Author's Note: I could probably update this a little more often I just never think to look at it. I will make more of an effort.

This is a prompt chapter within a prompt story. My second entry for the "donut of shame."

Prompt Set #4

Show: SpongeBob Squarepants

Title Challenge: The Donut of Shame

A Brief Interlude

Emily stood in the middle of her room and grinned.

SO much better than the Econolodge!

She dumped her bags over on the floor, dropped her suit jacket on the bed and headed over to the bathroom.

Ooh, this was nice too! Maybe she'd have time for a bath later.

Knowing Hotch would be over in a couple minutes to collect her for dinner, she quickly tried to freshen up before she went and saw actual people.

Though, she wasn't very successful at brushing the snarls out of her hair. She'd had the window open all day and there were knots in one side.

After a couple minutes of painful primping she gave a disgusted grunt and dropped the brush on the counter. Screw it, at least she got the leaves out. She moved on to fixing her makeup.

Well, what was left of her makeup. She put it on like thirteen hours ago so basically the only thing still there was her mascara. And that had now left some very attractive raccoon smudges under her eyes. The lipstick was long gone and and her blush was down to one shiny streak under her left cheekbone.

Astounded, she stared at her complexion for a moment . . . God! Between her face and her hair she must have looked like crap for hours! Why didn't Hotch say something?

Then she snorted, yeah like Hotch was really going to tell one of his female agents to put on some lipstick. Those words were about as likely to come out of his mouth as 'nice ass sweet cheeks.' And just the thought of him saying that made her chuckle as she started reapplying her lipstick and fixing her face.

She was still amused as she went to answer the knock a couple minutes later.

Emily opened the door and Hotch blinked, she'd done something to her face. As she said hello he realized what it was that she'd done.

She'd put on makeup.

And the reason he suddenly realized that was the change was because she had a pink smear going across her front teeth.

Lipstick.

It's generally a tricky moment when you see that smear of pigmentation. Most women, you just ignore it. They aren't your responsibility. Somebody else will tell them or eventually they'll walk in front of a mirror. But if it's a friend/loved one you should say something. Emily, like all of his teammates, was by virtue of the amount of time they spent together, in the friend/loved one category.

Though if it was JJ or Garcia he was looking at right now he'd feel a little awkward pointing it out. But one of the lingering benefits of having the impromptu make out session with Emily in that public bathroom so many months ago was that those little awkward societal moments were no longer so awkward.

Once you've had your tongue down a woman's throat and her hand on your crotch, well, telling each other they need to pop a breath mint or that they just dribbled coffee down their shirt, isn't such a big deal.

For instance last week Emily turned to him and casually blurted out that his fly was unzipped. Which he very much appreciated, that is definitely something he needed to know.

Though, he really didn't need to know it as they stood in the center of an elevator packed with members of a ladies senior group that were touring the Academy that day.

And when he grumbled about her timing/volume of her voice as they were walking to the SUV, she said, "well I presumed that was a thing that you'd prefer to know sooner than later. But hey, your call on how long you want to expose yourself in public."

Then he had a brief moment of panic when he thought he actually had been quote unquote "exposing himself." And Emily rolled her eyes explaining that was dramatic license. To which he had countered she wouldn't much appreciate him telling her that "one of her breasts was hanging out" when really she only needed to fix her top button. So perhaps going forward she could dial down the use of "dramatic license" when it came to wardrobe malfunctions. She had snorted her agreement to his assessment about her breast, and after a moment's consideration then conceded that perhaps announcing in front of the Chippewa County Ladies Auxiliary Club, "sir your barn door's open," wasn't the most discrete approach to resolving that situation.

There you go. Apology accepted.

Frank conversations like that would not have been possible if not for those developments in the bathroom.

So as Emily came back across the room carrying her suit jacket and started to step into the hall, he patted her arm. And when she looked at him he ran his tongue across his teeth.

Emily winced, "crap," she ran her tongue over her own teeth and then looked back at him, "better."

His lips twitched, "um, no." He tipped his head back to her room, "I think you should go look in the mirror."

With a roll of her eyes, Emily turned and headed back towards the bathroom. Hotch stepped fully inside her room, shut the door behind him and went over to sit down on the bed.

She was going to be a minute.

He scrubbed his hands down his face . . . God he was tired. How long had they been up?

His brow wrinkled slightly . . . well, only fourteen hours but they'd actually been working/traveling that entire time. That's a long work day. And they still had at least five or six more hours before they could go to bed. Christ.

Leaning back slowly, he lay down on the mattress and closed his eyes. He'd read somewhere that if you just rested your eyes for a few minutes it could rejuvenate you.

He had no idea if that was complete crap or not but at the moment it sounded like the wisdom of the gods.

//////

Emily stared at her reflection the mirror.

Unfreakingbelievable.

Apparently there had been a little clump of lipstick in the smear on her front teeth. And when she had wiped it with her tongue, rather than disappearing . . . as it had the other thousand times she'd done it . . . it had actually ended up spreading it into the little grooves between her teeth.

She looked like the before picture on those gingivitis posters.

Rolling her eyes in disgust, Emily picked up her toothbrush and squirted on a bit of paste. A very little bit. She hated brushing her teeth right before she ate. It always ended up making things taste funny. But at least it wasn't breakfast.

Orange juice and mint toothpaste was a vomitous concoction.

Once her teeth were clean, again, she applied her lipstick, again. This time taking a moment to blot it on a tissue before she left the bathroom and ended up blotting it on her teeth again.

After she tossed the tissue in the trash she smiled one of those scary horselike grins in the mirror.

FINALLY!

She shook her head in disgust . . . God, what was she twelve? Can't even put on a freaking coat of lipstick without making a federal production out of it. She walked back into the bedroom and stopped short.

Hotch was asleep.

At least she thought he was asleep. She whispered his name to be sure.

"Hotch."

Nothing.

Okay, definitely asleep . . . she worked her mouth back and forth . . . what to do? They needed to get moving on this work tonight. But Hotch wasn't generally much for catnaps so clearly he was exhausted. After all, he had been driving for half the day. She was exhausted herself but she'd at least rested her eyes a little in the car. But her energy was more sapped because her head was killing her.

Stupid sinuses were getting stuffed up from being out in nature all day.

All right . . . she checked her watch . . . the dining room was open for another hour. No matter what else happened she already knew they were going to be up until after midnight reviewing the case files. So yeah, okay, maybe he should get a little nap in now. He'd be a bit fresher when they started looking at the reports. After all the whole point of this exercise was to find something that had already been missed. That was harder to do when you couldn't see straight.

With that thought she realized maybe she should rest her eyes too. After all what was she going to do, sit here and watch him sleep? Scintillating though that activity may be, a nap sounded a bit more appealing.

She quietly pulled off her boots and climbed up on the bed. He'd fallen asleep lying across the bottom so she just curled herself up at the top.

Just before she closed her eyes she remembered to set the alarm on her phone. She decided thirty minutes. They had sixty minutes until the kitchen closed and they could eat fast. And with that last thought she sighed and closed her eyes, trying to put the last images of Princess, Sebastian and Daisy out of her head.

/////

Hotch was awoken by a kick to the face.

He opened his eyes to find Emily's stocking foot pressed against his cheek. He snorted and rolled to the other side, pushing himself off the bed as he yawned.

How long had he been sleeping? He checked his watch . . . eh, maybe twenty minutes. That's not bad. And he actually did feel a little better than he did before.

Apparently there was something to that resting your eyes crap.

He reached down to tap Emily on the shoulder and then he noticed her cell phone lying next to her. The little alarm clock symbol was on the screen and he picked it up to see how much time was left.

Fifteen minutes.

Putting it down on the bed again he looked back at her curled up in a ball.

His expression softened . . . she always looked so vulnerable when she was sleeping. He got so used to her being such a hard ass at work that when they were on the plane and he'd look over to see she'd fallen asleep, he'd remember . . . she wasn't quite as invincible as she sometimes appeared to be.

Like right now she didn't look like the same woman he'd seen slam a drunk against a wall. Right now she looked little and fragile.

Seeing her goosebumps, he knitted his eyebrows together . . . and cold.

As he looked around the room he spotted a quilt folded up on the cedar chest next to the dresser. He crossed over and grabbed the quilt, shaking it out before he went back, spreading it over her, and tucking it up around her shoulders.

He figured he'd give her the extra fifteen minutes. Obviously he'd fallen asleep before she had so she deserved to at least get the same length of time for her nap.

Once she was covered up he went over and picked up her laptop. All of the evidence boxes were in his room but he could get started on an outline of the general facts of the case as they knew them now. If he got all the prep work done before dinner then hopefully things would go more smoothly later.

He kicked his shoes off and carefully sat back down on the bed, moving the pillows around so he could lean against the headboard. Given how much he had jostled the bed, before he began working, Hotch looked over to make sure Emily was still sleeping.

His eyes crinkled at the slight bit of drool running out of her mouth. From the plane he knew that she didn't usually sleep with her mouth open so she must be a little stuffed up. As he thought about it he remembered that this afternoon she'd been complaining about her allergies bothering her.

They were still at an earlier stage in spring up here and there was a lot of pollen in the air. He made a mental note to ask Lorelai if they had any allergy medicine. If not, then tomorrow morning he'd just make sure to stop at that market he saw next to the diner and she could get some there.

He stared at her for a moment longer, and then with a sigh he turned back to the computer and started a new document.

/////

Emily's lashes fluttered against her cheek as her eyes began to open. Her alarm had just woken her but as she reached for it the noise ceased. She rolled to the other side and saw Hotch looking down at her.

He was holding her phone in his hand.

"Hi."

She gave him a sleepy smile, "hi, when did you wake up?"

"When somebody's foot kicked me in the face," he responded drolly.

She snorted, "sorry," then she took note of the fact that she was now covered with a blanket that she didn't have before. Her eyes crinkled as she felt the quilted material . . . he always covered her up on the plane too. When he wasn't being a cranky bastard, Hotch was actually quite sweet.

Unfortunately cranky bastard was default mode.

Pushing the blanket back, she sat up and peered over at the laptop.

"What are you working on?"

He pursed his lips, "just some prep work on what we've learned so far," he hit save on his file before closing the cover and turning towards her, "I didn't really see the point of delving into the evidence yet, and you still had time on your alarm so I figured I'd let you sleep."

"Thanks," she stifled another yawn and then muttered, "crap, now I need to brush my teeth again."

His eyes crinkled, "just eat a tic tac. You've already put on your lipstick twice. I don't know if we have time for you to take a third swipe at it. The kitchen will be closed by the time we get downstairs."

She shot him a dirty look as she started to push herself up to go find her bag. Then she heard the unmistakable clatter of the little mints hitting the plastic box. She looked over her shoulder at Hotch shaking the container.

"I stole them."

Her lips twitched as he tossed the box over to her.

"Was there money left after you were done rifling through my purse?"

He rolled his eyes, "Prentiss you only have three bucks in your wallet. What was I going to buy with that? Another box of tic tacs?"

Indignant, her eyes widened as she looked over, "you actually went into my wallet!? Were you really going to clean me out?"

Simultaneously shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Hotch reached down to pull his shoes on. Then he turned his head back to shoot her a dry look, "uh no, I was not planning on committing petty larceny this evening. That was an educated guess. You rarely have more than three dollars in your wallet."

And really if he was going to swipe anyone's wallet it was going to be Rossi's!

She frowned, "that's because I use my debit card for everything," she rolled her eyes, "you're like the only person I know," she quirked her lip up, "besides my DAD," she tipped her head, "and Dave, who is my dad's age, that carries around three hundred dollars in small bills."

He scowled at her insinuation that he was old.

"I prefer cash. I take it out, I know how much is gone from my account and I deduct it from the register," he raised his eyebrow, "you on the other hand are always shoving those little slips in your pockets. And I know you lose half of them and then you have no idea how much money you've spent." He looked at her quizzically, "how do you balance your checkbook?"

"I don't. I just make sure there's no little minus sign in front of the checking account balance," her lip quirked up, "that's good enough for me."

Hotch rolled his eyes, "that's very responsible Prentiss."

She turned to put her boots on, "hey, I have no spouse, no dependents and no pets, if the entire system breaks down one of these days and I end up on the street I won't have to share my cardboard box with anyone," she stopped, trailing off, "wow, that sounds like a really depressing future."

Maybe she should get a fish or something. Eh, how would she afford fish flakes if she was living on the street? She could get a cat. No . . . she frowned . . . she was never home. The poor thing would be all by itself half the month. Man, maybe she really would be living in her box all by herself.

That sucked.

With a slight wrinkle in her brow, she stood up and turned around to face her boss.

Hotch could tell from the look on Emily's face that she actually was bothered by her own offhand observation. So he tried to cheer her up, "Prentiss I'm quite sure that once you reach the point of utter financial ruin you'll have somebody to share your box with."

Emily's lips twitched and then she snorted, "thanks sir."

"Anytime," he raised his eyebrow, "now are you ready for dinner?"

She gave him a look and he put his hand up, "sorry, scratch that, dumb question. You're always ready for dinner."

Her eyebrow shot up as she walked around the bed, "like you aren't looking forward to trying the food too. Lorelai said this Sookie person cooks as well as Luke," as she saw his mouth begin to open in protest she gave him a look, "and don't try to tell me that you didn't enjoy your lunch. You already agreed with me that the diner food was excellent."

Hotch tipped his head, "Luke's food was excellent. And I will allow a certain curiosity about the cuisine at the inn," he raised a sardonic eyebrow, "but my point was not about the food we are about to consume. My point was that you are always looking for additional food to consume. After all, I wasn't the one that ate three donuts and topped them off with a bag of chips out of the vending machine this afternoon."

"Hey," she scowled indignantly, "YOU bought me those chips!"

"That's because I wanted a DAMN donut! If I hadn't distracted you with the Lays then I never would have been able to get my hand in the bag!"

He winced. Crap. He definitely did not mean to say that out loud.

She furrowed her brow in confusion, "well, why didn't you just tell me you wanted a donut? I would have given you one," she frowned, "you didn't have to bribe me to share."

He'd bought her honey barbecue chips. They were her favorite kind. And here she'd thought he was being nice, turns out he just wanted a stupid donut.

Seeing that he'd clearly just hurt her feelings, he felt like a complete jerk. Why didn't he just keep his mouth shut? It was just a stupid donut. Nice Aaron. Taking a breath he tried to explain without making it worse.

"I didn't say anything because it was obvious that you really liked the donuts. And I thought if I gave you something of equal value then you wouldn't mind so much about losing the last one."

Her face softened, "oh."

So apparently he was being nice . . . her eyes dropped to the carpet as she frowned . . . he was being nice to her even though she was being selfish. She should have shared without him having to ask. The gift was for both of them, not just her.

Her eyes snapped back up to his. They stared at each other for a moment and then he tipped his head towards the door, "ready?"

She nodded slowly, "yeah."

Hotch opened the door, stepping back for her to exit before him. Then she stopped and gave him a little smile, "how about we stop at Luke's in the morning and I buy you another donut? You would have liked the cinnamon one."

He stared at her for a moment and then his eyes crinkled, "sounds good."

There were so many ridiculous disagreements that invariably came about when you spent fifteen, sixteen hours a day with another person in a high stress job. It was important to not let the little things fester.

That was Emily's apology for hogging the donuts.

Then his thoughts stuttered for a moment as he realized what he'd done. He'd let his own stupid issue fester and ended up inadvertently blurting out in a hotel room that he had only been nice to her because he wanted something in return. He felt a pang of guilt as he looked down at her.

And accident or not, that was a really crappy thing to do.

So he gave her a soft smile, "you get breakfast and my treat for dinner, okay?"

Her eyes crinkled as she patted his arm, "okay."

As they started down the hall she realized that this was how they had always made amends. Right from the beginning, they had always evened the scales by offering something tangible in return for forgiveness. It was never a traditional apology. She glanced over at him and he looked down and shot her a dimple.

Her lip quirked up, well traditional or not . . . she started down the stairs . . . it definitely worked for them.

A/N 2: It's really fortunate I already said this whole story is only going to take place over like three or four days because like Horses, this one's rolling along at a bit more of a minutial pace than I had planned. Though I do like exploring the nature of their relationship a bit more fully back in season three. I was stuck with the canon format of basically one chapter, covering one issue, for each episode. It was the only way to get through everything but it's nice to go back to that time now and see how they would have been interacting with one another on a daily basis given the events that had come before.

And I got the idea for the donut bit because I definitely wanted to write a lighter 'donut of shame' piece. It's just not right to make a SpongeBob prompt all halfass angsty.

If you have a moment please do hit the little button. Thanks :)