Author's Note: This is the first of a few chapters (not all consecutively posted), relating to the team's observations of Emily and Hotch. Basically how they've been behaving at work since they moved in together/she got sick.

Early January: Wednesday

Observations: Big Mama & Chocolate Bear

Garcia bound into her office with a huge smile on her face.

This was the BEST day of her LIFE!

Okay . . . she dialed down the hyperbole slightly . . . maybe not the best day of her LIFE, but certainly in the top ten.

Maybe even in the top five.

And that was because today . . . she dropped into her chair and spun around . . . in a most unexpected moment of discovery, she'd gotten herself PROOF that Hotch and Em, two of her favorite little piglets, were FINALLY playing in the same pen! And that was a FANTASTIC inter-team relationship development! Really, they were just so CUTE together! For that reason alone . . . aesthetics . . . Garcia had been silently (because everybody else would have thought that she was NUTS) rooting for them to couple up since Hotch's divorce. And now it looked like she might actually be getting her wish.

Because she'd just caught the two them coming into work, wait for it . . . TOGETHER!

Actually . . . she corrected herself . . . this was the THIRD time that she'd caught them coming into work together, but the earlier elevator run-ins didn't really count. They weren't actually "doing" anything then. Not like today. Though . . . Garcia's brow wrinkled slightly as she thought back . . . the second time she might have seen the Boss Man rubbing Em's back.

But she wasn't positive about that one.

It wasn't that her sight was that bad . . . though her glasses had been a bit fogged from the cold . . . it was really just more that it didn't seem like a very Hotch thing to do.

Well . . . Garcia tipped her head as she considered the statement . . . maybe it was a very Hotch thing to do. After all she didn't actually know how the man behaved in his personal life.

And 'back rubbing' would most definitely be personal life behavior.

But all Garcia knew of him was work life. As in, how Hotch behaved when he was within the umpteenth number of walls of the FBI Academy. And within those walls, he'd always only ever been uberly professional, SSA Hotchner.

But all that changed today.

Because today . . . she started getting excited again . . . she'd definitely caught a glimpse of the off duty, personal life Hotch. And to her surprise, he was a HAND HOLDER! That just didn't seem like him at all, at least not the HIM that she knew. But nonetheless, that's what she'd seen, Hotch and Emily holding hands when the elevator doors had opened on her parking garage level.

It was, in a word, ADORABLE!

Of course . . . she huffed to herself . . . they'd immediately let go when they'd seen her. But whatever, she'd seen what she'd seen and all of their quick little super agent reflexes couldn't make her UNsee the two sets of fingers clearly intertwined in a not at all professional manner.

But of course wishing to be polite, and not wanting to ruin that moment of complete awesomeness . . . she'd been dying for a good piece of gossip for months(!) . . . as she stepped onboard the little car, Penelope had pretended not to take note of the digital entanglement.

Or the notable reddening of their respective cheeks.

In fact to set them at ease, she'd even gone the extra mile and tipped her head to greet them with a "good morning, sir" . . . sly head swivel . . . "good morning Emily," but that turned out to be totally a lost effort. It was clear that they were not in the mood to engage, so she only got back a couple of murmured, perfunctory, hellos. But she let that go. Really the hand holding was enough to totally make her day.

But then her day got even BETTER!

Because when she stepped forward to re-press the button for their floor . . . because that's what you're supposed to do, press an already lit button to pretend like you'll get there faster . . . out of the corner of her eye she saw Em making some really weird hand gestures.

Like really weird gestures.

Gestures that could not be ignored.

So to get a better look at what was going on literally behind her back, Penelope had feigned twisting around to check the line of her stockings. Of course that was just a ruse so she that could get a better look at what in goddess's name the two of them were doing back there.

And that's when she'd seen Hotch rubbing LIPSTICK off his cheek! And THAT was the moment that she'd finally had CONCRETE proof of, well . . . something. Were they dating? Just sleeping together?

Secretly married?!

Okay . . . Penelope's brow wrinkled as the myriad of relationship possibilities flashed through her mind . . . she didn't quite know what it was that they were doing. But she did know that it was big.

Lipstick on the cheek, big!

But now that she'd retreated back to her office, Penelope wasn't quite sure what to do next. Yes, she REALLY wanted to know exactly why the two of them were swapping lipstick down in the parking garage. But she also knew . . . or at least her pesky little conscience did anyway . . . that whatever Hotch and Emily were doing during their personal time, as in whatever the reason for that pigmental transfer, was perhaps not really any of her beeswax.

It was their beeswax.

And that meant that maybe . . . Pen's nose wrinkled distastefully as her good mood started to slip . . . she should just go back to work now and forget that she'd seen anything.

Crap.

That was a depressing thought . . . one that Garcia really didn't feel like fully embracing. So her brain began looking for loopholes.

And then . . . her eyes lit up . . . it found one.

Sorta.

The gossipy little voice in her head reminded her that Hotch was their leader . . . king if you will. And you might even say . . . if you were looking to stretch the truth a teensy tiny bit . . . that Emily was their matriarch. The queen. So, she got on a roll, Hotch and Emily were the king and queen of the unit!

And as such their royal interactions were TOTALLY Penelope's business!

Okay . . . Garcia rolled her eyes in disgust while simultaneously flinging a troll pen across the desk . . . that was weak. Very weak.

Used teabag, weak.

But really . . . she started floating back down to the rational plane of thinking . . . Hotch and Emily were family. Mom and sister respectively.

NOT king and queen.

(So lame Pen)

Anyway . . . she refocused . . . if she looked at it like that, it meant that by poking around in their off duty activities, she was really just taking an interest in familial developments. That's all.

Familial developments.

All right yes, she was still maybe being a smidge nosy but, well . . . she nodded to herself . . . she was okay with that. There were worse things to be in life than just a smidge nosy. And bottom line, she just wanted to know if they were together, because she just wanted to know if they were happy. Given how absolutely miserable their work could be, they deserved that.

They deserved to be happy.

So with that point finally settled with her annoying conscience . . . her nosiness had good intentions . . . Garcia rolled her chair over to grab the phone off the cradle.

Now that she was looking for evidence of 'level of attachment' of this new, suspected, personal relationship between two of the most private people that she knew, there was only one man for the job.

Derek Morgan.

So after she'd punched in his extension, Garcia leaned back in her chair listening to the phone ring.

. . . once . . . twice . . .

"Hey, Baby Girl."

She grinned.

"Breaker, breaker Chocolate Bear, this is Big Mama on the line. Come back."

Whenever possible, she tried to start Derek's day off with a laugh . . . her eyes crinkled as she heard him snort . . . because he didn't do nearly enough of that when he was working.

None of them did.

"Good morning, Big Mama," Derek chuckled while wiping off the coffee droplets he'd just snorted onto his shirt, "and can I do for you on this fine winter's day?"

With a greeting like that, he was sure that she was up to something.

"Oh Chocolate Bear," Penelope tapped her pen on the desk, "do I have an assignment for you!"

/*/*/*/

On Assignment for Big Mama

Derek looked up . . . with a sly sideways glance . . . to follow his boss as he made a detour over to Emily's unoccupied desk. Then he watched Hotch slow his pace to place a sandwich . . . it appeared to be turkey . . . and a bottle of diet ginger ale, on the empty desk blotter. And then, without a word to either Morgan or Reid, and still carrying his own lunch . . . Hotch continued up the steps to his office.

He looked to be in a hurry.

As the door slammed shut, Derek's brow rose up . . . hmmm, a healthy lunch delivery.

Interesting.

Of course Derek was already WELL aware of how close Hotch and Emily had become over the last six months. For one, Hotch had nearly beaten him senseless just for hurting Emily's feelings over that ridiculous late invite back in August, and for another he'd nearly beat him to death over his fuck up in Great Falls. Even with the latter showing an obvious 'intensity' in the nature of Hotch's attachment to Emily, Derek still wasn't quite sure just how involved the two of them were as of today.

Basically he didn't know whether or not they were doing it yet.

It was a point that Derek had been a bit curious about for a while now. Other people's sex lives, or lack thereof . . . talking about YOU Spencer . . . always interested him. But he hadn't actually thought to do anything about this particular bit of curiosity, until today. Not until Garcia had called and asked him to figure out exactly, quote, "how far things had progressed between Smurfette and Papa Smurf."

It was an analogy that slightly disturbed Derek . . . Smurfette & Papa Smurf getting it on sounded a bit incestuous if you asked him . . . until Garcia assured him that contrary to popular belief, there was no familial connection between the two Smurfs. Then she started going on about Gargamel and some spell and Derek had to hang up the phone.

God knew that he loved Baby Girl to DEATH, but sometimes seriously, the woman seemed to forget that he had a working penis. Regardless, by the time he'd hung up with a huff, he'd already been given his orders.

Orders that . . . for once . . . he'd actually been agreeable to following.

This was unlike last week when Garcia had called and asked him to go down to the Starbucks on the corner and yell at the barista for raising a "snotty eyebrow when I asked for double whip and three cherries."

Yeah, the girl had lost her damn mind on that one.

So even though last week's request had been a big old "negatory big Mama," this one, Derek actually thought was kind of fun. With them having been on the bench since before Christmas, things were pretty dead outside of writing and reviewing mounds of reports and intake forms. So a little 'covert office snooping,' would at least liven things up.

It was also a way to keep his surveillance skills sharp.

And he figured basic surveillance really was the way to go. Because although Derek had known for some time now that Hotch and Emily had fallen pretty hard for each other, he really knew no more about the true nature of their relationship than Garcia did.

Although he had to admit, Baby Girl's tales of suspected hand holding/lipstick pantomime did lend credence to the theory that they had finally gotten their shit together. Granted, Emily was affectionate with everyone that she cared about, so just because she and Hotch had been holding hands . . . the lipstick was inclusive to that because Garcia said the smear had been nowhere near the mouth . . . that didn't necessarily mean that they were now fully coupled up.

Maybe Em's touchy feely'ness was just rubbing off on Hotch?

Anyway, thinking about it logically, it did seem more likely that the whole Christmas/New Year's yuletide togetherness crap would have been the perfect time for Hotch . . . if he was so inclined, and why the hell wouldn't he be . . . to finally make a move there.

Of course as far as Derek Morgan was concerned, as in being a man who didn't believe in wasting ANY time when it came to the ladies, a Christmas/New Year's consummation still would have been a couple months too late. Because he'd figured out way back in November that Hotch and Emily's close friendship . . . a friendship which they had not made ANY effort to hide . . . had begun to morph into something more substantive.

Something more serious.

Still though, based on a few specific observations, Derek had been fairly positive that as of that point in time . . . again, November . . . that the two of them were not sleeping together. Or even, as far as he could see, genuinely romantically involved.

Some people might have said that was just guesswork on his part . . . that he didn't actually know what the hell Hotch and Em were doing behind closed doors . . . but really it was a fairly scientific deduction based on what he liked to call, 'Profiler's Instinct.'

Profiler's Instinct was an entity that had served him well over the years.

But lately Profiler's Instinct hadn't been offering Morgan diddlysquat, on those two. Even though they didn't outwardly seem to be interacting any differently, still . . . Derek's brow lifted slightly as he saw Em stepping through the glass doors . . . something was up.

He just didn't know what.

And even for all of the coffee and lunch breaks that the two of them had taken together over the last seven to eight months . . . hundreds . . . Derek was hard pressed to come up with a previous lunch delivery.

So that was new.

Hence his interest. And now Derek was curious to see how Emily, who had had told him an hour ago that she had to run to HR to discuss some "follow-up" from her accident a few weeks ago, was going to react to the free lunch now sitting on her desk.

So after a wave hello, he watched as Em tucked a manila envelope into her messenger bag . . . probably more stuff related to when she could come back to full time duty . . . before she began to pull out her chair. But then she stopped, looking down in confusion at the two items sitting on her desk that hadn't been sitting there when she left.

So Derek helpfully clued her in.

"Hotch came by a few minutes ago, he dropped them off."

"Oh," Emily responded softly as she glanced up at their boss' office with a little smile. And then she seemed to realize what she was doing.

Acting like a girl.

And her eyes snapped back to Derek's as she sobered and cleared her throat.

"Oh yeah," she nodded as she sat down, "that's right, he owed me lunch from last week."

Morgan tipped his head.

"Ah, well that was nice of him to pay up then."

Though Derek knew damn well there was more to it than that . . . no woman goes all googly eyed over a turkey sandwich that she's owed as basic lunch payback . . . he also figured that if he teased her about it, that she'd just clam up.

So to that end he continued to play the straight man . . . though speaking just a little louder than necessary to try and throw Emily off track. She had Profiler's Instinct too. And he didn't want her thinking for even a second that he had any special interest at all in the origins of that turkey sandwich!

"PERSONALLY," with a dramatic clearing of his throat, Derek projected his voice loudly across the desk, "I'm still waiting on Reid to give me back that twenty bucks he borrowed two WEEKS ago."

Subtle . . . no. Effective misdirection?

Oh YEAH!

"What was that Derek?" Spencer muttered back distractedly.

Although he was picking up on a faint tone in the inflection of Derek's words . . . one which was probably intended to make a point of some kind . . . Reid really wasn't paying him all that much attention.

Which was . . . a thought occurred to him . . . perhaps the reason for the tone.

Well, whatever . . . Reid dismissed the thought as quickly as it came . . . really he had bigger issues in play at the moment. He was THIS close to perfecting his new magic book trick of balancing four paperclips vertically on top of one another. He'd almost had it a couple minutes ago . . . he was up to three . . . but then Hotch had walked through the bullpen. And knowing that Hotch was not generally a "fan" of his magic tricks . . . he'd mentioned this on repeated occasions, twice after the fire alarms had gone off . . . Spencer had needed to hide everything before he got yelled at.

Again.

Granted, Hotch had been somewhat more tolerant of his magical diversions the last few months . . . well, he was more likely to turn a blind eye provided there was no smoke or bandages involved . . . but still, Spencer wasn't pushing his luck. The man had confiscated a half dozen of his best projects over the years.

One of these days he was hoping to get them back.

Noting Reid's complete obliviousness to the point being made, Derek rolled his eyes.

"Oh nothing man, don't you worry your pointy little head about it!"

"See," he raised his hands in disgust as he turned back to Emily, "nothing!"

Though Emily gave a slight chuckle at their antics . . . she usually did unless she was yelling at him to be nice to Spencer . . . Derek could see that she wasn't about to be drawn into a conversation. She seemed too distracted for that.

Distraction manifested in part by the twitching of her jaw and the nervous tapping of the fingers on her desk.

Hmmm . . . Derek's brow wrinkled slightly as he tried to read her mood . . . what's up with that?

But before he could think of another question, perhaps to ask her flat out if anything was bothering her . . . his little game was one thing, her ACTUAL personal happiness and his responsibilities in that regard when it came to being her friend, were something else entirely . . . he saw Emily's brow lift slightly as her gaze abruptly snapped back to her lunch.

Something had caught her eye.

And then . . . to Derek's surprise . . . she suddenly pulled out a small note that he hadn't previously noticed was tucked into the wrapping paper of her sandwich. How had he missed that? Well, no matter. The note wasn't for him . . . it was for Emily. So now it was time to see how she reacted to it.

So he watched, rather blatantly . . . she wasn't paying him much attention . . . as she opened it up and began to read. First she smiled . . . and then her eyes filled with tears.

A second later she shot another look up to Hotch's closed door.

This time her gaze lingered.

When she looked back down to the note, Derek saw her blink the tears away . . . thank God! He didn't know what the hell he would have done if she'd started CRYING! But then it became clear that whatever it was that she'd just read . . . more to the point, whatever it was that Hotch had written. . . had completely transformed her mood. Now he could see that there was a little sparkle in her eyes . . . a straightening of her posture.

And she was biting her lip.

And then . . . and this was the final kicker as far as Derek was concerned . . . she carefully REfolded the note and placed it into her bag before she even broke open her sandwich. That meant that she didn't want him, or Reid, picking up the piece of paper and reading it.

GOTCHA!

Oh yeah . . . Derek smirked with satisfaction as he finally turned his complete attention back to his own half eaten lunch . . . Big Mama's mission was totally accomplished.

'They were definitely doing it!'

A/N 2: There you go, they're figuring stuff out. And if you want to know why they were kissing and holding hands on the elevator, and what it was that Hotch scribbled in the note, you will find out in the next chapter. Because on original post (and I mention this so you'll all know how invaluable having an awesome beta can be) after she read the draft, Arcadya wrote back one comment, "I want to know the origins of the turkey sandwich!" And hence, a chapter was born, "The Origins of The Turkey Sandwich." :)