The first night Hotch stays over, Sergio refuses to come into the bedroom, and she doesn't do much to try to coax him because a significant part of her isn't ready to admit to Aaron Hotchner that her cat normally sleeps in bed with her.
Later, she thinks this was probably a mistake.
"He hates me," Hotch says bleakly to Emily, who is lying down on her living room floor and stretching a coaxing hand under the coffee table. "Does he come out of there as soon as I leave?"
"Usually," she admits. Sergio stretches out on his back and she rubs his belly, feeling his purr vibrating through his body. She thinks probably he's enjoying her grovelling attention at least as much as the belly rub. "Come on," she murmurs. "Come out, handsome. I promise he's a nice guy. Kind. Funny. A little terrified of you. You'll like him."
"I am not terrified," Hotch replies, a smile in his voice, nudging her leg with his foot.
"A little," she insists, and he doesn't object. "And he should be," she tells Sergio, scratching under his chin. "Because you have big claws and sharp, white teeth, and you're my number one…" She throws a glance up to Hotch, smiling, reminding him that she is mostly joking, and he raises his eyebrows. Getting up, she says, "I'm going to pull out the big guns." She heads for the kitchen, starts rummaging around for Sergio's favourite luxury salmon treats. They come from an honest-to-god farmers' market. "Spoiled brat," she mutters, lovingly.
She shakes the bag a little on her way back to the living room – normally he'd be doing figure-eights around her feet by now, either showing his appreciation or hoping she'll trip over him and break her neck and he can have the whole bag at once. She stops short in the doorway. Hotch is lying on his side on the living room floor, his polo shirt riding up on one side, talking quietly. "… also I have a gun. In fact, I have two, and I train hostage negotiators. I can wait you out, Sergio Prentiss, but if you don't tell me what your demands are then I can't negotiate."
"He demands luxury salmon treats," Emily says, indicating the fancy paper bag in her hand, and Hotch sits up quickly, folds his hands in his lap to protect them from attack, smiling a little sheepishly at her. "Also undying love, a space on the bed, the kind of toy mice that have catnip inside and don't squeak, the fancy woodchip litter…"
"He poops in a box," Hotch says, holding out his hand for salmon treats, "and I'm negotiating with him."
Shaking a few into his hand, she watches Sergio's nose and whiskers creep from under the table into view. "I'm sure you've negotiated with worse."