Now I remember why I love writing this work. Really, I guess this turned out to be more about personal gratification ahsahs. And still there are some new issues coming, bc oh well, life is not only happiness. There was a teaser during Dark Matter but now we are gonna have further problems with a certain ex-wife * sighs * I don't hate Haley, I just dislike her deeply lol I hope you enjoy it!

The last beta'd chapter is this one, so thanks Lisa for this! But I guess I'm going sans beta from now on. Ofc, if you know someone that wants to help, just let me know ;)

"MINIMAL LOSS"

Those months had been quiet, somewhere amid the battles the team fought every day, they found a way to fit in – together, alone. Their schedule was replaced with occasional sneaks to grab a bite during lunchtime, maybe a dinner whenever he decided to come up with a new recipe, even movies once when she practically dragged him out in order to prove to him how much of a loner he needn't to be. Not anymore, at least.

Their blonde liaison stomach slowly rounded, gave them an invigorating hope in life, in humanity, in love albeit that was something with further complications for both. His hearing was better, improving each second her mouth pressed so close to his ear, whispered her needs in the throes of passion or just chanted to that sleepy smile that eventually plastered on his handsome features.

Jack had now marks on the doorframe, small graffiti lines attesting time blowing them apart in its natural pace. It was her suggestion to create such thing, such tiny reminder to him that he was much more than just a job, that he had something greater to live for. But it was accidental, torturing, that very moment his bell rang and she called after him – once, twice, three times – during a lazy Saturday morning.

He was packing for the next week, getting his go-bag ready for another period. She was in the kitchen, long creamy legs bare to anyone's eyes, tousled hair cascading down her man's shirt clad shoulders as she attempted to fix herself a cup of coffee. Her eyes met his figure gathering his garments, eventually disappearing into his suite's bathroom before he finally caught a glimpse of her female image standing in the hallway.

"Haley is here" steady voice seared the space between them, still embarrassed for what had just happened in his living room "You didn't pick up"

And he was clueless, that so usual Hotchner frown deepening as though he had witnessed the greatest absurdity in quite a while. The father of one sprinted down the hall, took in her skimpily dressed figure before he disappeared to where his son remained silently asleep in his mother's secure arms.

Albeit he hated that look in her eyes, despised that agonizingly torturous judgment she was building within her about his not so upright actions, Aaron couldn't deny that maybe this felt just right enough – familiar enough – to him by now. Masculine arms closed around the sandy haired boy, cradled him with care until he was able to bid the blonde adieu.

"I should get going", Emily announced as soon as the older agent tucked the still 2 years-old in bed, her outfit sparkling some unexpected bit of lust in his self-controlled fibers.

"Stay", he offered sheepishly as his grip on her wrist pulled her flush against his chest, his large button-up contrasting with those dark jeans and that delicious scent of her crawling up his nostrils until it sank in his memory. It wasn't only her, it was them. And that thought both aroused and startled him at the same time.

Nevertheless, her – starving – lips lingered on his for few minutes before she was a mere ghost for him to dream of, it sure wasn't an outstanding surprise that instant that his boy wrapped his arms around his legs as he gleefully thanked his father for a gift found right inside his huge toy box. Green foil paper, a huge black ribbon with imprinted dinosaurs, a Lego set one week before the great day. Hotch smiled in amusement, shook his head to avoid the thoughts of Emily Prentiss as he crouched down to help Jack on the apparently too tricky task of building up her present to him.

A light knock on her door brought her back from those unyielding memories, engraved in her mind eternally even though she tried her best to compartmentalize. It was all for Spencer, all in order to keep him safe, keep him going after what happened with Tobias Hankel in the first place. He was improving every day, the help group affecting him for the best. And she would do anything in her power to still things in his goddamn life.

She could almost sense Cyrus' knuckles striking her skin, the back of his hand so violent against her cheekbones, his grip on her hair vicious as he led her to that random room. Where he ripped her of any humanity, caused to surface only the Agent on a mission seeking for somebody else's survival but hers.

His defeated posture, shoulders tense and slumped down and showing every emotion he possessed while the Unit Chief remained wordless at her front door, elicited a desperate pain within her, an undeniable weakness surfacing. Maybe she should have stepped aside to let him in, maybe she should have told him she needed a second to herself.

Yet, she was scared of being alone for now. She was exhausted, her ribcage plainly brushing against her flesh, making her sense every heave her chest performed, and it took her whole self-control not to crumble down on the cold floor – wait for his embrace to carry her through that rest of day.

It did, though. Careful arms closed around her body, held on for dear life albeit he shouldn't even be there. Thin lips murmured in the silky curtain of hair, soothed her back and those tears that never came finally were shed. Prentiss could taste the salty droplets tickling her fair skin. That specific chapter of her life, the ever so wordy brunette wasn't able to share anything but fingertips digging into his firm biceps.

Her dark orbs were fogged with another sensation, not a single drop rolling down her cheeks as her head was placed on his broad shoulder, her knees on the floor tangled with his own confusing position. They remained quiet, relished on each other more than they should. Guilty ate him up; pain ate her up.

"I-" he stopped mid-sentence, her mouth finding his to shut him up before it was too late for those words to leave his musings in the correct place and time.

Emily knew she shouldn't do this, shouldn't suggest something like that in this kind of situation because they have been there a few months ago and it was far away from the type of relationship they led in that very moment – it was about comfort, about using physical to get off on the emotional. Still, she pushed him down the floor, flung her tongue inside his heated caved in time for him not to protest.

He needn't to be objective that night, needn't to be himself either. Perhaps, Aaron should come back for those minutes, that bastard capable of driving her into oblivion with each harsh flex of his male hips. But it wasn't him anymore, and his gun-callused digits pulled her away, cupped the cheek without that dark bruise proving that life was not only about the two of them and those periods they lingered together. Dark glassy eyes reflected his own, their faces ever so close that it hurt not to reach out and simply complete what they were aching for, his sitting position whilst she vaguely placed herself on hands and knees adding both awkwardness to the situation and that small lasting arousal.

Hotch could feel her strangled breath against his face, mixing with his ragged one until the space between them was filled with the unspoken. Every sound he wished he hadn't heard through those earphones came back to him, her uncertain tone telling them that she could handle it however every and each of his nerve endings begged him to ignore the protocol, take her out of there in that very second, prove to Cyrus with his own fists what he really was – a son-of-a-bitch nonetheless.

"I do, too" she nodded slightly, tears beginning to form in the rim of her eyes as an startled gleam painted his features, caused his mouth to curve into a grin. Emily couldn't quite pinpoint whether he was grateful for her words or just contemplating something else she wasn't able to picture.

Once again, silence built up, escalated in faltering steps while he combed his fingers through her hair, claimed her lips one last time before the Unit Chief finally collected his courage to press a gentle kiss to her hand, to guide her feminine palm to cup his jaw and receive her thumb caressing his skin in return. He told her then and there, that he was indeed scared, that he was worried and lonely, but, most of all, the father of one spoke those very words with only his features as she trailed a warm salty droplet that refused to fall. 'I thought I'd lose you, I can't lose you, I can't.'

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