"Look at you two."
Emily's head lifted. "Hey," she whispered, watching as her friend made his way into her living room. "What are you doing here?" It had been a week prior when Grace's grandparents had been in her home and Hennessey had blown up at her. Hotch had given her the week off to take time for herself and her new daughter but Emily refused, knowing that she could be the mother she wanted to be while being the agent she already was.
Hotch walked into the living room with his son sleeping on his shoulder.
"We seem to be almost the same person these days," the brunette woman chuckled, looking down to the baby whose head was beneath her hand.
The older man laughed. "How is she sleeping?"
Emily's hand ran over Grace's dark hair. "Pretty well," she nodded. "Her timing's switched a bit and she wakes me up at two and four instead of one and three, but she's been pretty routine." She didn't have to mention the fact that Grace had wailed for hours on end three nights in a row after Hennessey had had her fit in their home. After doing every trick Hotch had taught her to try and get the five month old to sleep, Emily had gotten a shirt of Matthew's she had kept from when they were teenagers and wrapped it around the baby, just like a safety blanket, and just like that the agent watched as Grace fell asleep.
Hotch's eyes moved from Emily's to her curly hair up in a bun and her sweats that drooped around her ankles.
"No judging," the new mother whispered with a tired smile.
The Unit Chief's head shook. "No judging," he agreed, looking down to his sweatshirt and jeans. "We're on the same page."
Smiling, Emily's free hand went to Grace's back and she sat herself up on the couch. "God," she sighed, hearing the show she and Grace had been watching as she looked out to and around her living room to see all the laundry she had done. "I still have to put all of this away."
Bending down, Hotch scooped the baby up with his free arm and had her head against his chest. "Where should I put these free loaders?"
Emily laughed, sitting up straight. "Her playpen is set up in the study."
When her boss left the room Emily got herself and stranding and stretched her arms high above her head. "Fuck," she groaned, the sound of the cracking of her back reaching her ears. The new mother looked to the clock and was immediately running into the kitchen to get some kind of lunch started for her and her guests.
"Do you always leave your underwear out for your guests to see?"
The ambassador's daughter blushed as she watched the older man pick up a small pile of laundry that had fallen on the floor. "Only the special ones," she winked, rolling up her sweatshirt's sleeves and chopping a few vegetables as the water on the stove boiled.
Hotch frowned, walking into the kitchen. "What are you doing?"
Emily felt her brow knit. "Making lunch."
"Stop." When the younger woman's eyes narrowed on him, he took the knife from her hand. "Come and relax."
Emily was quick to try and pull out of her friend's hold. "No stop," she tried to argue, holding back her laughter at the grin on Hotch's face. "I have to make lunch."
"You do not."
"I do too!" she laughed, her body finally leaving the kitchen so her boss could pull her along and into the living room. "Do you not want your child to eat?"
Hotch shook his head. "I want my friend to relax."
Emily did her best to stop from blushing as the older man pulled her close to his body. "I have chores," she stated obviously, her hand not in his gesturing to all of the laundry spread around her living room.
"Fine." The older man took the remote for the television and switched it to music.
Her hand immediately came to cover her mouth, not wanting the Unit Chief to see her laughter as he started to dance in her living room. "I've seen you dance before," she snorted, watching as the older man turned and snapped his fingers, "but not like that."
Hotch smiled over to his friend. "Dance with me."
Emily's head shook, her grin widening as her boss did his best to shake his hips.
"Come on, Princess."
The brunette's eyes widened, the comment shocking her enough that Hotch was able to take her hands and get her to move toward him.
"What?" he laughed, hearing the music get louder. "Morgan can call you that but I can't?"
Emily felt herself blushing, and she let her arms move with the older man's as he tugged her farther from the couch. "I have laundry I have to do," she tried to argue, smiling along with her friend as he got her to start to move her hips.
"But first we dance." The Unit Chief brought his friend to his chest before his feet moved back two steps, his arms outstretching.
The brunette woman let herself be twirled, her back resting against her friend's chest as he trapped her with his arms around her front. "I feel captured," she snorted, untangling herself only to be twirled again. Taking herself out of Hotch's hold, Emily quickly changed the station to a genre she knew she could dance to.
Hotch stopped, frowning as he watched his friend spin, twirling her arms above her head. "What is this?"
"Pop!" Emily could see the single father behind the dark hairs that fell from her bun. "Come on! You wanted to dance!" she laughed, shimmying his way.
"Not to this," he chuckled.
Shoulders slumping, the new mother gave her best glare to the older man as she held back her smile. "So what do you recommend?"
He stole the remote from the table once more and changed it to a different station.
Emily's grin widened as the familiar song came on. "How in the hell did you know this was going to be on?" she laughed out loud, letting Hotch immediately take her in his arms and spin her around. "Did you come in and hack my tv?"
"Everyone loves the Beatles White Album," Hotch grinned back.
The new mother hid her smiling face in her friend's neck as he slowly danced them around her living room, narrowly missing the piles of laundry she had done her best to categorically stack all along her floor.
Moving his head back, Hotch was able to look into the brunette's dark eyes. "If I trip over these clothes, you'll be bringing me soup in the hospital."
"I'll bring you all the soup the store has," she laughed, meeting his eyes as they both smiled.
A knock was quick to have Emily's head spinning toward the door. "Fuck," she cured, pulling herself from her boss and running toward the door when she saw that familiar face outside the window. "Social worker!" she hissed back at her friend.
Hotch was out of the living room faster than he had run after most criminals, off to get the kids from their nap.
"Jessica," Emily breathed, letting the blond into her home. "How are you?"
The social worker gave that practiced polite smile as she took in the agent's clothing. "I'm good, Emily."
Noticing the way the younger woman was looking at her, Emily shook her head. "I'm sorry," she laughed nervously, closing the door. "It's laundry day."
She followed the agent into the living room, eyes widening at the piles of clothes littering the room. "I can see that."
"Can I get you anything to drink?"
"I'm fine," Jessica smiled. "I saw Mr. Hotchner while I was waiting outside."
Emily hid her grimace, hearing her boss entering from the hallway. "Here he is now," she nodded, rushing over to take the now awake five month old in his hold. "Hey there," she whispered, kissing a sleepy Grace's head. "We have to behave for the nice lady, ok?"
Hotch made his way over to the guest and held out his hand. "Ms. Calt, am I correct?"
"You are," she smiled. "Nice to see you again. Another playdate?" She knew what she had witnessed from outside the front door, she was sure that was not usual playdates consisted of, but she would let the adults admit to it before she brought it up.
Emily walked over toward the couple before her couch and nodded. "Hotch came over to help with my house work and we thought the kids could play," she smiled. Handing the baby over to her friend, Emily led the social worker to a clear spot where she could sit.
"I'm sorry," Jessica frowned, "is something burning?"
The brunette was off to the kitchen, cursing under her breath as she threw the pot of water spilling out onto the burner into the sink.
The doorbell rang, and Hotch could feel the tension from his friend rooms away. "I'll get it," he smiled, politely excusing himself from the social worker and his son to get the door.
"Aaron."
Hotch felt Grace's head turn to the woman in the doorway, Emily's hurried footsteps coming to meet him. "Ambassador Prentiss."
Emily froze, her hand on her friend's back as she looked to the woman who she hadn't spoken to for over a year. "Mother." Her body immediately stiffened, hearing Grace start to whine and Jack asking the social worker in her living room a million questions. "Perfect."