xix. Sunlight
He shows up at her apartment door with ibuprofen and soup from her favorite Thai restaurant. She answers the door in shorts and a tank top, incredibly underdressed to his suit.
"Just wanted to check up on you," he clears his throat.
She thanks him, ushers him to her kitchen, and suddenly has no idea what to do. He clearly doesn't either. She notices his effort to focus on her eyes instead of the rest of her beaten body.
"I'm fine, Hotch," she soothes.
"You were tortured, Emily." It's the use of her first name that makes her heartbeat quicken.
"Everything's mostly healed. Look."
She knows exactly what she's doing when she lifts her shirt to expose the white bandage covering her left ribs. She takes the bandage off and the wound still looks bad a week later. Her shorts ride low enough that her tattoo is visible.
He steps closer to her and reaches for her hip. That's his first mistake because the electricity from so many years ago is still there, still pulsing. He had forgotten how soft her skin is.
She feels it too when she intertwines their fingers on her hip and readjusts the bandage to cover the wound. Her body is on fire and her breathing isn't quite right.
"Tell me to leave," he whispers, right there, right in her space.
How's she supposed to tell him to leave when he's everything she needs in this moment?
He swallows thickly and removes his hand when he mistakes her dumbstruck silence for malaise.
"No," she breathes and places his hand back on her hip, mindful of her injuries, and skims her hand down his chest. He pulls her against his body.
"This isn't because I've been worried about you," he murmurs into her hair. "This is because I want you. I've wanted you since the moment I first saw you."
"I know," she gasps and it's harder to breathe but that's irrelevant because he's in her arms again.
"Do you want this, Emily? This isn't St. Lucia. There are consequences. I'm your superior," he pulls back to stare intensely into her eyes. "I don't just want a month-long fling. I want to give this relationship an honest try. If you want something else, tell me to leave right now."
She steps out of his embrace and his face falls so much that it breaks her heart. She reaches for his hand and guides him to the couch.
"We aren't sleeping together tonight," she explains. "You and I have too much to discuss. Too much history, too much unexplained past. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right."
His smile is one of relief and unconstrained happiness.
"I need to tell you about Interpol. Everything," she starts.
They don't stop until the sun is peaking over the horizon.