By the time they get a place together, she hasn't been back to her apartment for months. They've been talking about it for just as long. They take a week off, Morgan helps them decorate, Jessica takes Jack out while they do most of the unpacking, and by the time they get to their bedroom stuff they're most of the way through a bottle of wine.
He finishes first, sits back on the bed and watches her for a moment. "Can I help you?" he asks. "Or are these boxes of secrets?"
"You can help," she replies, sliding a box labelled 'sentimental' across the floor at him. "But your lips are sealed if Morgan ever asks about the contents of this box. We don't need another day like the one Garcia spent gloating about my yearbook picture."
Hotch stops dead, the box pulled up onto the bed beside him, one hand already inside it. "Garcia found your yearbook picture?"
She closes her eyes, thinking that sometimes you'd never know she was a successful undercover agent. "No," she says, and when she opens her eyes he's smiling, typing something on his phone. "Hey – no – what are you –? Hotch? Can we pretend I didn't just say that?"
Garcia replies in record time – Emily knows because he's suddenly roaring with laughter. She rolls her eyes, but can't help the grin on her face. She aims a swipe at him with a pillow, and he catches her by the wrist and pulls her onto his lap, kissing her cheek and holding her tight. "You looked ridiculous," he murmurs in her ear as she folds herself into his arms.
"Shut up."