December 21, 2013

Emily drops to the couch in Hotch's apartment with an exhausted sigh. It had been an extremely long day. A great day, yes, but exhausting.

She hears Hotch chuckle from above her and manages to pry open one eye to glare at him as best she can. He doesn't apologize but he does hand her a cup of tea.

"I forget how much energy Henry has," she murmurs.

"You didn't have to handle bath and story time," he reminds her as he settles beside her.

"I think I would have fallen asleep if I hadn't," she answers.

He just chuckles again and her head drops to his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her easily and her eye closes. His fingers slide through her hair as they bask in the silence for a moment.

"You're good with him," Hotch says after a few minutes.

She hums her acknowledgement. It's not the first time he's said that about her relationship with Jack. Hell, it's not the first time anyone's said that, but it feels different. Maybe it's the way he says it, maybe it's the fact that their relationship is different now, but her stomach flips in all the good ways.

"You're good with both of them."

This time she tips her head back for a kiss he's more than willing to give. She lets herself sink into the kiss, in part because she'd wanted it in the first place but also because he is a talented kisser. And they've kind of had to be on their best behaviour all day.

Well, and she's been sleeping beside him for a week with no, ahem, benefits, and kind of on a bubble schedule with her flight back to London booked for the end of the month. There's a desperation she can feel creepy up in her chest and she knows from the small grunt she hears he can feel it in her too. So she pulls back, long enough to set her tea on the coffee table, to take his mug and do the same before she climbs onto his lap.

"Emily-"

She kisses him, silences him, because she doesn't want to hear the arguments that are on the tip of his tongue. Especially not when her knee's sliding across his thighs so she can straddle him, so she can push her body more firmly against his. God, the feel of him, the heat of him against her is exquisite and she shifts to get more. They both groan and Hotch breaks the kiss, panting against her cheek.

"Emily, no," he says.

"No," she agrees, breathlessly. "No skin just- Just this."

And even though neither of them have managed to catch their breath, she dives in again and he responds, his fingers digging hard into her hips before he gives in and runs them up her back.

She's glad, grateful even, because she can feel all sorts of confessions bubbling up in her throat. She wants to tell him everything. She wants to tell him she wants to come back, tell him she doesn't want London if her family isn't there, if he isn't there. She wants to tell him about her full heart and the way her stomach does Olympic level gymnastics when he's in the room.

She kisses him instead.

Thing is, it must be a bit of a tell because the next time they break for air, he slides one hand into her hair and pulls her tight, tucking her head into his neck. She huffs a little, but doesn't argue because she is feel tired and off-kilter and she hopes that maybe, if he doesn't make her look at him, she'll manage to keep it all inside.

"Everything okay?" he rumbles after a few minutes of silence.

She nods. "Tired."

As long as he doesn't make her look.

The secret-keeping Gods are on her side today because instead of asking questions, he surprises her by sliding his hands under her thighs and lifting. She squeaks, she can't help it, because she's honestly impressed. Hotch isn't exactly young and she's no lightweight.

"Bed," he says and actually carries her the whole way to his bedroom.

It's incredibly domestic, getting ready for bed together, and this time she uses her toothbrush to keep her from saying anything too revealing, anything she'll regret later.

It isn't until they're curled in bed, Emily pressed against his back, that he squeezes the hand she has curled against his stomach.

"When you figure it out, you'll tell me?"

Emily blinks and knows that if she hadn't already been in love with him, this moment would have sent her tumbling head first over the cliff.

"Always," she replies, hoping to God her voice doesn't break. She's in luck because he just squeezes her fingers before lifting them to brush his lips across the tips.

"Good."

It takes a long time for Emily to catch up with her internal organs after that and he's definitely asleep when she presses her mouth very gently to his shoulder blade and whispers, "I love you. I'm coming home."

Another short one, I know. It's really strange to be here because I know where I want them to end up, but the problem is that I have four chapters to finish so I can't write the ending now! It's becoming problematic and that's really why it's taking me so bloody long between chapters. Which, you know, is relative because how long did it take to update, say, 'Memoir'? Yeah…

Anyway. I'm about to type up the next one and assuming I'm okay with it, I'll post it either Friday or Saturday, which allows for the possibility of me not liking it and having to re-write the whole thing. If I forget, which is possible, someone message me and politely (POLITELY, please, dear gracious) remind me I said such a thing.

Thanks for reading!