Finally, after a couple of weeks of heated glances, of needing to hold himself back from touching her every time she comes within a few feet of him, he gives in to himself and asks her to have dinner with him. Her eyes search him, reading him, and he brushes her hair back from her face and leans in to kiss her, the first time since her apartment after Colorado. He meant it to be soft, gentle, but she arches into him and he backs her up against his car, his hand firm on her hip and her hands gripping the back of his neck. He pulls back, their eyes locked and their breathing quick, and she nods her agreement.
They cook together, hands on each other as much as on task, and eat with their legs touching under the table. He keeps their wine topped up, so by the time dinner is finished, they're glowing pleasantly, eyes locked and fingertips laced together across the table. They talk about work at first, then nothing in particular, and as they drift into comfortable silence, his fingertips start tracing circles on the inside of her wrists – it sends warmth spiking through her, from the tips of his fingers to low in her abdomen, and something inside her panics. She can't. Not him. She pulls her hand back. "I'll get the dishes," she says, a little too suddenly, and he frowns in confusion but nods and lets her go.
She fills the sink and starts cleaning, singing softly, like she used to when she only had a few minutes to gather herself, when she was somebody else. It has the opposite effect this time, though, sending her hurtling back to the last time she had butterflies in her stomach. She has gone out with guys since JTF-12, but she hasn't felt this for a long time. She is falling for him, hard and fast, and there's nothing she can do about it, and the deeper she gets the more dishonest she feels.
"I didn't know you could sing," Hotch says from the doorway.
She stops abruptly, feeling a blush rise in her cheeks. She wants to say there's a lot you don't know about me, playful and shy, but she can't right now because it's too painfully true and not nearly far enough back in her mind. So she just stands there, caught, elbow deep in the soapy water, until she feels him step behind her and his hands slide around her waist. "You okay?"
She nods, silent for too long, and leans back into him. Despite everything, it feels right. "I'm okay."
"You're preoccupied."
She nods again.
"Anything you want to talk about?"
Yes, she thinks. So much. Except she can't, partly because she couldn't bear it if it horrified him but mostly because she can't, she swore an oath… She shakes her head. "It's nothing in particular," she says, drying her hands and turning round, wrapping her arms around him and folding herself into him.
He holds her close, pressing a kiss behind her ear. "You can tell me," he says softly. "Whatever it is, whenever you're ready."
That's the end of the little 4-parter :) Timeline and tone all over the place from now on.