often he should sleep over her apartment versus how often she should sleep over at his apartment.
For so long he and Haley fought over these things . . . really fought about them . . . because both of them felt that they were right and that the other person should just see things his or her way.
They'd almost broken up the first year about where to go for New Year's Eve.
When he was younger he hadn't understood that you needed to be flexible to make a relationship work. If you always give in, YOU became resentful. If you always insisted on things being done your way, then SHE becomes resentful.
Learning how to balance your wants and needs with your partner's is a huge thing, but here Emily is, walking in the door, and she already has that stuff figured out.
He rubbed his hand along her back as he huffed to himself . . . whatever were they going to fight about?
Emily smiled at his praise as she rested her cheek against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Then she closed her eyes.
This was the best. She wasn't sure how affectionate he would be with her before the two weeks were up, but so far they were doing very well.
A hug last night, a snuggle on the couch and now more hugging.
And though she'd of course heard good things about sex, there was nothing in her mind that was going to discount the merits of regular hugging with this man.
He was warm and strong . . . and he made her feel safe.
For so many years she'd lived in a constant state of anxiety. The higher the family profile, the more threats they got.
The past five years had been really bad.
Her mother was a constant target, especially now that she was the face of the American people to the Middle East.
The female face.
At least two additional serious attempts had been made on her life over the past two years. And more than once she'd implored Emily to allow them to pay for private security for her.
Just because the Bureau no longer considered her eligible for full time protection didn't mean that she didn't need it.
But Emily had gently declined over and over. As long as there weren't any specific threats directed at her personally, there was nothing to worry about.
That's what she told her mother anyway.
In reality she was nervous, the family was driven around in bomb resistant cars and lived in houses with bullet resistant glass. It was upsetting.
The reality of their life was genuinely, upsetting.
But most of her real anxiety was related to worries about her mother, not herself. At least until she saw that creepy picture. It had really freaked her out.
Not even just the threat, but the idea that somebody, somewhere in the world, had sat down with a picture of her . . . HER . . . and then slashed it to bits.
That was horrible because it was so personal.
That was her FACE!
It almost would have been easier to stomach if they'd just painted a bull's eye on her.
But with Aaron's arms around her, it was impossible to believe that there was any threat, any danger, any possibility, that she could be hurt.
She'd been watching agents for years and she knew who was really good, and who just okay. And even though she knew that Aaron hadn't been doing this for as long as most of her previous handlers, there was something about him.
He exuded a strength that made her believe that there wasn't anything that he couldn't handle.
She sighed against his chest . . . and the next time her mother offered to pay for a guard Emily could tell her without artifice that she had her own private security.
There was no longer any reason to worry.
Aaron felt the little sigh against his chest and he rubbed her back as he whispered, "what are you thinking?"
Never having been one to lie unless absolutely necessary, Emily answered him with the complete truth as she murmured back, "that you make me feel safe."
His eyes stung for a moment before he blinked and leaned down to kiss her head again, "good. Because I promise, nothing bad will happen to you while I'm around."
Moments like this were probably why the other agents tried to warn him about becoming emotionally attached. If something were to happen to her . . . which it absolutely would NOT, his brain automatically corrected . . . there's no way he'd be able to live with himself.
Not now, not with these feelings he had for her. And not with her so completely trusting of him. And not just with her life, but last night he'd seen it was her whole sense of self.
She was giving herself to him for safe keeping and that was an enormous responsibility.
He couldn't let her down.
And that was the moment she looked up at him and said, "do you think you could show me how to shoot today? I meant to ask you last night but with everything else that happened I forgot," her jaw twitched for a second, "I've had a bit of a phobia about handguns since the shooting and I thought maybe if you could educate me a little more, maybe I'd get more comfortable with them."
His brow creased for a second, and then he nodded, "yeah, we can do that," he stepped back to go over and pour their coffee, "I'd prefer to show you in more controlled environment but I suppose it's deserted enough up here that it shouldn't be a problem."
The concern obviously being that a stray round goes flying into somebody's window.
Or worse . . . somebody's head.
But there shouldn't . . . operative word being shouldn't . . . be anyone around for miles. So he figured he could set something up down by the lake. And besides . . . he added in the three sugars and two splashes of cream he'd seen her put in her coffee for the past two weeks . . . he liked the idea of her, not only trying to work on her traumas from that day, but also, just learning how to protect herself.
"Thanks," Emily gave him a little smile as he handed her a mug of coffee just the way she liked it. After she took a sip she added, "and I really appreciate you agreeing to take me out."
Aaron shook his head, "no, I think it's a good idea," he took a sip of Emily's version of strong coffee and nodded appreciatively . . . it was good. Then he raised his brow, "have you ever taken any self defense courses?"
If she hadn't, that was definitely something he was getting her set up for when they got home. When this assignment ended he wasn't going to be with her 24/7 any longer. And she didn't need to be the target of any particular terrorist or home grown whackjob to run into trouble. There were too many dangers for pretty girls out in the world.
His stomach knotted a little as he saw her shake her head . . . way too many dangers.
"No, nothing formally," Emily responded, "but some of the agents did teach me a few things over the years. I had one when I was young, an Agent Rossi," she chuckled as she thought back, "he was funny, I think you would have liked him. He went out of his way to teach me all the basics on how to shift my weight and where to kick and hit for maximum damage." Her cheeks got a little warm as she thought back, and then she began to giggle, "one time I pulled back, lost my balance and busted his nose."
As he leaned against the counter, Aaron's lip quirked up in amusement, "was he mad?"
"Nope," she smiled, "he just said the next time I gave a guy a bloody nose I was supposed to run away. NOT burst into tears and run get him a towel."
Aaron started to chuckle, "that is some solid advice there. I hope you took it to heart."
Yeah, she was probably right. It sounds like he would have liked this Agent Rossi. And knowing what a lonely life she'd led, Aaron was glad that somebody else had once taken her under his wing.
Her eyes crinkled, "yep, the next spring I was at the sixth grade formal and Jimmy Nelson tried to put his hand down my dress. I belted him, blood spurted all over his dad's tie and then I ran like hell. When I got home I wrote Agent Rossi a letter and told him what happened." Her lip quirked up, "a week letter I got a big envelope from him with a piece of bonded paper in it. It said, 'Emily Victoria Prentiss is hereby awarded this commendation for ass kicking under fire.' And then he put in a little note that he was proud of me," her eyes began to sting, "I hung them both up in my room." She looked back at Aaron hopefully, "do you think you could find out where he is now? He was always really good to me and I'd like to see how he's doing."
For the first few years after he'd transferred they'd kind of kept in touch. She sent him Christmas cards at the Bureau, he sent back a little note. But then one year she'd sent her card and she hadn't heard anything from him. At first she'd been a little hurt, but then she realized that he most likely got transferred.
It's not like they'd talked enough that she would have been in the loop on his career plans.
Aaron nodded, "sure, just remind me if I forget though," his eyes softened as he looked over at her, "how long was he with you?"
It was obvious that he'd come to mean a lot to her.
"Nine months," her eyes shifted over to his, "he was with us in Johannesburg."
His eyes widened in surprise, "wait, was he the one that threw you into the car?"
This was an expected twist. And it probably wasn't something that he would have asked her to talk about until they'd known each other better.
But as long as she'd brought it up he didn't see any reason not to ask.
"Uh, yeah, he was," she said in confusion, "but how did you . . .?"
That was weirdly, dead on, psychic.
Seeing the look of surprise on her face, Aaron sheepishly explained, "when I was in the office I saw the stack of newspapers and I'm sorry but I snooped a little. And when I saw that picture of your mother, last night was the first time I noticed you in the background," he moved over to sit down on one of the stools, "but can I ask? What did he say to you?"
He didn't even bother asking if she remembered. Though he'd fortunately never been in a scenario that bad . . . not yet anyway . . . he knew that it wasn't the kind of day that would just 'slip your mind.'
Her eyes started to get a little misty as she thought back, "that my mom was okay but," then a faint smile touched her lips, "that we were at Code Kermit and I had to be a good girl, but everything would be okay."
Of course the last part was a lie. But she didn't hold that one against him, Agent Kowalski had been his friend. And even at her young age she'd known that he'd been devastated by his death. If she'd see that he looked sad, she'd go get a cookie and a glass of milk. Then she'd return and hand them to him before she patted his hand.
As though cookies and milk would lessen his grief.
But cookies and milk always made her feel better when she was sad, so that's all she knew. And he would always conjure up a smile and thank her, so he seemed to appreciate her childish efforts at comforting him. And soon after that he'd started teaching her things. She realized later that he'd probably come to see that he wasn't going to be with her forever and he wanted her to be able to take care of herself.
God, she hadn't seen the man in over a decade and she suddenly missed him terribly.
Wrinkling his brow in confusion, Aaron asked, "code . . . Kermit?"
That definitely wasn't in the manual.
Emily blinked away the moisture in her eyes as she gave him a little smile.
"That was something he made up. I used to watch the Muppets all the time," she huffed, "it drove him nuts but he knew I would remember the term so that's what he nicknamed a critical incident," her voice deepened to her best Agent Rossi impersonation, "if I call a Code Kermit Emily Victoria then you need to hush your little yap and do as you're told no questions asked," she looked over at Aaron sheepishly, "I could be kind of a pain sometimes, complaining that I couldn't go out and play or I could never go to anybody's house for a sleepover. Agent Rossi was the only one that didn't seem to mind putting up with me."
She'd sometimes wondered if maybe he had a daughter her age, but there wasn't any wedding ring and he never talked about having a family.
Aaron smiled, "I'm sure you weren't that bad Emily."
He couldn't imagine her ever being a whiny little rich girl. Not someone like her. Someone who insisted on putting something in the cup of every homeless person they saw.
And that was even though Aaron knew that she worked to make her own ends meet.
She wasn't just kind to the less fortunate though, she'd also made him take her to the park twice so she could feed the squirrels. NOT the birds, the squirrels. She said the squirrels always got the shaft because they couldn't swoop in and snatch food like the birds did. So once a week she liked to bring them a bag of walnuts. And the last two Thursdays he had stood guard over her as she sat on a bench in Rock Creek Park looking for all the world like St. Francis with her little circle of forest animals around her.
It was really sweet. And definitely didn't scream bratty upbringing.
Her head tipped down slightly.
"Well, I wasn't a horror show, but I really wasn't as nice as I should have been. They were just doing their jobs and I wasn't always very cooperative."
Aaron walked over and squeezed her fingers.
"Emily, you were just a little kid. Your brain probably wasn't even chemically capable of processing that degree of complex empathy. Anyway though, I'm sure you weren't as bad as you think you were," he reached up to brush her hair back from her shoulder, "I just don't see it in you. And when I track down this Agent Rossi I'll ask him and I'm sure he'll say you were a delightful girl," his lip quirked up, "if a bit chatty."
She grinned.
"Come to think of it, he did once ask who yanked the string on my back and was there some way for him to snip it off."
"Ha!" Aaron barked a laugh, "I'm definitely going to track down this Rossi guy when we get home. Now though," he went back and picked up his coffee again before he looked back at her, "what do you want to do today?" he tipped his head, "besides shooting."
"Um," her jaw twitched back and forth for a second as she considered the question, "um, maybe we could go down to the lake."
His eyes crinkled as he pictured her in a bikini, then he nodded, "yeah, we can do that. But first, I'm decreeing that I shall make YOU breakfast today."
As her mouth twitched he crossed over to the refrigerator and ducked inside the door for a second. Then he turned back to her as he asked seriously, "do you want eggs and toast or toast and eggs?"
They had apparently forgotten to buy cereal or any sort of breakfast meat. It kind of limited their options.
Emily made a show of thinking for a second before she nodded.
"I think toast and eggs," then she waited until he nodded and went over to pop the bread into the toaster before she put her hand up, "NO wait, eggs and toast!"
He rolled his eyes, "damn it Emily," he huffed in mock anger, "I already started toast and eggs!" Then he grinned at her, and her lips twitched at the appearance of both dimples.
The girls at the coffee shop were going to be SO jealous!
And as she thought about it, it made sense that he wanted to occasionally do some things for her. She was just going to have to get used to that.
Especially the cooking thing, she really liked to cook for him. But this weekend was probably a good time to find out the extent of his culinary expertise anyway.
Things were really new, so maybe they could work out some routine that they could take with them into the next phase of things.
So she sat there silently for a minute watching as he took the milk and cheese out of the refrigerator. They joined the eggs already sitting on the counter.
A moment later her mouth started to twitch as she watched him dig a shell out of the bowl he'd just cracked the eggs into.
He shot her a sheepish grin before he turned back to start chopping off a section of the block of cheddar.
Well . . . her eyes crinkled as he bumped into the frying pan and it clattered to the floor . . . this was incredibly sweet of him. But if his omelets were on par with his coffee . . . and things weren't looking good so far . . . then she'd just tell him when they got home that her favorite breakfast food was actually Lucky Charms. Really, all he'd have to do was pour the milk and pour the cereal. She nodded firmly to herself as he rinsed off the pan.
Yeah, he wouldn't be able to screw that up.
A/N 2: I was planning on taking them further into the day, but then the idea of pulling Dave into the story came to me and I went off on a little side tangent with Emily's memories of him. And when all was said and done I'd already hit 6000 words so I figured it was a good stopping place.
I was not planning on including any of the team here. Not only is there no BAU, but they were all young and scattered all over the country. They were still in school and wouldn't have necessarily been in the DC area for another decade. But then I thought of Dave. And it's well established that I love me some Dave, so I decided as long as Emily and Aaron's lives had gone off on completely different paths then perhaps Dave's had as well. And the assassination attempt was early 80s, like '81, so nothing to say Dave hadn't also done a stint working VIP protection. He was coming from a Marine background (we'll say that's true here as well), so standing a post wouldn't have been a stretch for him. But I just liked the image of him and a little Emily being friends. Plus now, I can work him a cameo in this world a little later :) Maybe he's working at the BAU, maybe not. If Hotch hasn't heard of him then he can't have been the 'superstar' that he was portrayed as being in canon. So maybe he chose a different unit.
I definitely gave Haley a different feel here too. But I could never understand how in canon she and Hotch met in college (HARVARD College) and yet she didn't work! And it's not like she didn't work because they had Jack. They'd been married for like 14 yrs before they had a baby. There's certainly nothing wrong with being a homemaker, but it just seemed so strange that you'd get this prestigious education and then CHOOSE to do nothing with it. And they even made a little note about that when she popped up in the season opener and said "I'm working now" like acknowledging that hadn't been working before. So I just wanted to give her a bit more sense of self here.
Along the same lines (in reverse) I tweaked the Ambassador a bit. Things were portrayed as distant between Emily and her mom so I softened her mother up because I wanted them to have a warmer, loving relationship. I've said before, in so many ways, the relationship with your parents, their absence or presence, does mold you into the person that you become. Also, if you've never read my other stuff, I always tell you to imagine Emily's dad as Bruce Boxleitner :) That goes for here as well. He definitely has the grin to be a politician, and early 80s was PRIME hotness for "Scarecrow" :)
Chiroho has given me tons of good ideas on where to take this story. And one of them was a request to see a scene where Emily takes Aaron to her little coffee shop job. And I think that would be a cute scene so that note I put above about his dimples sets that up. And provided my poor addled brain is working, whenever I add something in that somebody else suggests to me, I do always give credit. And basically I think Chiroho is going to have to take like a ghost writing credit for "The Gingerbread House" (I think that will be the name of the larger story) because he's seriously set me up with like 25 different things to write! Good man ;)
I think you can see now that we are set up for a trip to the lake and a shirtless Hotch :) And a bikini clad Emily if that's your thing :)
As much as it pains me I'm going to force myself to take a little break from this to clean up the next Girl. I don't want to get too far behind. And I also owe Kavi like 25 Christmas prompts. Yes, hon, I know you're waiting patiently :) I'll get them to you tonight. And I mean that for real, not like when I lied to you on Sunday :)
So back on Saturday with another chapter here and hopefully that next Girl.
Lastly, this is just for Wildtreerenee, I just wanted to say thank you very much for your very sweet note :) And I had to do that here because I couldn't write back ;) But if you'd like to chat further, just send me another PM.
