December 15, 2013

It's a fast-paced case.

Generally speaking, Hotch prefers them. It usually means better cops, better resources, and more importantly, less time away from home. It's generally how it works anyway. The downside is that he very rarely even gets five minutes to call home. Jack's used to it, he knows, and Jack gets pretty wrapped up in his kid stuff. Kid's got his intensity, people tell him. This time though, it's not just about Jack.

Originally, having Emily stay at his place had been a stroke of genius. It didn't make sense for her to stay at JJ's when she was taking care of his son. What he hadn't anticipated was falling asleep the previous night with the knowledge that while his bed smelled starchy and was intensely empty, she was at his apartment, in his bed – probably because she's practical and he doesn't think she'd voluntarily choose to sleep on the couch. He'd been up half the night wondering if his bed would smell like her when he finally got home.

"Got something?"

It's JJ stepping up beside him and he glances over at her. She shrugs.

"You've been staring at that picture of Alissa Davenport for twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes. He'd been out of it for twenty minutes because he certainly hadn't realized he'd been staring at their victim's picture. It's not like him, he knows. He knows that answering her in the negative will make her suspicious.

Rock, meet hard place.

JJ's eyebrow rises and he knows he's caught. He knows it.

"No," he says, and his voice comes out neutral. "Nothing."

It's the right answer because JJ blows her hair out of her face. "Story of the day. I just want to go home and cuddle my son."

Hotch offers her a tight smile. He can get behind that idea, definitely. Though he definitely wants to cuddle more than just his son. When he looks over to JJ there's a spark in her eye. Yeah, she knows. He knows she knows.

"When was the last time you called home?"

She means Jack, but she also means Emily. They both know that. "I haven't."

When he hasn't been working he's been passed out. They've been on the go the whole time and he hasn't taken time or made time to call. The faster they get this case solved, the faster he's home with them anyway.

"Take five minutes, Hotch," she tells him. He's worked with JJ long enough to understand what she says when she's not saying anything. And she's doing it now, her eyes watching him. They're warm, but careful, like she knows this is new and she doesn't want to overstep bounds.

And before he really knows it, he's reaching for the phone.

. . . . .

"Emily it's Daddy!"

Emily sighs, looking around the hell that is the Hotchner kitchen. Apparently somewhere along the line she'd forgotten just how messy baking with kids can be. The counter is covered in flour, both deliberately and accidentally, and the floor isn't much better off. There's sugar mixed in, both white and brown and she's pretty sure she's stepping on a chocolate chip every time she shifts to the left.

Quite obviously, they're baking. Jack had pulled a cartoon cookie out of his calendar this morning, looked up at her and she'd known. It's been chaos. After scouring the cupboards and finding the Hotchners woefully unprepared for a baking day, Emily had bundled Jack into the car and they'd hit the supermarket. It hadn't been a tough run, Jack's not that kid, and they'd packed it all in the car without incident. They haven't even had much trouble with the baking itself. A couple of internet recipes, an enthusiastic helper… They've got chocolate chip and some gingerbread men. She thinks maybe she'll see if Jack wants to take them to the BAU when the return.

"Baking, Daddy!"

Oh. He'd actually answered the phone. Huh. Well, she guesses, it's not that hard these days and he'd recognized the name. Or maybe the face, a rare moment of grinning relaxation. She remembers that face well.

"Uh huh. Chocolate and the gingerbread men. Emily says we can even build a house!"

Right. She'd said that hadn't she? They were going to build a gingerbread house. Maybe. If she can find a recipe for some good cement icing. The stuff they've been using on the gingerbread men will not suffice, she knows that.

She hears Jack's little giggle, then he's scampering back into the kitchen. His eyes widen comically when he catches sight of her and their mess.

"Emily!"

She laughs then, wiping her hands on a dishtowel and holding her hand out for the phone. He hands it over willingly and she's still laughing a little as she presses it to her ear. "Hey you."

"Hi," he says, sounding a little suspicious. "Everything okay there?"

"Fantastic," she promises. "Baking's getting a little out of hand."

"The flour?"

"Yeah."

"He's used to premade."

She gasps. Actually gasps.

"What?"

"Premade cookies? You guys make premade cookies?"

"Sometimes." He sounds wary, but she's already too indignant to hear it.

"You cannot make premade cookies. What is that? Where's the fun in that?"

"It keeps the floor clean. And the counters. And us."

"So? You don't get to squish your fingers in the dough, or watch it actually take shape. Or learn that you probably should eat the butter-sugar base mixture."

"Did he?"

"Yes," she says, smiling and ruffling Jack's hair when he makes a 'yucky' face at her. "And I don't think he'll do it again."

Jack shakes his head vehemently. That had not been a pleasant experience, even as they'd both laughed afterwards. She hears Hotch sigh and her smile dims a little. She presses her hand over the phone.

"Hey, Buddy let's take a break, yeah? Want the Grinch?"

Jack ponders this for a moment. "Frosty."

"You got it."

Actually, Jack can do it all himself, so Emily takes the opportunity to pop back into Hotch's bedroom. Privacy.

"Everything okay?"

He's still there, on the other end of the phone, and she thinks maybe he knew exactly what was going on.

"I don't want to be here," he says candidly.

Her heart clenches just a bit. "That bad?"

"No worse than things we've seen before."

They've probably seen worse, actually.

He sighs again. "You're only here for a couple more weeks."

That's true. Very true. She's been avoiding thinking about it, if she's honest. That's what the baking had been about. Avoiding the reality of being in DC, being in the States, and knowing that Hotch, despite the fact that they've agreed to try out a quasi-relationship, is miles away working. Perils of the job, she knows, but that doesn't mean she has to like it.

"How close are you guys?"

"He's escalating. Hopefully not much longer."

It's a strange combination of words but she understands what he's trying to say.

"Hopefully just a couple more days."

She hummed.

"I miss you," he says, voice low. She wonders where he is that he's so candid. It's still a shock, for sure, but she's getting more used to it now that a whole bunch of barriers no longer exist. "Are you sleeping in my bed?"

A fission of heat shoots through her. How can it not? "I am."

"Good."

One word and he says so very much. Her gut clenches.

Then he swears. "I have to go."

"Okay."

"Jack-"

"I'll hug him. Say you love him."

There's a pause, like he's absorbing that last moment.

"Soon, Emily."

She's really looking forward to it.

So, my holidays became crazy chaotic and I really didn't have time to write! That's why this has taken so long and why I totally missed my deadline. But I'm okay with that.

Now, before you all ask, yes I will complete this story.

I have it all planned out and I'm enjoying writing it when I get the spare moments. I'd been hoping to be up to the 20th by now but you know. Can't always get what you want. I do promise to complete this story though!

Thank you for your patience. It's the best Christmas present a girl could ask for.